#give us a sequel I demand it

[wickjump]

im gonna start posting fanfic recs btw whenever i find good ones. both here and my (awfully barren) 18+ account. because there are so many good fics out there with so few hits and fewer kudos and sometimes no comments period and it SUCKS because i REALLY LIKE THEM A LOT.. and i hope that by linking them here and yelling at everyone to COMMENT DAMMIT they might actually do it

seriously though any comment means a lot. most people who read a fic don’t even give a kudos. even if the fic wasn’t top tier, if you didn’t dislike it, hand over some kudos!! and if you liked it, comment!!!! even if the comment is one singular heart emoji it will be appreciated. if the comment just says “great fic!” the author will be happy. your comment doesn’t have to be this long winded gushing or analysis.

so many authors quit writing or lose motivation because the comments are few and far in between or just sometimes nonexistent. trust me when i say authors don’t care about how long or cool or smart sounding your comment is i promise!!!

i hope that mmmaybe recommending fics and telling people to comment might help fics i really like get more support maybe. and i, points at you reading this, hope that you will listen!!!at least a little….at least sum kudos….

[megankoumori]

In defense of a "Wicked Stepmother":

Sarah's Stepmother in "Labyrinth", named Irene in tie-in media, only gets about a minute of screen time before Sarah rushes off to her room in a soaked snit. Fanfic writers usually turn her into an evil bitch and even the manga sequel, "Return to Labyrinth", has her cold and abusive to Toby, her biological child. But here's the thing...

I think Sarah's mother gets a bum rap.

Dressing nicely for an evening out and having mild conflict with a teenager does not a Lady Tremaine make. And as someone who actually lived with a narcissistic, manipulative, emotionally abusive stepfather, I can tell you that Irene doesn't even come close to wicked step parent territory.

Backstory first. It's never spoken of in the film, but clues in Sarah's room tell us that her real mother is a stage actress who abandoned her and her father for another actor. Sarah idolizes her mother and tries to emulate her with play acting. Sarah's father met and married Irene sometime after Linda ran off, and Sarah, who thinks her mom walks on water, resents the hell out of Irene for taking her place. A place that Linda abandoned for another man.

She couldn't help it. He looked like David Bowie.

Let's look at her first alledged transgression. She won't let Merlin into the house. Instead she orders him into the garage. Heartless, we assume because we all love dogs and only the most soulless of monsters don't. But slow down. She didn't leave him out in the rain. She put him in the garage. Furthermore, Merlin is an Old English Sheepdog. Is he a nice dog? Sure, but he's also a breed that's notorious for being high maintenance and hard to keep clean and right now he's soaking wet and filthy. Irene isn't being cruel, she's trying to keep him from ruining the carpet.

So now Sarah and Irene are in the house about to have their confrontation. "Sarah, you're an hour late..."

Sarah lost track of time. Sarah is the one who screwed up. Irene has every right to be frustrated. For all we know, she and Robert were supposed to see a movie or meet someone and Sarah's tardiness wrecks their plans. Note, please, that while she is frustrated, she's not even yelling. My mom would have screamed bloody murder and then held it over my head for weeks.

"Your father and I go out very rarely..."

"You go out every single weekend!"

There is no way to confirm who is right on this. I will say Sarah is the one prone to hysterics and exaggeration, so it's not looking good for her.

"And I ask you to babysit only if it won't interfere with your plans."

I ask. Irene asks. She doesn't demand, and she doesn't expect Sarah to give up her previous plans.

"Well how would you know what my plans are? You don't even ask me anymore!"

Sarah, you were LARPing in a park by yourself. Furthermore, with the storm you would have gone home anyway.

"Well I assume you would tell me if you had a date. I'd like it if you had a date. You should have dates at your age."

Irene doesn't want Sarah to be a Cinderella stuck at home every night. She wants her to go out and have a social life. This is literally the opposite of the bedtime story Sarah tells Toby later.

Also, "I'd assume you tell me..." Irene might not be wording it in the best way here, but she wants Sarah to communicate with her. She wants them to have a relationship.

Then Robert enters the scene. "Sarah, you're home. We were worried about you."

WE were worried. As in both he and Irene. You think that's the reason she was waiting on the porch? Because their sixteen year old daughter is an hour past when she said she'd be home and now it's raining and getting dark?

It's not like she'd ever talk to a stranger.

Sarah runs up the stairs in a snit, not even acknowledging her father and leaving Irene dismayed. "She treats me like a wicked stepmother in a fairy story no matter what I say." Her voice isn't angry, it's hurt. She's making an effort to reach Sarah, but nothings working. She can't break through the tantrums and the anger and the hero worship of Linda.

Sarah is a fantasy junkie. It's all over her room. Her books are all fairy tales. Her dog and her teddy bear are named after figures from Arthurian legend. But she's wrapped herself in a different kind of fantasy, a toxic one. One where Irene, well meaning and kind, is one of the evil stepmothers from her fairytale books, while Linda is good and virtuous like one of the dead moms at the beginning. Except Linda isn't dead. She's shtupping a costar.

Part of Sarah's coming of age and maturity is rejecting Jareth, the stand in for her mother's lover and therefore finally rejecting following her mother's selfish path. We see her finally let go of Linda by putting her picture and clippings in the drawer. Hopefully, the next morning, after she picks the confetti out of her hair, she'll finally be able to start over with Irene.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Three AI insights for hard-charging, future-oriented smartypantses

MERE HOURS REMAIN for the Kickstarter for the audiobook for The Bezzle, the sequel to Red Team Blues, narrated by @wilwheaton! You can pre-order the audiobook and ebook, DRM free, as well as the hardcover, signed or unsigned. There’s also bundles with Red Team Blues in ebook, audio or paperback.

Living in the age of AI hype makes demands on all of us to come up with smartypants prognostications about how AI is about to change everything forever, and wow, it's pretty amazing, huh?

AI pitchmen don't make it easy. They like to pile on the cognitive dissonance and demand that we all somehow resolve it. This is a thing cult leaders do, too – tell blatant and obvious lies to their followers. When a cult follower repeats the lie to others, they are demonstrating their loyalty, both to the leader and to themselves.

Over and over, the claims of AI pitchmen turn out to be blatant lies. This has been the case since at least the age of the Mechanical Turk, the 18th chess-playing automaton that was actually just a chess player crammed into the base of an elaborate puppet that was exhibited as an autonomous, intelligent robot.

The most prominent Mechanical Turk huckster is Elon Musk, who habitually, blatantly and repeatedly lies about AI. He's been promising "full self driving" Telsas in "one to two years" for more than a decade. Periodically, he'll "demonstrate" a car that's in full-self driving mode – which then turns out to be canned, recorded demo:

https://www.reuters.com/technology/tesla-video-promoting-self-driving-was-staged-engineer-testifies-2023-01-17/

Musk even trotted an autonomous, humanoid robot on-stage at an investor presentation, failing to mention that this mechanical marvel was just a person in a robot suit:

https://www.siliconrepublic.com/machines/elon-musk-tesla-robot-optimus-ai

Now, Musk has announced that his junk-science neural interface company, Neuralink, has made the leap to implanting neural interface chips in a human brain. As Joan Westenberg writes, the press have repeated this claim as presumptively true, despite its wild implausibility:

https://joanwestenberg.com/blog/elon-musk-lies

Neuralink, after all, is a company notorious for mutilating primates in pursuit of showy, meaningless demos:

https://www.wired.com/story/elon-musk-pcrm-neuralink-monkey-deaths/

I'm perfectly willing to believe that Musk would risk someone else's life to help him with this nonsense, because he doesn't see other people as real and deserving of compassion or empathy. But he's also profoundly lazy and is accustomed to a world that unquestioningly swallows his most outlandish pronouncements, so Occam's Razor dictates that the most likely explanation here is that he just made it up.

The odds that there's a human being beta-testing Musk's neural interface with the only brain they will ever have aren't zero. But I give it the same odds as the Raelians' claim to have cloned a human being:

https://edition.cnn.com/2003/ALLPOLITICS/01/03/cf.opinion.rael/

The human-in-a-robot-suit gambit is everywhere in AI hype. Cruise, GM's disgraced "robot taxi" company, had 1.5 remote operators for every one of the cars on the road. They used AI to replace a single, low-waged driver with 1.5 high-waged, specialized technicians. Truly, it was a marvel.

Globalization is key to maintaining the guy-in-a-robot-suit phenomenon. Globalization gives AI pitchmen access to millions of low-waged workers who can pretend to be software programs, allowing us to pretend to have transcended the capitalism's exploitation trap. This is also a very old pattern – just a couple decades after the Mechanical Turk toured Europe, Thomas Jefferson returned from the continent with the dumbwaiter. Jefferson refined and installed these marvels, announcing to his dinner guests that they allowed him to replace his "servants" (that is, his slaves). Dumbwaiters don't replace slaves, of course – they just keep them out of sight:

https://www.stuartmcmillen.com/blog/behind-the-dumbwaiter/

So much AI turns out to be low-waged people in a call center in the Global South pretending to be robots that Indian techies have a joke about it: "AI stands for 'absent Indian'":

https://pluralistic.net/2024/01/29/pay-no-attention/#to-the-little-man-behind-the-curtain

A reader wrote to me this week. They're a multi-decade veteran of Amazon who had a fascinating tale about the launch of Amazon Go, the "fully automated" Amazon retail outlets that let you wander around, pick up goods and walk out again, while AI-enabled cameras totted up the goods in your basket and charged your card for them.

According to this reader, the AI cameras didn't work any better than Tesla's full-self driving mode, and had to be backstopped by a minimum of three camera operators in an Indian call center, "so that there could be a quorum system for deciding on a customer's activity – three autopilots good, two autopilots bad."

Amazon got a ton of press from the launch of the Amazon Go stores. A lot of it was very favorable, of course: Mister Market is insatiably horny for firing human beings and replacing them with robots, so any announcement that you've got a human-replacing robot is a surefire way to make Line Go Up. But there was also plenty of critical press about this – pieces that took Amazon to task for replacing human beings with robots.

What was missing from the criticism? Articles that said that Amazon was probably lying about its robots, that it had replaced low-waged clerks in the USA with even-lower-waged camera-jockeys in India.

Which is a shame, because that criticism would have hit Amazon where it hurts, right there in the ole Line Go Up. Amazon's stock price boost off the back of the Amazon Go announcements represented the market's bet that Amazon would evert out of cyberspace and fill all of our physical retail corridors with monopolistic robot stores, moated with IP that prevented other retailers from similarly slashing their wage bills. That unbridgeable moat would guarantee Amazon generations of monopoly rents, which it would share with any shareholders who piled into the stock at that moment.

See the difference? Criticize Amazon for its devastatingly effective automation and you help Amazon sell stock to suckers, which makes Amazon executives richer. Criticize Amazon for lying about its automation, and you clobber the personal net worth of the executives who spun up this lie, because their portfolios are full of Amazon stock:

https://sts-news.medium.com/youre-doing-it-wrong-notes-on-criticism-and-technology-hype-18b08b4307e5

Amazon Go didn't go. The hundreds of Amazon Go stores we were promised never materialized. There's an embarrassing rump of 25 of these things still around, which will doubtless be quietly shuttered in the years to come. But Amazon Go wasn't a failure. It allowed its architects to pocket massive capital gains on the way to building generational wealth and establishing a new permanent aristocracy of habitual bullshitters dressed up as high-tech wizards.

"Wizard" is the right word for it. The high-tech sector pretends to be science fiction, but it's usually fantasy. For a generation, America's largest tech firms peddled the dream of imminently establishing colonies on distant worlds or even traveling to other solar systems, something that is still so far in our future that it might well never come to pass:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/01/09/astrobezzle/#send-robots-instead

During the Space Age, we got the same kind of performative bullshit. On The Well David Gans mentioned hearing a promo on SiriusXM for a radio show with "the first AI co-host." To this, Craig L Maudlin replied, "Reminds me of fins on automobiles."

Yup, that's exactly it. An AI radio co-host is to artificial intelligence as a Cadillac Eldorado Biaritz tail-fin is to interstellar rocketry.

Back the Kickstarter for the audiobook of The Bezzle here!

If you’d like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here’s a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/01/31/neural-interface-beta-tester/#tailfins

[cheyisagirlkisser]

could you do a part two to the pit fighter vi fic where vi has a spit kink…pretty please😼

Part two hip hip hooray!! this one probably isn’t as delicious as the first I apologize, I’m allergic to writing good sequels

Content: 800 words, Pit fighter Vi and fem! waitress reader, fingering (r! receiving), oral sex (r! receiving), spit play, quickie in the bathroom🐱, Vi calls you cupcake you can interpret that little bit of info however you want, getting stuffed like a turkey happy thanksgiving

After that insane night, you and Vi became regular fuck-buddies.

It wasn't always when she was drunk after fights. Sometimes, she would slide into the kitchen while you were on your break and pull you into the staff bathrooms for quickies. She called you her "good-luck charm." You found yourself growing more and more wanting of her attention, always quick to her table when she visits after fights and feel her hot touch over every inch of your skin. Even in your dreams, you could feel her hands over the fat of your ass, her saliva branded over your navel from the countless times her mouth trailed down it, the bruises all over your thighs from her bites, and even the scent of alcohol filling your nostrils, haunting you when she isn't around.

As you fucked more and more, it was clear that she had some insane kinks. She loved fucking several orgasms out of your poor pussy; she couldn't help it. You looked all used up and still somehow all shy after. It made her heart jump.

One thing Vi really, really liked about you was that you were so sensitive to everything she does, and she could really do anything she wanted to you. You would just take it, even if your knees were buckling and there were tears in your eyes from the intensity of her actions.

Vi has you on the bathroom sink with your legs spread wide open, her tongue deep inside your soaked hole. This was just the thing - Vi tells you to bark, you bark. She tells you to jump, you ask how high. You’re wrapped around the girl’s fingers quite literally. She gives you the best sex, and you can't complain.

She shoves two fingers deep into your pussy and watches as your legs quiver, “fuck you take everything I give you so easily.”

Vi is absolutely mesmerized. You look like an erotic painting even in such a vulgar context with your fingers grasping as her hair, pulling her up so you can kiss her. Your cheeks are rosy and your lidded eyes seem to squeeze shut every time her fingers curl inside you. Your hair is plastered in sweaty tendrils on your forehead, messy strays sticking up. Her lips meet yours in a searing kiss before she breaks away.

“Open wide.” The command is laced with sweetness, but you’re too dumbed down by how warm her touch is that you only offer up a moan in return.

Vi sighs, grabbing your lips and parting them. “C’mon, stick your tongue out.”

“P-Please, Vi, I just need you to-"

“Stick your fucking tongue out or I will stop right here and now, cupcake.”

Your tongue quickly peeks out of your mouth, and Vi doesn’t hesitate to deliver a glob of her spit onto it.

“Swallow.” As she demands, she adds another finger, stretching you full of her digits.

You can’t process all of it; the sensation of her fingers drilling deep inside you, the taste of her saliva fills your taste buds, and all you can do is quickly swallow what she’s offered you with a grateful little whine.

Vi’s lips are back on yours, her tongue parting them to feel yours. You kiss her like she’s gonna disappear, tasting her once more and you can’t hold on much longer.

Her mouth doesn’t waste time returning to your clit, suckling on the soft bud and only bringing you tumbling to the orgasm you have been desperate for. Your juices coat her fingers up to her knuckles and she is now taking everything you have to offer her. Every wave of your orgasm is like a new firework being lit and launched up into the air, crackling and fading before the next hits you.

When it finally ends, Vi is breathlessly leaning into your body, as flushed as you are. Your ass is practically in the sink now and the whole restaurant definitely heard you two, but all you can think about is how soft you are for this black-haired woman to the point that if she spits into your open mouth, you accept is so graciously and if she fills every crevice of your cunt, all you will do is plead and beg for her to own you.

Even in her brash behavior, she still cares about you. Vi plants a soft kiss on your neck, not a bite or a sloppy smooch, but just a kiss. She then moves back to your lips and covers them with hers from the corner of your mouth to your bottom lip, her lips swollen and hot but so affectionate and somehow sweet, despite the relationship the two of you have.

You completely forgot about the burgers you were supposed to bring to table three like, 15 minutes ago.

[have-you-seen-my-sanity]

Moon boys after NNN

Moon Knight system x fem!reader

Summary: The boys barely survived the NNN challenge and december has arrived.

Can be seen as a sequel to -> [X]

CW/triggers: NSFW, smut, fingering, oral (m! + f! receiving), spanking, cum eating, p in v, brat taming(?), thanksgiving mentioned. Let me know if I missed some!

A/n: I'll be sent straight to prison for this. Life sentence into an asylum wearing a straitjacket aswell.

December finally arrived, November is no more, meaning you can get comfortable while it's snowing outside, christmas feeling everywhere, get some hot chocolate to enjoy and...

The boys.

Last month was a bit entertaining. For you atleast. But the boys? Not so much. Not at all.

Jake was the only one who was acting normal, whistling and acting all professional.

Steven had some days where he acted like being seconds away from snapping, even biting his fingernails to suppress his needs.

Marc wasn't afraid of staring you down like you were his next prey he's going to chase down and enjoy for himself. Seeing him act like that made you afraid of even saying one word or make a remark about his behavior, fearing he might just pounce on you.

You haven't talked to the boys yet, it was only 4 AM and you didn't want to disrupt their sleep if they even were sleeping and not plotting their revenge on you.

It was only seconds after you came back from a raid on the fridge that you heard a knock on your door.

"Mi amor?"

You froze. It was Jake.

"Don't try to hide, you're not sleeping, we heard you in the kitchen." Jake chuckled, before he slowly opened the door, poking his head inside. "Oh hey, there you are." he grinned.

*Who's gettin' her first, guys?*

*Jake.*

"Jake? Why are you awake? It's 4 AM."

Jake closed the door behind him and slowly walked towards you. "Well," he shrugged "thought we will start the day early, eh? Maybe a nice wake up call?"

He sat down at the edge of your bed while you eyed him with tiredness and confusion.

"Alright hermosa, why don't you bend over my knees?" he patted them invitingly, grinning like the cheshire cat.

You swallowed, obediently getting up to bend over his knees. You knew you're in trouble now.

"So," he started, running his hand over your butt, giving each cheek a squeeze. "you had one month of just having yourself." he spanked you lightly. "But you know what?" he leaned down. "Steven, Marc and I are so pent up rightnow." he said, giving another spank, harder this time.

"You could have said something!" you gasped.

Jakes hand slipped underneath your clothes, squeezing your thigh. "Oh you didn't notice us? How the other two were acting?"

"I'm sorry!"

Jake chuckled, his hand found it's way to your hole, finding it already wet. "Look at that, you're wet! Couldn't wait either, hm?" he teased, his fingers probing into you and pushing two inside.

"F-where are the other two?" you half moaned, half gasped.

Jake thrusted his fingers in and out of you. "Don't worry, they will get their share too." he undressed your lower half, spreading your legs for better access while finger fucking you. His other hand moved to stroke his hardening cock through his pants, this time Jake isn't being as patient now that he's got you.

He pulled his semi-hard cock out, stroking himself a few times before looking down at you. "Why don't you go ahead and give me a head start?" he asked gently, but there was a demand in his tone that couldn't been overheard.

Leaning in, you licked the underside of his shaft, moving upwards while Jake finger fucked you faster, he was already starting to leak, you licked the tip, gathering the precum on your tongue before heading in, taking his throbbing cock into your mouth and swirling your tongue around it.

It caused Jake's leg to twitch at the sudden warmth of your mouth and your tongue magic.

"Fuck," he threw his head back, his hand cradling your head "you have no idea how good that feels after so long."

Your moans around him made him shudder at the pleasure. His thumb moved to rub your clit, making you almost drool all over his cock before his fingers dipped back into your needy pussy, curling them just right to make you arch your back.

Jake pushed your head down further on his cock, urging you to take more of him. He felt his control slipping, his hips rocked gently as he held you captive on his cock with his fingers stuffing your needy pussy.

Your eyes rolled back when Jake curled his fingers and hit a sweet spot. His breathing was getting heavier, the thrusts of his fingers harder and his cock throbbed inside your mouth.

"Shit, sweetheart, I'm getting close." Jake groaned, guiding your head faster. Jake pulled his fingers out of you, rubbing your clit in fast circles and pressing down, only to dive his fingers back into your cunt, making you moan uncontrollably around his cock, your teeth grazing his shaft which made him almost cum but he held himself back.

"Fuck, -ah- keep going sweetie." He grunted.

You felt his fingers curl inside you again, making you see stars when finally you coated his fingers in your juices. Jake didn't hesistate, using his free hand to join his other on your head, making you gag multiple times as Jake just used you like a doll.

Finally, when he came down your throat, he came hard, holding you in place while you obediently swallowed his load and catching his breath.

"You're okay down there, princesa?" Jake asked, gently pulling you off of his softening cock and cradling your face. "Phew, I'm afraid I enjoyed that way too much." he chuckled softly, moving in to kiss your forehead.

"I'll leave you be now, okay?" Jake cooed, but he knew you're far from done.

He stood up, leaving you sitting on the bed. Jake stopped with his hand on the door handle, turning around to face you. But it wasn't Jake anymore.

"Hi there, honey. Missed me?"

Your ears perched up. "Marc?"

"Mhm."

You bit your lip. "You're going to-?"

He made his way over, smirking. "What? Thought after Jake you'd be done? No-ooou, not gonna happen." he flipped you over, making you bend over the bed and pushed you up on your knees.

Marc's eyes roamed over your body, landing on your pussy seeing the wetness from Jake's handiwork still there.

His hands roamed your back, waist and hips before landing on your butt, squeezing firmly. "Fuck you had really no idea what you made us go through?" he asked, sounding as if he genuinely wanted to know.

"You could have stopped anytime, you know?"

"Yeah but you challenged us. And we don't shy away from a good challenge when we know what's our reward going to be."

You couldn't help but chuckle. "Geez."

"Baby it's going to be like thanksgiving for you. But you're the turkey getting stuffed." He slapped your cheek, marking it up with a faint handprint.

"Who's doing the stuffing?" you teased.

Marc's eyebrows shot up, he leaned down until his lips brushed your ear. "Oh honey. You're about to get stuffed up so good and in the end get devoured."

He ground himself against your ass, you could feel his soft cock hardening once more. The way his clothed shaft rubbed against you just right made you go all fuzzy.

"Fuck, sweetheart, sorry but I can't fucking wait." Marc rasped, quickly pulling his pants down, stroking himself until he was fully hard again and pressed the tip against your still wet pussy. He pushed inside in one swift thrust until he was fully sheathed.

You gasped at his thickness entering you so suddenly.

"F-f-fuck, I missed this so much." his eyes rolled back into his skull at finally feeling you again after so long.

His hand moved to your spine, encouraging you to arch your back for better access. He set a steady pace, increasing it step by step.

Marc couldn't keep his control up for long though, your insides felt like heaven to him, he don't want to cum, he wants to keep pounding into you until you're a broken mess.

But his thrusting increased heavily, the grip on your hips thightened with almost every thrust before he released them to slow his thrusts, grinding his hips slowly against you to regain his control.

"Mmh, fuck you just feel so fucking good." He bit his lip hard enough to almost make it bleed while looking down at you.

Your pussy at this point was so slippy, Marc nearly thought he'd broke your insides somehow. But he loved the feeling.

"Listen if you wanna cum, you better do it now before I choose to fuck this pussy into oblivion." he threatened, squeezing your ass cheeks firmly while he was hammering into you, desperate for his release.

Your poor pussy couldn't take any more of this, your orgasm hit you so hard you were on the verge of passing out.

"Oh god- oh fuck!" Marc groaned deeply, his cock throbbing inside you before he released his cum into you.

Panting, Marc pulled out, running a hand through his hair and face and sitting down next to you on the bed.

You looked like a fucked out mess and Steven didn't even had his round with you.

"Okay I need a drink. Need one too?" He breathed out.

You huffed, your mind was as blank as it could possible be. "Later." you smiled.

Marc nodded, getting up to leave your room to get a drink while you were still in the same position - ass pushed up on your knees, overstimulated with Marc's cum leaking out of you and nearly falling asleep.

After Marc had his ice cold refreshment, he made his way back to your room, expecting you to be out cold.

But you're not out cold yet, only about to when he entered again, padding softly over to you and running his warm hand soothingly over your back.

"Marc?"

"Hiya, love." Steven introduced himself lovingly despite his inner need to to devour you.

Steven gently turned you around on your back, seeing your messy face and getting a good view of your fucked out pussy. Beautiful.

"Gonna clean you up now, yeah?" he simply said, kneeling down between your legs.

Before you could question him, he dived his head in and latched his greedy mouth onto your pussy, not caring about slurping up Marc's load aswell.

"God, I couldn't wait to get my mouth back to your cunt, love." he moaned around you, the vibrations making you lose it despite already having had two orgasms.

Steven's tongue dipped into you all the way, already raising up your pleasure once more. Your hands found their way to his head, your fingers ran through his curls while Steven ate you up like he was seconds away from starving.

That's what Marc meant by getting devoured like you were some turkey getting served on thanksgiving. Marc and Jake only did the stuffing, now Steven is going to devour their meal.

Steven felt himself getting hard, his hand slipped inside his pants to jerk off while devouring you.

Normally Steven was able to eat you out without jerking off, but now, after that stupid challenge it was impossible for him not to.

He loved loved the way you tugged on his hair everytime he hit a spot with his tongue, loving how desperate you were for another orgasm.

While Steven continued his tongue swirling on you, you felt the familiar knot build up, your moans getting needy, letting Steven know you're close.

But he was close too by the time you were, his hand had squeezed around his girth to mimic your pussy before he suddenly stood up, looking down at you with his mouth glistening in your juices and his curls a mess.

"You taste heavenly, love. So, so delicious. But I need t' feel you 'round me."

His cock was already free, leaking precum as he positioned himself between your legs.

Needy Steven speared your pussy on his cock right away, desperate to feel your tightness around him.

"Oh god, fuck- almost forgot how your cunt's feelin'!" he grunted, his hips slamming into yours, getting lost in the feeling.

Your hips bucked into him, chasing your imminent orgasm once more, Steven's fingers digged into your flesh, his cock was ready to explode inside you.

Both of you shared a mutual orgasm, your pussy clamped down just as he released his load into you.

After Steven pulled out, he collapsed down on the bed beside you. Both of you panting from the intense experience.

"Holy shit," Steven panted. "love, now if you know what's good f' you, you better not make us accept some stupid no sex challenge."

You laughed.

"Oi, 'm serious. You were extremely lucky Marc and I didn't lash out on you."

"Yeah I know." you smacked his shoulder playfully.

"We're definitely not made for those challenges."

You giggled. "Mhm, all three of you belong into horny jail."

Steven glared at you, a dirty smirk on his face.

[plottwiststudios]

Women of Xal II Kickstarter Imminent

KICKSTARTER PRE-LAUNCH PAGE ~ LINK

(PLEASE hit that black "Notify" button in the link. Reasons why further below. Content Warning: Earnest and frank honesty.)

It feels like Déjà vu to announce that we're going to launch Women of Xal's Kickstarter soon. Complete with new art of the characters. It was 2016 and a flood of you all came in gushing with love and support. Now we're all older and a bit more rugged, eh? But you've grown and become something far more beautiful than before. So have I, ideally! But let's get down to business. For everyone who reads this whole thing, or even just reblogs and officially follows the Kickstarter page, thank you.

So as most of you heard, we were going to shelf Women of Xal II. The debt accrued, the unprofitable returns, and risks Women of Xal II presented in both costing more and making even less made it unviable an avenue to explore. We were going to revisit the series years later. I was just starting to make my peace with that. But of course, I live in a bizarre fictional story like the rest of you. An artist came in shortly after. Ssam_reptile understood the situation and was hellbent on helping specifically us all the same. Long negotiations short, he's the reason Women of Xal II is happening at all.

He'll be doing much of the art for the promotions, CGs, special illustrations, Kickstarter art, and so~ much~ more~ But uh, look at this:

He perfectly embodied the kind of evolution I want for the sequel. Putting so much attention and care into the lore's little details and honoring Cat's character designs with utmost pride and attention. But I'm a relatively honest man: I gave him the numbers. The sales, the probability of success if we don't get a fire lit under this series, and the amount of time he's risking for this Kickstarter. He's also a sensible man, and was quite honest in his fears and reservations -- just as I was even restarting this project. But he is willing to take the risk, and believe in this project. And as scared as I remain for a Kickstarter that needs at least $25,000 to not fall into the same pitfalls as the original game, I'll also give it my all. Because I do believe that the story and quality that we can give you far outstrips these worries.

Staying upfront with you, I'm asking to indulge in a little bit of my selfishness here: Please follow the game's Kickstarter page. It'll notify you when the campaign officially launches. Show the team that we can look forward not to trepidation, but excitement when we launch that Kickstarter. Let the numbers help give us confidence that what we're doing will be seen. Reblog the excitement and show that we're just going to keep clapping back louder until we're heard. Talk to us on Discord or in my DMs and express your joys as well as anxieties about the sequel -- we want to hear everything and address you just as earnest as I always.

Tell us features you want, stories you want explored, Kickstarter rewards, anything. See what I've learned and what I haven't! You can even demand that Cat remains an artist in the game -- and you'll be happy to know that she is! She's returning as character designer, I'm still the offbeat writer, and we've got a lot more to say and show. So let's go on this journey once more, yeah? I can't wait to show you all what I've learned as both a person and a creative. Thank you for reading, and...

Welcome back to Xal.

[thewritingrowlet]

The Vacation Trip, ft. tripleS Xinyu, Nakyoung

tags: creampie, anal, anal creampie, daddy kink, rough

length: almost 8k

author's note: I'm a Seoyeon bias, bro, how did I end up writing so much of others? Anyway, this is the continuation of The Outing Trip. I decided to write a "sequel" that takes place after the events of The Outing Trip because I'm not ready to end it just yet.

p.s. I will be writing the follow-up to The Loving Wife soon; please look forward to it.

“Baby, we need to sleep soon; we’re leaving early in the morning”, you say to Xinyu, who presses you against the wall as soon as you enter the apartment. “I trust you to wake us up”, Xinyu says before pressing her lips on yours. Xinyu sleeps very well after having sex but struggles to wake up in the morning after, so the fact that she wants to have sex tonight is concerning; you need to pick up Nakyoung before 6 am tomorrow morning and head to the bus station after. “Huh? Kim Nakyoung?”, the voice in your head asks. Yes, Nakyoung, your official side girl who’s been an extra by your side ever since you got back from the outing trip―Xinyu approves of this, just so we’re clear.

“Oppa, you’re not cooperating”, Xinyu complains, “give me your tongue”. You comply to Xinyu’s demand and stick your tongue in her mouth. Xinyu fights your tongue with hers, occasionally letting you win. You shake off other thoughts and decide to play along. You clamp your lips on her tongue and squeeze, surprising Xinyu, who lets out a moan as a response. Xinyu finally breaks the tangle to catch her breath. “Oppa, what the fuck was that?”, Xinyu breathes heavily, “that was so fucking hot”.

You carry her in your arms and take her to the bedroom. “If you can’t wake up on time tomorrow morning, I’m locking you in the apartment”, you threaten her. Xinyu scoffs, “oh, please, you don’t know who I am and what I’m capable of”. Well, you know who Xinyu is and what she’s capable of, which is sleeping in and then waking up at the last minute—you’ll be making her pack a backpack after this so that neither of you will have to worry about it tomorrow should she wake up late. “Sure, baby, whatever you say”, you lift your T-shirt over your head, “are we doing this, or no?”.

Xinyu tells you to get naked entirely before she takes off her clothes. “Oppa, look at me, please”, Xinyu steps away from you while making sure you’re looking at her body. As soon as she unbuttons her shirt, you see the white lace bra she has on, and your hand automatically moves towards your erect cock. Xinyu giggles at you, “you haven’t even seen the whole thing yet, oppa”. “You need to be quick, baby; I can’t fucking wait any more”, you say, your hand busy stroking your cock. You can tell that Xinyu also can’t wait to start the action, but her slender fingers struggle to unbutton her jeans. “Fuck, this is embarrassing”, Xinyu pouts, “oppa, help”. You chuckle as you move to help her, “next time just don’t bother buttoning your pants, hm?”.

Now that Xinyu’s free of her restraining jeans, you can see the matching panties that have a wet spot on them. “Aww, you’re wet”, you touch her over the panties, “on a scale of one to ten, how horny are you, babe?”. Xinyu throws her head back, enjoying the warmup, “a-ah—fi-fifteen”. You pull Xinyu into your lap, your cock hovering above her stomach. You’re aware of how long you are, but the image of touching her cervix with the tip of your cock still gets you every time. “If one day we decide to have kids, oppa, you’ll have no trouble getting me pregnant”, Xinyu says, “now fuck me, please”.

You move Xinyu to the middle of the bed and put her legs on your shoulders—one issue, though: her knees and thighs are closed. “Is something wrong, cutie?”, you ask. Xinyu lifts her butt off the bed and spreads her legs, “you see that, oppa?”. You look down and see a shiny round thing between her cheeks, “is that a plug? Where did you get that?”. “I borrowed it from Nakyoung-ie”, Xinyu says, “I’ve been training my ass so that I can give you my cherry since you weren’t my first”. You’ve never asked Xinyu to train her ass, and you’ve told her that you don’t mind not being her first, so you’re not sure why she has decided to do all this. “Where did this come from, hon? Who talked you into this?”, you interrogate her. Xinyu holds your hands, “Nakyoung-ie looked like she was on cloud nine when you fucked her ass, so I’m curious. Would you fuck me in the ass as well, oppa? You’ll be the first and last person to do so”. You take a deep breath, “sure, if you really want to—but remember this: if I see that you’re in pain, I’m pulling out”.

Xinyu agrees to your terms and shows you her wet entrance, “first things first, oppa”. You guide your cock into her pussy, and Xinyu instantly lets out a soft, whiny moan. “Ah, daddy”, she says softly, “always so good, daddy—fuck”. Making Xinyu scream when in bed is nice and all, but having Xinyu speak and moan softly during sex makes you feel full of love. “Baby, fuck”, you let out a low moan, “I love you so much”. Xinyu pulls you towards her, “I love you too, oppa. You’re always so kind to me”. You chuckle slightly, “I can say the same about you, baby”. Xinyu smiles and pulls you into a kiss, breaking it every odd second to let out moans.

You start moving your hips faster, and Xinyu guides your head towards her neck. “Mark me, oppa; I want to show off to Nakyoung-ie tomorrow”, she says, tilting her head slightly to show you the desired area. You wordlessly grant her request, latching your lips on Xinyu’s neck and start planting hickeys. You notice that Xinyu is starting to breathe faster, and you’d like to think that what you’re doing is satisfactory. “Oppa, I love you so much”, Xinyu says, her chest rising and coming back down repeatedly, “mark me, oppa; make people know that I belong to you”. You’re trying your best to multitask, as you can’t let the tempo of your pumps go down while you’re busy marking Xinyu.

It is when Xinyu announces that she’s close that you stop being a neck painter and straighten your posture. “Let’s cum together, baby”, you say to her. You fold Xinyu in half, pressing her legs against her torso, and turn up the pace. You see her lewd aroused face in between her knees: her mouth is wide open, and her tongue is sticking out, as if trying to lick something. You bring a thumb towards her tongue, and Xinyu starts licking it as if it was your cock.

“Fuck, I’m about to bust”, you murmur. Xinyu retreats from your mouth and lets out a scream. Unlike the resort, your bedroom is soundproofed quite well, so Xinyu can scream until her voice disappears if she wants to. The two of you reach your peak at the same time; you send your load deep into Xinyu, while her entire body shakes violently. “You’re always so good, love”, you praise her as you straighten her legs, “I love you so much”. Xinyu doesn’t say anything back as she’s still busy squirming around, basking in her high. “I-I love you too, oppa”, Xinyu weakly rolls onto her stomach, “I’m out of energy, fuck—let’s save the ass-taking for next time, oppa”.

-

You wake up before your alarm has the chance to ring. When you look to your left, you see that Xinyu is still sleeping rather peacefully. “Love you, babe”, you whisper to her before pecking her exposed forehead. After collecting your consciousness and strength, you get off the bed and walk out of the bedroom.

You can tell by the phone light that someone is lying on the sofa. Whoever is lying on the sofa hears you, “oh, you’re awake—good morning, oppa”. You let out a sigh of relief, “oh, it’s you. What are you doing here this early, Nakyoung-ah?”. Nakyoung walks up to you and pecks you on the lips, “just wanted to make sure you don’t leave without me”. You return the favor and peck her on the lips, “can I entertain you with something?”. Nakyoung points at your morning wood, “can I help you with that, oppa?”. Since Nakyoung is your official side chick, you don’t feel like you’re betraying Xinyu the same way you did with Dahyun. “Yeah, sure”, you take Nakyoung’s hand and walk towards the sofa with her.

Before sitting down, you pull your shorts and boxers down to give Nakyoung access to your erect cock. Nakyoung ties her hair in a bun, thus indirectly showing off her perky tits to you, before getting on her knees. “Thanks for the meal”, Nakyoung licks her lips before taking you in her mouth. “Don’t go too hard; this is still very early”, you say to her. Since her mouth is full, Nakyoung can only hum in response.

Nakyoung starts going down on your shaft, taking her time to make sure she doesn’t choke on it. You stroke the side of her head gently, “you’re such a good girl, sweetie”. Nakyoung has expressed her desire to be called by pet names, but she tends to get overexcited when she hears it. “There’s no need to rush, sweetie; we have time”, you remind her, just in time to stifle her excitement.

“Oppa, cum soon, please. I’m getting tired”, Nakyoung says, snapping you out of your blissful reverie. “I’m pretty close, sweetie”, as soon as you say that, you hear the bedroom door swing open; Xinyu has managed to wake up without help. “Good morning, baby”, you greet the partially awake zombie. Xinyu slowly walks towards the sofa and rests her head on your thigh, not bothering with questioning anything. So here you are: your girlfriend is sleeping on your thigh and her best friend is kneeling in front of you with your cock in her mouth.

In order to get out of this, uh, predicament, you first ask Nakyoung to stop sucking you. You then move Xinyu so that she lies flat on the sofa—earning a grunt of annoyance from her—and puts your shorts and boxers back on. Lastly, you return Xinyu to her previous position and have her put her head on your thigh. Since the sofa doesn’t allow for two people to lie on it at the same time, Nakyoung resorts to resting her head against your other leg. “Girls, we have to leave soon”, you hate to break it to them, but it’s true; the bus will leave at 6:45 and you must be there before 6:15 tops. “Tell that to your sleepy girlfriend. I’m already wide awake”, Nakyoung defends herself.

You guess that Xinyu needs help getting ready, so you get up from the sofa and carry her to the bathroom for a shower. You make her sit on the toilet and kneel in front of her. “Babe, wake up, please”, you say in a calm tone. To your surprise, Xinyu opens her eyes right away; “I am fully awake, oppa. I just wanted to make sure you’d take care of me”. Xinyu straightens her posture and asks you to help her undress. You unbutton her pajama from the top, “oh, I almost forgot—I love you, baby”. While Xinyu is looking away to hide her blush, you continue unbuttoning her top until you can free her from it. “Fuck, you’re so hot, babe”, you comment, “shame that we don’t have that much time; we could’ve had some fun”. “My heart will explode if you keep saying these sweet things, oppa”, Xinyu pulls down her pants, thus getting fully naked and ready for shower.

You join her in the shower after getting naked, and that is when Xinyu starts teasing you. She keeps touching your cock every now and then and pretends to apologize for “accidentally” touching you. “Babe, I was serious when I said that we don’t have much time. I promise I will entertain all your antics once we get to the resort”, you remind her. Xinyu leans forward and nibbles the side of your neck, “I can tell you’re horny, oppa”. Well, there’s nowhere to hide now, “yeah, I am pretty damn horny right now—I mean, shit, look at you; you’re so hot”.

-

“Remind me where we’re going?”, Nakyoung asks as the three of you walk to find your bus. “The resort where we had our outing trip at”, you see the bus a few meters in front of you, “that’s ours, let’s go”. You approach the bus crew and show him the QR code on your phone. “I know this name”, he says, looking back and forth between you and your name, “you’re from that university, aren’t you?”. You show him a chill face, “that’s true, mister. Now we’re going back there for vacation”. He turns his attention and glances at Xinyu and Nakyoung, “well, it looks like you’re going to have a lot of fun”. “Well, that’s the plan—thanks!”, you say.

You get on the bus after the guy scans your QR code. You tell the girls to sit next to each other and “sacrifice” yourself to sit behind them—most likely with a stranger—since it’ll be safer this way, and obviously they agree. Not long after sitting down, you see more and more people start filling the empty seats behind you. Even after the bus driver has gotten in his seat and started the engine, the seat next to you remains empty. “I guess no one is traveling alone”, you think to yourself. As soon as the bus starts rolling, Xinyu hands you a picture of you and her, “so you don’t forget about me”. You want to laugh but a part of you thinks that this gesture has a deeper meaning, so you simply take the picture and thank her.

-

The bus has gotten on the ferry, which means passengers can get off, just like last time. When you check on the girls, you see that Nakyoung is sleeping and leaning against the window, while Xinyu is listening to music on her headphones. When Xinyu sees you, you gesture to her to follow you off the bus.

You walk with her to the top deck to stretch your legs and get some air. “I have a feeling you want to talk about something”, Xinyu says. “That is true”, you say, so Xinyu moves to lean on the railings next to you. “This love triangle happened with your consent, but I want to ask how you’re feeling about us right now”, you start. Xinyu gazes at the blue sea in front of her as she forms her answer. “Honestly, I feel like you’re starting to forget me, oppa”, Xinyu answers, “this morning wasn’t the first time Nakyoung-ie touched you before me, was it? I guess the whole point is that I’m starting to get jealous”. You subconsciously rub your cheek, as if feeling the pain from Xinyu’s slap from that time. “I’m sorry, love; it was never my intention to put Nakyoung-ie before you” are all you can come up with. “I know”, Xinyu sighs deeply, “just… don’t forget about me, please, oppa”.

“Oh, there you are”, you hear Nakyoung’s voice behind you. You turn around with Xinyu and wrap an arm around her before turning your attention to Nakyoung, “did you sleep well?”. Nakyoung stops a few steps in front of you, “are you two okay?”. You peck Xinyu’s temple quickly, “we had something to talk about, and I think we’re now okay”. Xinyu wasn’t satisfied with a quick peck, so she moves in front of you and comes in for a kiss, subtly reminding Nakyoung that you’re hers. “I love you so fucking much, oppa—you have no idea”, Xinyu says to you, serving as a reminder of her feelings for you. You put a palm on the side of Xinyu’s neck, “I’m marking you tonight, babe”.

Xinyu rolls her eyes when she hears Nakyoung clear her throat behind her. “I won’t forget about you, Naky-yah”, Xinyu turns around and shows Nakyoung a smiling face—a simple front that Nakyoung should be able to see through. Deep inside, you’re worried; what if you’re the cause of a ruined friendship? That would be disastrous, wouldn’t it? Wait, it was Xinyu’s idea to share you with her best friend, wasn’t it? You have all these questions but nothing but time can answer them for you.

-

“Welcome to—wait, I know you”, the same reception desk staff recognizes the three of you, “thank you for coming back, guys”. “It’s nice to be back, miss”, you shake her hand over the desk. You proceed to show her the booking info on your phone, and after cross-checking it with her computer, the staff hands you two keycards—you booked two rooms to “hide” the fact that you’ll be sleeping with two girls. “Keep it down when you do it, okay?”, the staff winks at you, and you feel your cheeks start getting red from embarrassment. “Th-thank you”, you timidly grab the keycards from her before walking away with Xinyu and Nakyoung.

“So, what will we do after this?”, Xinyu asks as she walks next to you towards your room. “109, 111—oh, here, 115 and 117!”, you ignore Xinyu momentarily as you read the room numbers, “one second, sweetie”. You hand Nakyoung the extra keycard and tell her to go in her room while you try and get in yours. After hearing the door unlock, you pull Xinyu by her wrist and enter with her. You close the door behind you—you make sure Nakyoung can’t disturb you for now—and lean against it. “Babe”, you turn her face towards you, “I love you so fucking much”. Xinyu giggles as her cheeks start turning red, “that was so random, oppa”.

You lift Xinyu by her thighs and carry her towards the bed for some intimacy. “Fuck, I wish I knew other ways to express love other than sex—I’m sorry for being such a boring person, baby”, you admit your cluelessness. Xinyu puts her hands on either side of your face—her hands feel particularly soft today. “I mean, I’m horny for you 24/7, oppa”, Xinyu giggles cutely. You were about to start undressing when you heard your stomach rumble. “Let’s get something to eat, babe; we can’t have sex on an empty stomach”, you say to Xinyu while pulling her onto her feet. Instead of walking towards the door, however, Xinyu opts to hug you tightly. “Oppa, I love you soooo, soooo much. Please don’t forget that”, she says in a small, soft voice. “I was about to say how could I ever forget but I remembered that I literally cheated on you”, you chuckle, amused by your terrible, cherry-picking memory, “no, babe; I will never forget how much you love me”.

Xinyu pulls away from the hug with a smile on her face, but she hasn’t had enough of you just yet. “Your first load is mine, oppa”, she demands with an alluring lick on the lips. “If we weren’t in college, I wouldn’t bother with the pills”, Xinyu piles on, and admittedly, you’re very tempted. “Babe, let’s not be reckless”, you try to stay solid. “Don’t lie to yourself, oppa”, Xinyu smirks naughtily, “we both know we want it—just say the word and I’m yours”. You shut your eyes tightly; it’s very hard to not waver right now, but you—and Xinyu—know that it’s simply too risky and irresponsible. You take a deep breath as you think that you’ve found the perfect reply for her. “Love, I promise that we’ll talk about this one day—y’know, when we’re in a much more comfortable situation and so on”, you hope that Xinyu accepts this reply, because you’re stumped and can’t come up with anything better than this. Xinyu pecks you once and follows it up with a giggle, “sure, oppa”.

-

You break the kiss when you hear someone knock; “fucking shit timing”. Xinyu pinches your cheek softly, “it was your idea to have food sent here, oppa”. You take a deep breath to calm yourself down, “yeah, I know—come, let’s eat”. You close your eyes and walk around the room a little bit to lull your boner before answering the door. You take the plates from the staff’s hands and put them on the table. “One chicken cordon bleu for you, and one tenderloin steak for me”, you move Xinyu’s plate closer to her and start eating right away.

When you look to the side, you see that Xinyu is already halfway through her meal. “Eat faster, oppa. We have things to do”, she comments on your eating speed. “Fuck this shit”, you put down your utensils and start undressing, unable to hold your horniness back. Seeing you undress makes Xinyu want to follow suit, so she stops eating and takes off her clothes. “Oppa, fuck me—fuck, I want you so fucking bad”, Xinyu begs, as if it’s not clear as day already. You ask her if she wants to suck your cock first, but she firmly declines. “I want you somewhere else”, she says.

Xinyu pushes you onto the bed with all her strength. Sure, she’s not that strong compared to you, but your dramatization is enough to boost her confidence—you’re like a lion and Xinyu is your cub. Xinyu presses down on your wrists that are sitting idle next to your head, “you’ve fucked me countless times, but it’s now my turn to fuck you”. Seeing Xinyu be dominant arouses you beyond help, “fuck me, baby. Show me what you can do”. Xinyu moves her hips around and welcomes you in with ease. “Look, daddy; no hands—ow, fuck”, she yelps, overwhelmed by her own overexcitement.

Xinyu chants your name as she bounces on your cock. “I’m so lucky”, she says with troubled breaths, “you’re so fucking big, daddy”. You’d think that she has gotten used to your size at this point, but you welcome her effort to inflate your ego with open arms nonetheless. You know Xinyu can’t multitask when she’s impaled by your cock, and you can feel her grip on your wrists loosening. You free your wrists easily and pull her down to you, as you’re eager to become a neck painter again. “Yes, yes, fuck—mark me, daddy”, Xinyu eggs you on. Having your lips on her neck excites Xinyu even more, as proven by how she picks up the pace.

“I’m so close already, daddy—how am I so close already, fuck”, she announces to you. You decide to help her cum by matching her pace and meet her in the middle. “Let’s go, baby; let’s cum”, you groan, “fuck, you’re so good at this”. Xinyu removes you from her pussy with a scream, and you feel her juice splashing on your cock and thighs. “Fuck, what a good girl”, you praise her. Xinyu presses her face against your chest and screams more as she rides the high of orgasm until the end. To your surprise, Xinyu plants her teeth into your chest. “Babe, that hurts”, you grit your teeth in pain, “please, babe”. “Sorry, oppa; I just didn’t feel like screaming too loudly”, she says. Xinyu chuckles and points at the teeth mark, “I guess that’s my new mark”.

You don’t bother waiting for Xinyu to calm down and roll over until you’re on top. “You’ve had your fun, haven’t you?”, you move your face close to hers, “my turn now”. Xinyu tries to halt you, but since you’re impatient (and she did not say her safe word), you ignore her. You start thrusting into Xinyu at a high pace, and you see Xinyu’s eyes start rolling towards the back. You want to make sure the stimulation is maximized, so you latch your lips onto one of her tits and play with it. You retaliate against her for biting you in the chest by (lightly) biting her nipple, and Xinyu responds by screaming. “We’re even now”, you chuckle, “fuck, you’re so tight, babe”.

“Babe, babe”, you try to get her attention, “I’m so close”. Xinyu, in her highly stimulated state, weakly sticks out her tongue as if asking for a kiss, so you do as she asks. Now that you’re close to her face, you can hear her quiet moans. “Daddy, please”, she whispers between moans, “in-inside”. That’s as explicit of a consent as it gets, and you don’t bother asking twice. “Oh, fuck”, you let out a low moan as you release your first load of the day deep into Xinyu, granting her wish from earlier. “I love you so much, daddy”, she weakly says. “I love you more, baby girl”, you reply.

You gather your strength and lift Xinyu up while making sure you don’t pull out of her pussy. “W-where are we going?”, Xinyu’s battery is very low right now, and her voice is barely audible. “I don’t want to make a mess on the bed, babe”, you carry her towards the bathroom where she can safely leak out the excess cum. You sit on the toilet and pull Xinyu off your cock, and unsurprisingly, cum starts dripping out. “Let’s shower while we’re here, babe”, you tell her. “I’m going to need some help with that—I can’t feel my legs”, she replies.

You gently put her down on the floor right under the shower and get to her eye level. “Thank you for the cum, oppa”, Xinyu says with a smile, her eyes barely open. “The pleasure is mine, sweetie”, you pet her head, “you’re always so good”. You leave her sitting on the floor to get the soap and shampoo from the cabinet, and that is when you hear Xinyu scream. In a moment of shock, you see that she’s touching herself while squirting hard; her legs are shaking, and her eyes are rolling backwards again. “Yellow, yellow! Daddy, please; yellow!”, Xinyu chants her safe word in panic when she sees you approaching. “Baby, baby, hey”, you soothe her, “we’re done, babe; there’s nothing to worry about”. You pull Xinyu into a hug, “you’re okay, baby—we’re okay. I won’t hurt you”.

You notice that her breathing gradually calms down and returns to its normal pace. “I-I’m sorry, oppa; I just couldn’t take more”, Xinyu says. You reject her apology because there’s nothing to be sorry for to start with; “let’s get cleaned up, hey?”.  You pull Xinyu onto her feet and have her lean against the wall, “I hope your legs are strong enough to support you, babe”. “I hope so too”, she sighs, “how do you do this to me all the time, oppa?”. “Excuse me, babe”, you start running your soapy hands on her body, “yeah, I mean, I’m just me. It’s you that react so well to everything I do”.

-

As you’re walking out of the bathroom with Xinyu in your arms, you hear someone knock at the door. When you look through the peephole, you see that it’s Nakyoung. “One second!”, you yell out. You put Xinyu down on the bed and put on your shorts and boxers before opening the door. “Hi there”, you greet Nakyoung as she enters your room. “Oppa, I’m hungry”, Nakyoung whines, “buy me food, please”. You walk away from Nakyoung to help Xinyu get dressed up. “You can get room service if you want”, you say to Nakyoung as you’re tending to Xinyu. Xinyu then points at Nakyoung while giggling, and when you turn around, you see that she’s eating your and Xinyu’s leftovers. “Are you sure you want to eat that?”, you ask. “Eh, I don’t see why not”, Nakyoung shrugs, and you’re left with no choice but to let her do what she wants.

While Nakyoung is busy finishing your food, you pull Xinyu into your arms for a warm cuddle. “I love you, darling”, you whisper to Xinyu. “I love you more, oppa”, she whispers back with a cute smile on her face. You put a hand on the small of her back and start petting her; “God, you’re so beautiful, baby”. “Xinyu hides her pink cheeks by tucking her head under your chin, “th-thank you, oppa—I swear, you’re so random sometimes”. You quickly glance at Nakyoung and see that she’s still busy eating/being on her phone, so you let her be until she announces that she wants something else.

-

You open your eyes slowly as your soul returns to you. Three of your senses confirm Xinyu’s presence, and it helps put your mind at ease since you have a habit of panicking when you wake up without Xinyu. “Babe?”, you lightly slap her butt to get her attention. Xinyu lets out grunts and hums as she gathers her consciousness. “What?”, she weakly asks. “Let’s wake up, babe; save the sleep for later, hm?”, you point at the clock, “don’t you want to get dinner?”. “Help me wake up”, she says, but instead of letting go of the cuddle, she wraps her limbs more tightly around you.

You try spraying kisses on her head, but Xinyu doesn’t budge. You try offering to have sex after dinner, but Xinyu still doesn’t budge. You resort to your last trick, “okay, fine. I’ll just have dinner with Nakyoung-ie”. Triggered, Xinyu moves to sit on your lap and chokes you with both hands, “the fuck did you just say?”. “I-I’m sorry”, you hold her forearms and try to free yourself from her grip, “ugh—ba-babe, p-please”. Xinyu lets go of your neck and delivers a warning, “do not say such thing again. It’s already hard enough for me to share you with her—I’m not letting her steal you from me”. You close your eyes as you try and control your breathing, “I-I’m sorry, baby. I-I just wanted to ha-have dinner with you—fuck—I-I didn’t mean to offend you”. Xinyu rubs your cheeks gently as a gesture of apology, “I’m sorry, oppa. I didn’t mean to choke you like that—I was triggered, though”.

After getting yourself together, you sit on the edge of the bed and ask Xinyu to sit on your lap. “Baby, were you serious about that? You hate sharing me with Nakyoung-ie?”, you ask. Xinyu nods while looking away, “I thought it would be fun but now I just get jealous more than anything”. “Do you want to talk about this with her?”, you offer her a solution. “What if she leaves us? I don’t want to lose a friend”, she argues. “I think she’ll understand”, you argue, “if she chooses to leave us, then let her—if I were to choose, I’d choose you over her”. Xinyu goes silent as she considers your idea. “Fine”, she sighs, “just not tonight, oppa. We already came all the way here; let’s not ruin the mood for her and ourselves”. You smile and pull her in for a kiss to remind her that she’s your number one. “Let’s have dinner, babe”.

-

Xinyu moves her chair closer to you so that she can lean against your shoulder. “Oppa, I’m so sorry for hurting you”, she whispers while taking your hands in hers. “Hurting me?”, you realize that she’s referring to choking you earlier, “oh, it’s okay. It was wrong of me to say such thing—didn’t know you had it in you like that, though”. Xinyu keeps on spamming you with apologies, and you patiently reply to each one with “it’s okay, baby”. “Babe, look”, you point at the waiter who is on his way to your table, “our food is here”.

Your food is indeed here, and so is Nakyoung, as you see over the waiter’s shoulders that she’s walking towards you. “Hi”, she waves, seemingly in low spirits, “having dinner?”. You invite her to take a seat at your table, “are you okay? You look a bit down”. Nakyoung imitates Xinyu: she moves her chair closer to you and leans against your other shoulder. “I’m not feeling well and you’re ignoring me”, she complains, “can I not have you for a moment? Xinyu-yah, can I be with oppa for a bit?”. You take a quick look at Xinyu and see that she’s giving you a nod of approval. “We’ll go to your room after this, okay? Go order something, sweetie”, you say to Nakyoung, and she walks towards the register with heavy steps to order something for herself.

You and Xinyu start eating first since your food is already on the table. Nakyoung, who hasn’t had enough of you yet, wraps her arms around the lower part of your torso and tucks her head somewhere between your chest and abdomen. You try to guess Xinyu’s feelings by observing her facial expressions, and you see that she has a neutral face on right now; “this should be okay”, you think to yourself. You’re not entirely satisfied with your assessment, so you pick up some spaghetti from your plate and guide it towards Xinyu’s lips. “Choo-choo, baby”, you say as your spoon gets closer to her mouth. “Oh, it’s working!”, you say internally as Xinyu takes the food from your spoon and munches with a smile on her face.

-

You stop in front of Nakyoung’s room and exchange farewells with Xinyu; “I’ll see you tomorrow, baby”. Xinyu nods and tells you to take care of Nakyoung and help her feel better. “Of course, love”, you say with a smile that says, “I understand my duty”. Xinyu returns the smile to you before going in her (your) room.

You enter Nakyoung’s room with her after having her unlock it, and as soon as you’re in, you lift Nakyoung by her butt and carry her to the bed. “How are you feeling, sweetie?”, you ask her. “Two things, oppa”, Nakyoung puts up two fingers in front of you, “I want attention, and I’m horny”. You smile lovingly, “let’s tackle one issue at a time, hm?”.

You move to the middle of the bed and pull her into a seated cuddle. You notice that Nakyoung is pouting; “oppa, do something”. “Before we do anything, I need to ask”, you hold her chin and turn her face towards you, “why did you choose to be my side chick? We both know you deserve to be someone’s number one”. Nakyoung takes your hand and moves it to her cheek, rubbing her face against it like a cat. “Why would I be someone’s number one when being your number two gets me everything I want?”, she says. You’re not sure what she meant by that, so you ask her to explain. “First and foremost, you are kind and respectful to me”, she starts, “secondly, you know how to use your cock—that’s all I want right now”. “Yeah, but like, I can’t give you undivided attention because I have Xinyu”, you argue. Nakyoung shrugs, “I’ve been your third wheel for so long, I’ve gotten used to not having your full attention”.

You’re not sure how to react to that, thus staying silent as you try and think about it. “If you’re still having doubt, oppa, we can talk about it”, she says. “One day, sweeheart—not today”, you say with a smile, “you said you want attention? What kind?”. Nakyoung tightens her arms and legs around you, “stay with me tonight, oppa; we can have sex later if you want. I’ll return you to your girlfriend tomorrow morning”. “A little correction, if I may”, you say in a soft tone, “you’re the one who controls the sex, not me. If you’re not in the mood, we don’t have to—there’s no issue with that, you know”. “Sure, whatever you say”, she chuckles, “see what I mean? Always so respectful, especially when it comes to sex”.

As you move to lie down with Nakyoung, your brain starts wondering how you got this mindset, and your best guess is it came from your parents. You’ve seen how your dad treats your mom with respect and kindness when you were growing up, and that’s probably how your brain picked up the lesson. “I know that look”, Nakyoung says, “you’re thinking about something”. You blink rapidly to turn your focus back on her, “uh, yeah. I was just thinking about my parents”. She tilts her head in confusion, “what about them?”. You sigh, “I hope they’re proud of how I’ve turned out as a man”. She puts her head on your chest, “I’m sure they are; you are a good person. I mean, shit, look at Xinyu: she’s been so loyal to you because of who you are as her boyfriend—well, your little oopsie with Dahyun-ie was your first fuck-up of the relationship”. “Oh, right, Seo Dahyun”, you think to yourself, “I need to make it right with her one day”.

-

“Fuck, who am I kidding?”, Nakyoung straddles you quickly, “oppa, I want you”. “Huh?”, you were ready to go to sleep, but the narrator had other plans, “excuse me?”. Nakyoung slaps you, “sorry for that, but you need to get your head in the game”. Nakyoung takes off her T-shirt and tosses it over her head. “Touch me, oppa”, she grabs your hands and places them on her covered tits. Even behind bra, Nakyoung’s tits are very soft. As you’re playing with her tits, Nakyoung starts humping your crotch. Yearning for more stimulation, she takes off her bra and throws it away; “more, oppa”. You pinch her erect nipples, “is this your idea of attention?”. Nakyoung nods, “fuck, I want your cock so bad”.

Earlier, you’ve made it clear to her that she’s the one who controls the sex, and since she’s now made it clear that she wants to have sex, then what option do you have other than to oblige? “If you want something, cookie, come get it”, you tease her. Nakyoung responds by sloppily dragging your joggers off your legs, revealing the boxers underneath it. She moves down so that her face hovers over your crotch, “may I, oppa?”. You give her your approval in the form of an encouraging nod, so Nakyoung grabs the waistband and pulls down hard. “Look at you”, she starts stroking your cock, “so hard and big—all for me”.

Nakyoung parts her lips and takes you in her mouth, and you can’t help but sink your head into the pillow. “Fuck, so good”, you murmur. Nakyoung asks for your attention by tapping the side of your thigh, and when you look down, you see that she’s gradually going down on your cock while maintaining eye contact. You’re getting impatient, but like you’ve said earlier, she controls the sex—not just the “when”, but also the “how”. You let praises fly out of your lips, hoping that they’ll rile her up more, and it seems to be working. She face-fucks herself rapidly, ignoring the risk of choking on your cock. You pet the side of her head, “you’re doing great, baby—oh, fuck”.

You’re surprised when Nakyoung decides to let you go from her mouth. “No, don’t cum yet; I want it somewhere else”, she says. “Yeah? Where?”, you ask, getting impatient. She asks you to get off the bed before getting on her hands and knees. “In my ass, please”, Nakyoung says, wiggling her butt left and right to tempt you. You don’t want to hurt her, “do you have lube?”. She shakes her head, “I don’t care if it hurts—I’m yours anyway”.

Your cock is already coated by her spit, so you use yours to lube her rear entrance. Nakyoung jolts in surprise, “oh, fuck, I thought that was your cock”. You ask her one more time if she’s sure, but she still doesn’t falter. You spread her cheeks to reveal your target. Before you start, you ask Nakyoung what her safe word is, to which she replies that she doesn’t need one. “Fuck me, please”, she says. You place a finger on her asshole and rub it in circles before slowly penetrating her rear with it. “Fuck, why wouldn’t you just fuck me?”, Nakyoung airs her annoyance. You pull out your finger out of her ass, “you want to get fucked? Fine, let’s do it”.

You spread her ass with one hand and use the other to guide your cock towards her asshole. Nakyoung starts panting when your tip touches her. “If you want to back out, say it now”, you warn, ready to force your way into her forbidden hole. “Do it”, Nakyoung whispers as she braces for the pain. You’re not that experienced in anal sex, but you know that nervousness doesn’t help with penetration. You pull Nakyoung’s torso towards you and into a sitting position. You then grab her chin and come in for a kiss. “I’ll make sure it doesn’t hurt that much”, you assure her, and she seems to be reacting well to your words.

Nakyoung shows you the green light once again in the form of spreading her cheeks for you, and now that your target is clearly in sight, you’re ready to start. You grab your cock and push forward until the tip is in, earning grunts of pain from Nakyoung. “Relax, baby—fuck, you’re so tight”, the sensation her rear is giving you makes you groan, but you don’t want to stop here; you grab Nakyoung’s waist and pull her down so that more of your shaft enters her ass. “Ngh, ngh”, Nakyoung can only groan as her muscles are stretched by your girth. “Oh, God, you’re so deep in me, daddy”, she finally manages to say something after your shaft is almost entirely inside her.

Nakyoung understands that she can’t scream out loud, so she falls face first onto the pillow and uses it to muffle her noises. “Ahng—I-I’m ready”, she says with troubled breaths, “fuck-fuck me”. You make sure your posture is perfect for doggy, and for good measure, you slap her butt a few times, “I’m going”. Once Nakyoung is face down on the pillow, you start pulling back from her ass until only your tip is inside. You hear Nakyoung say something into the pillow, so you lean forward to check if she said her safe word, “what’s that, baby?”. She lifts her face off the pillow and pecks you on the lips, “fuck me, daddy; make me take it—gape me”. You smile naughtily in response, “bet”.

You return to your previous posture and slap her ass a few times, “I’m going again, baby”. Nakyoung scrunches her face in pain, “oh, fuck, my ass—p-please be gentle”. You give her a nod before pushing deeper into her overwhelming tightness; “fuck, this must hurt for you”. “Fuck, fuck!”, Nakyoung screams in pain, “I-I—fuck, just-just make me take it!”. You’re not sure what is causing her to be so determined, but since she’s still consenting to this, it’s in your best interest to keep playing along; “if you say so”.

“I wonder what it’ll be like if I go fast”, a reckless thought enters your mind, “only one way to find out”. Driven by said recklessness, you plant your knees into the bed and hold Nakyoung by the waist, “be good, baby”. “Huh? OH, FU—“, Nakyoung bites the pillow to suppress her scream—you’re fucking her asshole as if it were her pussy: fast and deep. “Fuck, this is crazy”, you comment with a grunt, “how are you taking me like this?”. If Nakyoung’s face wasn’t flat against the pillow, her screams would be heard all the way to the reception desk. You lean forward to whisper in her ear, “hah, fuck—how are you feeling, baby?”. Nakyoung lifts her face slightly, and you see that tears are running down her face. “It hurts, daddy—fuck, it hurts so bad”, Nakyoung says weakly, “I love it”. You pause your thrusts due to the shock, “you love it? Did I hear that right?”. Nakyoung doubles down on it with a smirk, “I love taking you in my ass, daddy”.

“She’s in pain but she said she loves it—ah, fuck it; let’s keep going”, you throw the last bits of doubt out the window and continue fucking her ass, eager to get an orgasm from it. “I’m not pulling out, by the way”, you say to her. Nakyoung straightens her back and leans against your body, “c-can we change position, daddy? I-I want to see you—please!”. You agree to her request and pull out momentarily to switch to missionary—oh, my, it’s so tight! “Like this, baby?”, you hover over her and ask to make sure that this position is satisfactory. Nakyoung grabs your chin and pulls your face towards her for a deep kiss. You try pulling away, but she chases you and invades your mouth space with her tongue.

After having had enough of you, Nakyoung breaks the kiss with a gasp. “Oppa, listen to me, please”, she takes a deep breath to calm herself down after the kiss, “I’m submitting myself to you”. You blink rapidly, acting like you were confused, “excuse me?”. Nakyoung puts on a pout when she sees that you didn’t pick it up the first time. “I hate you sometimes”, she huffs, “I said I’m submitting myself to you—I belong to you now”. You know where she’s going with this, but surely it doesn’t hurt to act like a fool every now and then; “but you’ve been by my side for a while now, no?”, you ask with a straight face. She swaps her pout with a frown, “you’re not cooperating right now, seriously—tell me, which part of it do you not understand?”.

You sneakily move a hand towards her tits and pinch a nipple, thus earning a gasp from Nakyoung, “oh, I understand, baby—I was just playing”. “I hate you”, Nakyoung gasps again when you pinch her other nipple, “f-fuck me again, please”. Ass-to-pussy doesn’t sound too hygienic, so you return to her ass, which welcomes you more easily than before. “Yes, daddy, yes”, she sticks her tongue out very lewdly, “I’m yours, I’m yours—fuck, I’m your bitch”. Hearing her refer to herself like that stuns you for a millisecond, but your guess is that it was the heat of the moment (or the heat in her ass) that caused her to say that.

“I think I’m close”, you announce to her while still maintaining a consistent pace of thrusts. “I want to cum with you, daddy—oh, God, my ass”, Nakyoung puts a hand on her pussy and starts touching herself, aiming to cum together with you. You grab her ankles and put them on each shoulder as you put your back into fucking her properly. She uses her free hand to cover her mouth in case orgasm hits.

“FUCK!”, you exclaim as you bury your cock deep in her rear and blow your second load into her. In the moment of drowsiness, you feel Nakyoung’s juice hitting you in the pelvis. “Heh, heheh”, Nakyoung laughs weakly, “Xinyu is missing out”. You shake your head rapidly to regain focus, “really? You still have the energy to think about Xinyu?”. Nakyoung doesn’t answer, and instead asks you to pull out of her ass. “Oh, fuck, finally”, she sighs in relief, “how does it look, daddy?”.

You move backwards a bit to inspect your work; “gaped—you’re so fucking gaped”.

[curryalley]

I need Clint Barton to meet Dick Grayson.

I need Clint to roll into a SHIELD ops assignment meeting having absolutely not read the briefing materials before the meeting. I need Phil Coulson to explain that there has been a serious threat against the life of Dick Grayson. Wayne Corp is about to announce some new initiatives. Intelligence confirms a criminal syndicate plans to kidnap Dick Grayson to force Bruce Wayne to call off the plans. SHIELD needs Wayne Corp to go through with it (and kidnapped sons of billionaires are always a headache) so Clint, we've created an identity for you as a Wayne Corp employee to keep an on things.

And Clint has to be like, "Yeah that won't work."

The analysts immediately take offense. "It's an airtight identity, you've done worse undercover work than babysitting a billionaire's kid."

Clint interrupts. "I can't pretend to be someone else around Dick Grayson. I know him. Me. Clint Barton. We were friends when we were kids."

Everyone at the meeting is losing it and Clint stares at them all. "How many circus kids do you think there are? Haley's and Carson's didn't tour together but our paths crossed in the offseason."

That explains why during his afternoon walk home, Dick Grayson comes across his childhood friend, Clint Barton, wearing jeans and a purple tank top, juggling and doing tricks for cash on the street. SHIELD has adjusted Clint Barton's identity so he's down on his luck, busking for spare change because it's hard to get a job when you're a deaf former circus performer with barely a GED.

Of course Dick wants to help and they reconnect. Dick asks Clint to perform at a Wayne gala. The same gala where the goons attempt to grab Dick Grayson. Dick keeps trying to slip out and change into Nightwing but? Somehow? Clint is always behind him? They're both trying to fight off the goons, still in their civvies, each trying to rescue each other while also not giving away their secret idecities,

"Where did you learn to fight like that?"

"I used to be a cop. Where did you learn to fight like that?"

"Would you believe me if I said bar fights?"

When it's all over, there's some disagreement about who is walking who home but Clint insists since Dick was almost kidnapped. Clint gets into his Hawkeye gear and plans to spend the night watching Dick's building for trouble when he sees Nightwing go swinging away from it.

Naturally he follows. Nightwing is meeting with the bats to report on the kidnapping attempt when there's a wild bit of confusion and mistaken identity as one of the bats slams Hawkeye to the ground and demands to know why he's following Nightwing.

Clint's lying there partially stunned at being nearly splattered by one of the robins or something when Nightwing leans over him.

"Clint?"

"Hey, Dick."

Clint and Dick were already friends but that's the story of how Hawkeye meets Nightwing.

(In the sequel, Clint turns up outside Dick's apartment months later. He's wearing multiple bandages, drinking a coffee with the name on the cup horribly misspelled with a K and holding Lucky's leash. He looks at Dick and says, "The Tracksuit Mafia has moved to Bludhaven, you got any plans tonight?")

[nebbyy]

Hi! I'm not sure if you are currently taking requests, so feel free to ignore mine if you aren't! If you are taking them, however, would you please write something for King Baldwin IV overhearing reader sing and falling further in love with her because of her soft and sweet voice? Upon realizing that he's there, she becomes extremely flustered and apologizes for disrupting his peace and quiet. Thank you!

King Baldwin IV x reader - Sweetest of melodies

A/N: omg it’s been so long since I’ve received a request! I can’t lie, Baldwin is my supreme comfort character, I think I’ll never stop writing fro him because it gives me sooo much joy😩😩😩 I personally like to think of this piece as taking place a few months after Baldwin’s and reader’s wedding, so it could be considered a sequel for my first fic ever. Also, the song mentioned in this piece is a real song from the 12th century called "Can vei la lauzeta" (in English,"When I see the lark") by Bernart de Ventadorn, and the painting is "Lovers in a garden" by Charles Edward Perugini!!

Oh btw!! I’m working on a long ass series about him, based off of a prompt by @phantomsghoulette  which I absolutely LOVED. Sooo all the KoH fans stay tuned for future updates🤭

Warning: nothing really, just pure fluff. Maybe you could say that religious innuendos could be something triggering for some people but I don’t know. There might be ONE, SLIGHTLY spicy mention but only if you squint really really hard. Also, keep in mind that the historical accuracy in my fics is rather relative, I try to add some details here and there but I don’t have the knowledge (nor the skills) to write a piece 100% accurate to the real history. Also, reader’s gender is female and uses she/her pronouns!!

Word count: 2918

Someone would say Baldwin's patience could already be put to test by only his illness, which she ruthlessly does not grant him a moment's respite, the eternal enemy of his body and his spirit. But no, to this perpetual torment of his had to be added the perilous duties of a king. And it was certainly not governing his people and lands that sucked what little energy he had left; this duty of his, given by his father and willed by divine design, he had long since embraced.

It was the nobles, the leeches who had drained him of his lifeblood lately. It was their endless demands, the insidious words that hissed behind his back, the languid bows and sleazy gifts designed only to gain some favor from him. Looking around him, he seemed to see only vices and sinners, power-hungry beasts just waiting for his moment of weakness so they could feed on what Baldwin had under his power.

In fact, not without reason in the past the young monarch had attempted to abdicate the throne and leave it in the hands of one of his sisters, rid himself of this burden and devote the rest of his short life taking care of his declining health and to nurture his mind away from so much corruption. At times he dreamed of retiring to France, experiencing for the first time that cold climate and verdant landscape of which his preceptors and advisors told him so much.

In fact, not without reason in the past the young monarch had attempted to abdicate the throne and leave it in the hands of one of his sisters, rid himself of this burden and devote the rest of his short life taking care of his declining health and to nurture his mind away from so much corruption. At times he dreamed of retiring to France, to experience for the first time that cold climate and verdant landscape of which his preceptors and advisors told him so much.

And he dreamed of taking you with him, imagined how sweet his life would be if his only concerns were taking care of his health and you, faithful wife, sole blessing in his life battered by such burdens. How he would wish that his days would revolve around you, that his first thought in the morning would be riding by your side through the flourishing meadows, and his last thought in the evening would be caressing your face as you lie slumbering in his arms.

It would have been a blissful fate his, if only Sybilla's husband had not died at the very moment when he would have needed him most. If only his mother had not convinced him that Guido de Lusignan was a good fit for his sister and had continued to seek a new consort for her, perhaps that fate would not have been snatched from him so early. Too late to repent now, for Baldwin would have preferred to die agonizingly on his throne rather than leave power in the hands of that bumptious and arrogant lord, who was noble only in title.

And so he found himself in this sort of hellish limbo, forced into a position that should never be required of a man in his condition, but prevented by his morality from abandoning his reign, impelled by faith in God's greater plan, that his suffering should not be in vain.

And his faith always seemed to strengthen when he had a way to escape the stifling air that characterized the throne room, always packed with knights and crusaders and nobles, when he had a way to retreat to the palace gardens, one of the few verdant places in all of Jerusalem.

With slow, swaying steps, Baldwin strolled slowly among the local palm trees and flower beds from the faraway lands, those where men speak Italian and the more distant ones, those from which his fathers came. Exotic fruits mingled with those more congenial to the French, who out of nostalgia for their lands and fields did what they could to bring the seeds of these plants with them to overseas.

His mind seemed to go out, shifting his attention from the constant buzz of court demands and duties to the chirping of birds perched on the roof, to the eviction of the soft branches that shielded him from the scorching sun. He enjoyed the refreshing air that reigned in that small oasis of greens, which was able to infiltrate the fabric of his white robes, crossing the bandages that covered much of his body and finally reaching his skin, numbed by leprosy. 

To tell the truth, of that refreshing sensation little reached his damaged nerves, if not for those few points that had been spared by the merciless disease, from which departed that unusual shiver that caused him a delicate smile of relief, enjoying the refreshing breeze. Then he closed his eyes and breathed in, discovering with satisfied surprise that that light gust was also a harbinger of an intoxicating perfume, a mixture of exotic and familiar.

How funny to think of the concept of "exotic", for an Angevin born and raised in the unknown lands of the east. For him it was exotic French fruit, exotic were the green plains and heavy clothing that brought his allies from the northwest, and equally alien to the snowy mountains and forest beasts that he saw drawn in detail in his childhood books. It was these changes of perspective that stimulated his mind in a myriad of thoughts and reflections, but in a pleasurable way for him, not as exhausting as his daily duties.

His reflections on exotic and local made his mind travel, wandering until he came to a subject very close to him: Muslims and Jews, reflecting well on the landscape in front of him, recognized that he could share with them the same concepts of what is foreign and what they can claim the original belonging. And he could not but reflect on how it must have been for the first inhabitants of Jerusalem to observe the Franks who came as conquerors, and filled their gardens with such foreign plants as those pale warriors who had taken possession of their dwelling... But after all, the French soldiers who were emissaries of God’s will needed something familiar to stabilize them as they fought to reclaim the Promised Land, ut Deus voluit.

But all his brooding over these matters of conquest and submission ended up in the background in his mind, when a colorful scarlet sphere caught his attention. An exquisitely red apple seemed to tempt him from a branch just above his head, beckoning him to be picked and savored by the king, that he might lose himself in the juicy sweetness of that fruit with origins so far removed from the Holy Land. But the king's modesty prevented him from yielding to that temptation, wanting to avoid exposing the advanced state of deterioration in which his mouth was.

And in fact if that temptation had been alive it would have pale in front of something much more captivating, a sound that echoed in the most melodious distance of the song of any nightingale. Baldwin was surprised to think that he had not realized before the melody that inibriated the atmosphere around him, so taken by the tribulations of his mind that he almost missed such an intoxicating song. He did not know what he felt once he arrived in Heaven, if he had ever arrived in spite of the unjust fate in Hell that the evil Saracens wished him. He didn’t know it, but if one ever had to imagine what Heaven sounded like, that song would come to mind.

When I see the lark beating 

Its wings in joy against the rays of the sun 

That it forgets itself and lets itself fall 

Because of the sweetness that comes to its heart

She sang in Occitan, the beautiful one in the distance. The voice of his people, of his lineage, that few in the palace can pronounce after so many years of distance from their homeland in Provence. Paying more attention to the echoing song, he would not even have had to approach it to give a face to that melodic voice: he knew how to recognize his wife’s voice.

Yet it was a new context in which he saw you, new facets of you that he had not yet had a chance to observe. Your voice, sweet as honey, venerable like all your other traits, he had never heard it except in speech, when you were proclaiming orders before your subjects with the authority fit for a queen, or when you laughed at the poems and performances of the court singers, or when you whispered in Baldwin’s ears sweet words, while you lay with bodies merged between the soft silk sheets. Always spoken, but never sung.

Alas! Such great envy then overwhelms me 

Of all those whom I see rejoicing,

But though he didn’t need to approach you to recognize you, the desire to see your face exceeded any of his other needs. As if mesmerized by the sound of a siren, Baldwin was advancing towards you, with steps so slow that it seemed a hunter about to catch a deer in the woods. He wanted nothing more than to hear you sing again, that you continue to bless him with that angelic melody. What worse sin would there be than to interrupt your song, more sacred than a prayer?

His stomach filled with butterflies and turned upside down like the beasts' jugglers, his breath seemed to stop in his throat, depriving him of the breath he no longer needed, as long as he could hear you sing a moment more. And her cheeks warmed, when finally she saw you among the white lilies, more beautiful than divine salvation.

I wonder that my heart, at that moment, 

Does not melt from desire.

Baldwin wondered if you sang with him in mind, if those words of love reflected your own emotional turmoil. 

Oh, if only it were so, and your singing equalled his own words inscribed in the sonnets and poems he composed in your honor, which he himself commissioned from your favorite singers to perform at banquets, only to steal an embarrassed smile and to see the blush of your cheeks, along with the glint in your eyes.

Whether it was or not, the outcome remained the same since he was at that moment in your proximity, in the same state mixed with adoration, love and wonder at the bold gesture. But if only he had confirmation from your words...

Alas! How much I thought I knew 

About love, and how little I know, 

Because I cannot keep myself from loving 

The one from whom I will gain nothing.

"My angel, your voice sounds like heaven but your words are false." Baldwin practically saw you blow up from your session, completely taken aback by his sudden appearance, unaware that your husband has been acting as a secret public all this time. Your initial surprise quickly turns into a laugh to mask your embarrassment for being caught in a moment like this, when you thought you were alone to be able to run the streets of music with your voice.

"I beg your pardon, I thought I was alone in the gardens," your eyes met his own only for a moment, before you turned your face to try and hide the blush of your face, "it was just a silly song I heard singing to the Provençal knights. I hope I did not disrupt your walk, my love..”

He laughed softly, trying to hide his amusement from having caught you off guard. He approached you more quickly than when he did just a few moments before, but with the same phlegm that managed to inspire a feeling of safeness in you. Sitting by your side on the bare rock, he raised his bandaged hand to gently cup your face and make you turn your eyes towards him. It was only then, when you had no choice but to look at Baldwin in the face that you noticed how his eyes, the only part of his face exposed to the outside world, formed two half-moons, and you came to find that it was because of how widely he was smiling, as you lowered the veil from his face. 

He was making fun of you, you realized. With that swagger in his manner, you understood that his amusement came from your embarrassment at that silly misunderstanding. Laughing softly, he gently shook his head before bringing both hands to your face, holding it as if it were the most sacred of relics. "As much as I would love to hear you sing of your affection for me, just to hear your voice echoing in the air is the sweetest of gifts. How could you deprive me of this blessing thus far, my dear?"

You could do nothing but giggle at his sweet words, bringing your hands to his wrists to feel him closer to you. "You flatter me, my king. My voice boasts nothing more than those sweet melodies that the singers in the palace sing. Mine is only a dabble."

His gaze softened, his playful spirit addicted to your presence. He took the floor again, in a tone as soft as cotton, "At least this once, my queen, allow me to disagree with your words. My life may be short and my reality small, but never have I heard such an angelic voice, singing such sweet melodies. And God may not yet have granted me the ability to predict the future, but in my heart I know well that never will any singer be able to hold a candle to your beautiful voice, never will any song be able to express the same feeling of ecstasy.

"You, my angel, have managed to make a simple ballad an absolute work of art through your voice. I think I should take you with me into battle next time, for with your mere voice you could addict Saladin and his entire army.

"And seeing you here, angelic and perfect like the lilies that surround you, singing so softly that it would make any bird jealous, that I realize that whatever toil, whatever challenges God has stored up for me, and all those that still await me in my life, are worth it, if at the end of each of them there is you, voice of an angel, to hold a place for me in your arms of heaven." 

You were sure you were on the verge of crying a flood of tears, the result of pure emotion at his sweet words. It was not new to you that Baldwin worshipped you as much as the God to whom his kingdom was consecrated, from the first moment he got to hear your voice and admire your face, and you knew at once that he had become yours, body and soul. But it was new to you to see him like that, completely entranced by your simple being-it was something new. A wonderful newness that made you feel like the most desired of women on this earth.

Taken by a rush of boldness, you practically jumped into his arms, wrapping your arms around his neck; you ended up on top of him, with his hands around your hips. You both laughed, like two little boys frolicking in the gardens. And you left a kiss on his left cheek, then on the bridge of his nose. A kiss again on his forehead, and then down on the side of his lips. When you were about to give him another kiss, just where he most yearned for your lips, against his, you stopped a few inches away, with a wide smile, before speaking again, "If so little is enough to make your happiness, then I will sing to you every day, whenever you ask. Let me be your nightingale, your morning song and your lullaby all at once!"

"I couldn't wish for anything else, my dear. Now, however, I beg you, sing one more melody for me, before my duties drag me back to the palace, and I shall consider myself a blessed man."

"With great pleasure, my love." Your voice was now little more than a whisper. With a languid movement, Baldwin moved his body to rest his head on your lap, and you eagerly greeted him. After slightly moving the hood that veiled his head, so that you could play with his golden locks, you began to sing a new melody, one that this time spoke of reciprocated love, of the joy of being able to hold your loved one in your arms. But the words you sang barely reached Baldwin before his sky-colored eyes closed softly, his mind giving him at least a moment's despite from his perilous life. You continued to sing, caressing his face, which from day to day appeared more and more mutilated by his disease, singing the sweetest of melodies so as to prolong this idyll in which you and your husband found yourselves in. 

For with you Baldwin had a way of putting the crown aside, and being nothing more than a foolish young man in love, whose only duty was to love you, to love you with all the love that an angel like you deserved.

@sweetworkoffiction hope you like it <3

[holylulusworld]

Omega by nature

Summary: You're an omega by nature.

Pairing: Alpha!Dean Winchester x Omega!Reader

Warnings: angst, language, a/b/o, chasing, a hint of fear, OOC Dean, character's death

Sequel to: Beta in heart

A/N: Part 2/3

A few minutes before Dean came back to the bunker, …

Your eyes snap open and you’re gasping for air. The first thing you do when you jolt up on your mattress is touch your mating gland. Another nightmare woke you from your dreams.

“Only a dream,” you whimper as your mating gland is still untouched. The monster didn’t get the chance to destroy it. “How…why?” Just now you hear someone growl outside your room. “What?”

“Dean, you need to stop!” You can hear Sam outside your room, and then something hits your door. “DEAN!”

“She’s mine!” That’s Dean, fighting with his brother to get inside your room. “I got the get her! Sammy, get out of my way!”

You hear a loud thud and something sounding like a heavy body dropping to the ground. 

“OPEN THE DOOR!”

Now, …

“OMEGA!” Dean steps inside your room. He sniffs in all directions, almost like a predator scenting his prey. “Omega?” A throaty purr leaves his lips catching your scent. “Y/N?”

You clasp one hand over your mouth. If Dean finds you in your hideout, he’ll not be able to control his instinct. He made it very clear, that you are not the woman he wants. Omega or not.

“Y/N, come out,” he crouches down to look under your bed. “There you are.” He lies flat on the floor, hand reaching out to touch your ankle. “Omega, you need to come here.”

“Go away,” you shrug his hand off your leg. “You can’t be here, Dean. Please leave my room. Your scent will ruin it. Please…”

“I can’t go,” he grabs your ankle again, tugging at it. You try to crawl away, but Dean won’t let go of your leg. “Get out from under your bed. We need to talk. Stop acting like a child.” Dean growls. You can hear him growl low in his throat.

Dean fights from control. If not, he’ll drag you out from under the bed and mate you. “Let me go.” You kick and scream as Dean crawls under the bed to wrap his arms around your body. “I’m warning you!”

“You need to calm down, or you’ll go feral,” he snarls in your ear. “I can smell you. Why did you reveal you’re an omega now?”

You wiggle in his grip and refuse to answer his question. “Let me go!”

“OMEGA!” You stiffen at his alpha command. While your instinct tells you to give in to Dean’s demands, you are too stubborn to obey. “Give in.” He sniffs your neck, purring low in his throat when you tilt your head. “Answer me.”

“I told you that I didn’t want you and Sam to believe I’m a liability,” you bite back. “And after you told me my presentation doesn’t change how you feel about me, I thought I could stop using suppressants and scent blockers. That shit is expensive!”

“What if Sammy would’ve lost control, huh? With an omega smelling like you around, he could’ve easily lost control,” Dean growls. 

“Sammy doesn’t see me that way, Dean. He would never…”

“Nature gives a shit about feelings, Y/N,” he tightens his hold on you when you start wiggling again. “An alpha scenting an omega like you will lose control. You’re lucky I knocked him out.”

A cold shiver runs down your spine at Dean’s words. “You did what? Dean, you can’t just knock your brother out. What has gotten into you?”

”Do you know how hard I try to keep my alpha in control?” He nuzzles your neck. “If I let go, I’ll claim, mate, and knot you until you can’t walk straight for a week.”

“I won’t let you,” you ram your elbow into his stomach, making him growl. “You fucked Cassie not days ago. Do you honestly believe I’ll let you stick your dick into me?”

“Bad move, sweetheart,” Dean bites your neck. His teeth don’t leave a mark, but you stiffen and hold your breath. He grazes your mating gland with his teeth, making sure you know he’s not joking. “We won’t leave this room before we talk things out.”

“I need to get away from you, Dean! You smell like rut,” you’re out of breath from wiggling in his hold. “Please, you don’t want me.

“I smell like rut, but Castiel helped me suppress it,” he whispers in your ear. “Still, I’m struggling to hold back and not mate you.” 

“You’re mine. Always were meant to be mine,” His voice dangerously low Dean snarls in your ear. “You had no right to hide your presentation from me. I tried so hard to stay away from you to not hurt you. I could’ve had my omega all this time!”

“Fuck you,” you snap at Dean before you ram your elbow into his solar plexus. He winces in pain and finally releases his hold on you. 

You take the chance and crawl away, getting on your feet as fast as you can to go for a sprint. Dean is fast and strong. You must be faster to escape him.

“Y/N! Don’t!” He warns, but you are halfway out of the room. You slam the door shut behind you, holding your breath as you find Sam on the ground. 

“Fuck. Sammy! He didn’t lie,” you crouch down to check on Sam’s pulse. He’s out cold, but he’s breathing. “I’m so sorry, Sam. He’s out of his mind…”

“OMEGA!”

“Shit,” you curse, and get back up to run along the hallways. If you can reach Sam or Castiel’s room, their scent will cover your scent. “Stay away from me!”

“Get back here!”

Dean chases after you. He curses under his breath as you speed up to dash toward his brother’s room. “I can see where you are going! There is no need to hide. I only want to talk to you.”

You stop in your tracks to look over your shoulder. Dean flashes you a toothy smirk, showing off his teeth. The last time he looked at you like that was when he was a demon – and that wasn’t a pleasant experience.

Dean dips his head, waiting for your next step. “Chasing me around the bunker won’t make me forgive you, Dean. You know this will end badly if you don’t stop right now. I’ll castrate you before I let you mate me.”

He chuckles darkly. His eyes glow, and his teeth look a little sharper when he smirks at you. “Sweet little omega, I’m going to chase you down.”

“Okay. That is enough,” you don’t know what has gotten into Dean, but this is not your friend. Something is more than wrong with him, and you fear he’ll go feral if you don’t stop him right now. “How about we talk this out?”

You tilt your head in submission to please the alpha. “How about we leave talking to bookworms and losers? I have something better in mind.”

“How about you fuck off you sonofabitch!” Your eyes widen when another Dean steps next to you to shove you behind his back. “That’s my omega!”

“Dean?” You look from the man holding a gun in his hand to the other Dean, the one chasing you around the bunker. 

“I see you liked my face so much you had to copy it,” Dean jokes as he watches the shapeshifter smirk back at him. “Tell me, when did you touch me?”

“It was so easy. A crowded bar, with many people. I brushed past you and, voila, I knew everything about you and that sweet omega waiting to get bred,” the monster replies. “It was so easy to get inside the bunker and knock your brother out.”

“Well, newsflash asshole, this omega is mine,” Dean fires a round at the monster, throwing another one-liner at the shapeshifter as it drops dead to the ground.

“He’ll be alright,” Dean says as you worriedly look at Sam. “I should’ve come home sooner.”

“I should’ve known that you would never—” you sniff. “I ran and left Sam behind. Why did I not realize that this wasn’t you? You would never want me and…”

“Sweetheart, we will talk about this tomorrow,” Dean places his hand on your shoulder. “For tonight, I want you to stay with Sammy while I get rid of the shapeshifter.”

“I…” you nod, even though, you wish you could confront Dean for all the things he said and did.

For tonight, you will stay with Sam and ignore the aching in your chest.

You can’t help but feel sad. At least the monster wanted you. 

>> Love by heart

Tags in reblog.

[coralinnii]

❋ If you are a villain, then let me be your accomplice ❋

feat: Floyd

genre: slow burn romance

note: sequel to reincarnated into a new world as the bad guy AU Floyd ver, no pronouns used for reader, 2k word count

Series masterlist

A new normal has unfortunately assimilated into your life since your incident during that fateful ball. You felt your entire being sink into the pit of your stomach as your brother came running to you when he returned from the party, frantically asking why one of the Leech family sons was asking about you.

“You fell on top of him? And then just ran away?!” You were close to strangling your younger brother for his big mouth, especially when your outraged mother just happened to walk in right at the moment, though you were sure the birds resting in your gardens would have heard your brother’s obnoxious exclamations.

“I can’t believe you didn’t even say sorry, just running away and leaving the poor boy” After scolding your ear off, your mother wrote a letter of apology to the Leech household and to your dismay, invited Floyd to your home so you could personally apologize for your rude behavior. “It’s the least we could do,” your mother said.

Soon, an apology dinner led to a quick tour around your father’s training ground, then eventually there wasn’t a day where you didn’t worry that you’ll see a head of ocean teal hair bursting through your doors, naturally making his way into the guest room like it was made for him, though your mother probably did request the servants to keep that room clean everyday for his arrival anyway.

“Fishie, I’m bored~” You were convinced that Floyd was aware of your wariness of him which was why he intentionally spends his time constantly by your side, poking you and demanding you to entertain him anytime he was bored, which was all the time. He complains when you wouldn’t pay attention to him (eventhough he barged into your classes), drags you to spar with him during your father’s knight training sessions (eventhough you weren’t part of your father’s knight squad), and even naps in your bedroom while waiting for you (eventhough there’s a guest room literally just for him!).

Your wariness soon became frustration as you swore that Floyd was doing this just to get a rise out of you, for you to finally snap and give him a reason to squeeze you. You couldn’t figure it out but you’re starting to realize that the tall intruder only seems happy when you’re mentally suffering from his antics.

What’s worse was that your family doesn’t seem to see this as a concern. Your father was pleased to see potential in Floyd as a fighter and your brother became fascinated with the stories of merfolk and trinkets Floyd brings anytime he visits. The worst was your mother who was happy to have the sharp-toothed man visit them so often, calling him a sweet delight in the home.

“Crazy. They’re all crazy!” Your sanity as thin as silk thread and about as high-strung was tested everyday and it was at its breaking point one day when you had to join him for a night in the town, where a small festival was being held.

“Your dear friend was kind enough to invite you… you should go out more…Don’t be such a slugabed…Why can’t I be a slugabed, mom? Nothing wrong with that” lost in your grumbles, Floyd pulled you around the bustling crowds of the market to various food stalls when he felt an inkling of hunger. You supposed you were glad he was in a good mood for now, beats the alternative.

“Hey Fishie, Check this out!” You looked to see your companion with a satisfied grin on his face. “Look at what I got from the kebab stall!”

A satisfied grin plastered on his face, Floyd held out what you assumed was a meat kebab but the sheer length of it caught you off guard. The impulsive eel persuaded the stall owner to combine the sticks together to create a kebab much longer than intended (or recommended). Adorned with alternating grilled meat and vegetables, Floyd’s kebab stick was more of a kebab sword.

“Oh my goodness” you let out a gasp, wide-eyed at oddity before you. “Is that possible…or safe?” Clearly it was possible with the monstrosity clearly in his hands but your concern was more towards if such a food-covered stick was safe to wave around in a crowded area like this, where someone could accidentally get hit by that thing-

Whack “Hey, what’s the big idea?!”

Why couldn’t you be wrong?

As you feared, Floyd's creative street food managed to swing around and smacked an unsuspecting man in the back of his head. He turned, and your instincts immediately warned you that this man was not the forgiving type of fellow. His scowl seemed to target you, possibly because you seemed to be an easier victim to blame.

“What’s the big idea? A couple of prissy nobles walkin’ around thinkin’ they can do whatever they want?” The ruffled man snarled out in a gruff tone, his friends behind him copying his scowls with furrowed eyebrows and visibly clenched fists. “You better walk away if ya know what’s good for yer.”

But Floyd was not the least bit intimidated by the hostile group and started to scowl back, a dangerous look glazing over his mix-matched eyes. Before you could apologize, the tall merman stepped in front of you, towering over the stranger and blocking your figure from sight. Bystanders whispered and gasped as many started to back away from what looked to be an impending fight.

“Haaa? You minnows tryin’ to pick a fight?” Floyd tilted his head to the side glaring down at the other man, a hand squeezing his shoulder as though to limber up his arm. To you, he seemed like the meaner bully than anyone. “Sure, let’s have some fun then.”

“What’s going on over there?!” You heard another voice bellowing from afar and your worries suddenly shot up. Amongst the crowd, you could see a pair of men in armour making their way towards your direction where the commotion was.

“No. No. No. I don’t want to spend my night getting arrested!” Looking back to Floyd, you saw the wildness in his eyes barely being held back, dead set on starting a fight. You knew there wasn’t a chance to talk Floyd down when he gets this riled up so in a panic, you made a risky move.

Quietly crouching down, you scooped a handful of sand and gravel. With all your mustered courage, you side-stepped from behind your tall friend and threw the debris straight into the ruffian’s eyes, momentarily blinding him. The stranger bellowed with pain as he quickly back again in response.

“AARRGGHH, YOU CRAZY B-“ the blinded man couldn’t finish his sentence as you made the final blow by kicking him further backwards, his friends scrambling to catch him as he groaned in his suffering.

Taking the chance, you quickly grabbed Floyd and rushed away from the scene. Your mind ignored voices cursing you as you recklessly weaved through the crowd away from the knights and the ruffians and towards anywhere that had less of a crowd, your hand tightly holding on to the merman who was strangely quiet, stunned by your impulsive actions. But the ruffians were quick to recover as they started catch their bearings and chase after the two of you, rage fuelled in their motivations.

The chase brought you to a pier by the ocean that was as ink black as the night sky. You could still hear their voices coming closer and soon regret and fear flooded your senses.

“What do I do…what do I do?” You mumbled in panic, with tears lining your eyes. You have completely forgotten that Floyd could feel you shake through your hand still interlocked with his.

Your companion watched you quivering like a scared little seal and hearing angry footsteps approaching, when a fun idea crossed his mind.

“Hey Fishie,” his casual voice finally made you remembered his presence. “We gotta hide, right? I know a place~”

“Wha-“ Without a second to let you ask more, Floyd swiftly picked you up from your shoulders to fling you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes and in one fluid motion, he threw you right into the waters without remorse.

Splash

In your flabbergasted state from the audacity and the sheer ice cold feeling of the water, your frazzled mind didn’t even register Floyd jumping in soon after you until he wrapped his arms around you, clasping your hand over your mouth to stop you from screaming. Floyd was surprisingly comforting with his hold on you as his long arms kept you afloat above the cold waters as he expertly led your body further from the pier where you could faintly hear shouting from afar.

Eventually, the noises quiet down and all there’s left were the waves of the water splashing against your skin. Unfortunately, the darkened sky allowed no light for your eyes to scan your surroundings. You could barely see Floyd very well despite feeling his body close to yours. “Floyd, can you see the pier?”

“Yea, can’t you?” Floyd asked but you shook your head, your eyes couldn’t adjust to your surroundings with almost no light in sight. “Too dark, huh? Hmmm, close your eyes for a second, will ya? I’m gonna do somethin’”

Though skeptical, you did as he asked. Minutes went by and before the fear that the ocean-haired man might had left you, a luminous glow nearly permeated through your eyelids. You could tell there was bright beacon of light close to you but there strangely wasn’t a sense of heat from the source.

“…Alright, open ‘em”

Floyd watched intently as you opened your eyes and saw something purely inhuman. The once tall man was no longer in his human form but instead his long eel-like body was wrapped around you which glowed a shimmering blue light from his bioluminescence. This was the first time you’ve him in his most natural form.

Floyd waited silently for a reaction from you, an unreadable look in his gold and brown eyes. With his natural glow, nothing was hidden from you. You could see his sharp claws protruding from his large webbed hands, his dotted blue skin coated with slime, and his large monstrous tail in lieu of those human legs he acquired. All land-dwellers do is gawk and shriek at whatever is unnatural to them and he suspected you’d be the same, just like all the boring humans…

“Floyd, you’re beautiful!”

You couldn’t help but marvel at the sight before you. Your old life fantasized and told tales of merpeople but would never come to see such a visionary sight like this. Even after finding yourself in this new world, many mermaids and mermen had to hide themselves from anti-merfolk humans on land so you still haven’t had the chance to meet them in such a natural form…Until now.

“Wow, you’re glowing from your chest to your tail…” your eyes sparkled with child-like wonder as you watched the light from Floyd’s body shimmer in the waters, reminding you almost like the waves of light of an aurora in the sky. Your fingers curiously grazed the surface of Floyd’s tail which felt cool and smooth to the touch, most likely due to the natural secretion of his skin to keep him hydrated. You reached back to his clawed fingers which you swore looked bigger than those of his human form, bigger than yours at least, which made you ponder if merfolks varied in sizes as well. “This feels like a dream”

“…Hehe, how long are you gonna touch me, Fishie~?” Floyd’s little tease snapped you out of your daze as he grinned down at you. His tone sounded accusatory but his sly grin spoke volume of his amusement over your fascination with his body.

Quickly, you let go of his webbed fingers. “I-I’m sorry, Floyd. I was just surprised. I’ve never seen a merman’s body before and-and” you stammered and splashed around but not even the ice cold waters could cool the sensation in your cheeks. You felt the burn of embarrassment just thinking how Floyd was watching you fawn over his body like a reckless pervert.

Distracted by your shame, Floyd took the opportunity to hold you tighter than before, his glowing body coiling around your legs and letting you feel his firm muscles as you felt forced to sit atop of his tail. Gently, the merman cradled your head as he smiled a toothy grin at you, seemingly happier than you’ve seen him all day, though you couldn’t figure out why.

“My Fishie never disappoints~ It’s always so fun when I’m around you, I can’t get enough!” Floyd surprised you by pressing his cheek to yours, nuzzling against your skin as he hummed in a satisfied tone. Seriously, what’s gotten him in such a good mood?

“Wait, don’t think I’d forgive you for throwing me into the water!”

[thebiggerbear]

So Close

Summary: You meet Colter and Russell at the morgue to help them gain access. Had you known how this was really going to go, you might have pushed Colter's call to voicemail.

Pairing: Russell Shaw x Female!Reader; Russell Shaw x FBI!Female!Reader

A/N: I have zero idea what this is. My muse demanded I type this out after watching the morgue sneak peek scene and at this point, I'm giving her whatever she wants. I have never seen this show, know nothing about the characters and any relationships they may have or their background stories, only vaguely know what the premise is, and I'm waiting to see the episode like everyone else. And yet, the muse still put me to work. She can be so brutal sometimes.

I wouldn't call this speculation for 1x12 because I have no idea what's happened before it yet. Unbeta'd so all mistakes are mine. Full text in italics is dialogue from the morgue scene.

Warnings: mention of dead body; angst

Word Count: 2096

Sequel | Series (please let me know if you would like to be tagged in the series or any future Russell or Tracker works)

Taglist: @avada-kedavra-bitch-187; @rieleatiel

Jensen Taglist: @samanddeaninatrenchcoat

You can also read on AO3

You met Colter and Russell Shaw at the morgue, telling them that you were only doing this one small favor and that was it and only for Colter. Colter, as always, understood. Russell, not so much.

The older man turned to look at his younger brother. “I thought you said she’d be a big help to us on this one.”

Before Colter could answer, you narrowed your eyes in Russell’s direction. “I’m putting my job at risk helping you,” you snapped.

And still just as infuriating as ever, he gave you a smile, that teasing gleam in his eye. “It’s good to see you again, Y/N. You are looking…” He worked his fingers into the all-too familiar gesture of approval, giving you a glance over. 

“Go to hell, Shaw.” You spun on your heel and started marching towards the building. “Let’s go,” you barked. “We’re on a timeclock.” 

You never looked back to see if they were following you but you heard Colter mutter not too far behind you, “You mind not pissing her off until after we get to see the body?” 

“Yeah,” Russell quietly agreed, sounding far more serious than he had a moment ago. As a matter of fact, he sounded a little down, which made you wonder what was really going on. You already knew of the strain between the brothers so them working together was odd in itself but Colter hadn’t given you details when he called you and you hadn’t asked for them. You hoped this case they were working had nothing to do with anyone who Russell might… You forced away the thought and renewed your focus on the task at hand. You weren’t here for anything pertaining to that. You needed to keep your mind clear, and your eyes and ears open. 

Once you were all inside, you noticed an older woman sitting at the reception desk. You were about to walk in and pull your badge, ready to lie your ass off and give your official spiel when Russell held a hand up. “I got this,” he assured you both, before waltzing right in. You and Colter exchanged a look before following him.

The woman glanced up briefly and saw you all approaching before going back to her computer. “What can I help you with?”

“Hi, um…” Russell glanced down at her nametag as Colter moved to stand next to his brother, sporting a small smile. “Yolanda. Well, that is—that’s a beautiful name.” You slowly shook your head and crossed your arms. He was seriously going to try to charm his way in? Well, this ought to be fun to watch.

You weren’t surprised when she barely spared him a glance before going back to typing.

And of course, that didn’t deter him one bit. “Sadly, we, uh, we heard about Len Claimans. Recently deceased and, uh, we just need to see the body.”

That caught the woman’s attention as you expected it would. She immediately turned to face him and slipped her eye glasses onto her head. “What for?”

“How do you like working here?” You nearly smirked at the increased pitch in Russell’s voice, betraying his attempt at bullshitting and also a small case of nerves. It was almost as if he’d never lied before. Funny that. 

From Colter’s expression as he watched this trainwreck up close, he had to be thinking along the same lines as you, but more so wondering why this was even being attempted with you standing right there.

“Huh?” Russell continued. “I get a good vibe from you, you know. Kind eyes — helpful eyes, I like that.” You bit your lip to keep from saying something you shouldn’t. Russell had never been what you would call a good flirt, but he certainly was dialing up the charm to try to compensate. 

Too bad the charm didn’t seem to be working. Yolanda’s eyes immediately transferred to Colter. “What’s he talking about?”

Colter shook his head and turned to look at her. “The body might be connected to the disappearance of another man,” he explained. You noticed Russell glancing back at you out of the corner of his eye and you arched an inquisitive brow in his direction which made him immediately focus on Yolanda again, nodding along as his brother talked.

“Oh.” Yolanda looked regretful for a moment before going back to her computer. “I’m sorry, but unless you’re family, I can’t let you back there.”

Knowing this was the point Colter needed your intercession, you began to step forward but immediately froze when Russell snapped his fingers and spoke up. “I didn’t mention.” He gestured between him and Colter, giving Yolanda a smug grin, almost as if he had finally found the ruse that would work. “Cousins.” 

If you could have facepalmed right there without anyone seeing you, you would have. Wow. How was he so bad at this? And why didn’t he just let you do the talking? Or his brother for that matter?

Yolanda huffed out a breath of impatience. She was clearly done with this conversation and quite frankly, so were you.

Russell suddenly leaned forward. “We just-we just need a minute. Or two, you know? I promise we won’t disrupt a thing and then afterwards, maybe, uh, go grab a drink or, uh, somethin’ somethin’.” This time, you did briefly cover your face with your hand. This was just beyond embarrassing. Why did you agree to help these two again?

You could not believe what you were hearing and neither could Colter. You watched as he stared at his older brother before he decided to give it one last ditch effort and played along, turning a strained smile onto the woman.

And as expected, Yolanda finally reached her limit. “No. Sorry.” She got up from her chair and walked away.

Russell let out a disappointed breath. “That was so close.”

“No,” Colter rightfully disagreed.

You’d now reached your limit as well. Stepping forward, you loudly cleared your throat and came to a stop next to Russell. Yolanda turned to look at you, wondering what was coming next from the circus act that had apparently decided to roll into her office this afternoon. You gave her your best professional smile. “Hi there. I’m Special Agent Y/L/N with the FBI.” You slipped out your badge and held it up for her to see before putting it back into your pocket. “My associates here are correct. We’re currently investigating a missing persons case that may be connected to Mr. Claimans’ death. I’m going to need to take a look at the body as well as the autopsy report.”

Yolanda, clearly not believing anything you were selling today, stared over at you, unimpressed. “Do you have a warrant?”

“I can have one sent over to you in the next hour,” you lied. “But right now, we’re on a bit of a timeclock as I’m sure you can imagine.”

She glanced between you three, thinking it over. Russell and Colter looked back and forth between you two.

“Let me see that badge again.”

You grabbed it and handed it to her as she walked over. She studied it and then gave it back to you after a moment. “Ten minutes,” she decided. Both of you ignored Russell’s little smack to the counter and triumphant grin mixed with a quiet “I knew I liked you” in Yolanda’s direction. 

She looked bored. “That’s all I can give you.”

You gave her a nod of gratitude. “That’ll be plenty. Thank you.” 

She nodded and passed next to you to lead the way. You glanced in Colter’s direction and he nodded his thanks. Russell turned to you, his grin all but gone now, the serious tone from before back. “Thank you,” he murmured.

“Sure.” He gave you the beginnings of a grateful smile, his gaze never leaving yours. You could feel yourself being sucked in, almost as if there was a strong magnetic force trying to pull you back in. There was so much going on behind those eyes that looked almost as if they were pleading with you for something — something that you weren’t entirely sure you were ready to give. You were still putting yourself back together, trying to repair the damage that his chaotic whirlwind had caused.

Colter quietly cleared his throat and it shattered the moment, and for that you were grateful. Especially when you noticed Russell had been discreetly moving closer to you. You moved away a bit, making Russell’s jaw tighten and his eyes harden, and started after Yolanda. “We should go,” you told Colter, happy to look upon him once again while you regained your bearings. “We’ve only got ten minutes and I really don’t need an ass chewing from my supervisor because your brother has no game.” 

Colter smirked and followed after you. Russell’s jaw dropped and he appeared alongside you once more, keeping pace with you. “I have game!”

“No, you don’t,” you snorted, keeping your eyes straight ahead, unwilling to look at him.

“Yes, I do. It worked on you once upon a time, didn’t it?”

You leveled a menacing glare on him before turning to look at Colter on your other side. “Why did you ask me to help you again?”

Colter pressed his lips together and decided to keep quiet, focusing on waiting for Yolanda to open the door to the morgue. “I appreciate everything you’re doing.”

Russell leaned closer and murmured to you, “I do, too. And Y/N, after we get out of here, why don’t we go grab that drink I talked about? Just you and me? We can talk and catch up.” You turned your wide eyes onto him. Was he serious? He shot you a charming grin but you could also see the tiny gleam of hope in his gaze.

You ignored the familiar scent of his cologne as it wafted over you and you tamped down the painful memories it induced.

Colter looked like he would rather be anywhere else right then. You wished you were anywhere else right then. You turned your eyes forward, refusing to look at him anymore, not wanting to see any part of his reaction to what you were about to say. “You’re both on a timeclock, remember?” You asked quietly. “After we get what we need, you should go to the spot that's next on your list or immediately chase down any leads. As for me, I have to get back to work.”  You then surged ahead, standing right behind Yolanda and stepping into the room when she opened the door.

After a moment, you heard the brothers enter behind you and Colter muttered to Russell, “You good?”

“Yeah.” You nearly closed your eyes hearing that tone that you were starting to hate once more. “So close.” This time, when he echoed the words from before, there was no false bravado attached to them, no playfulness or humor, only what you detected as regret. 

This time, Colter didn’t say anything in response. Both brothers joined you and you all watched as Yolanda selected a drawer and slid it out. Feeling Russell next to you, you swore to yourself that this would be the last time you would take a call from Colter for a long time. While you liked the younger Shaw, it was the older Shaw you didn’t want to chance running into ever again. 

You stared ahead as Yolanda unzipped the body bag, tensing as you felt the sleeve of Russell’s jacket unintentionally brush against you. So close? Too close.

Out of the corner of your eye, you caught Russell watching you intently, his expression serious and that regretful look in his eyes once more. You forced your gaze back to the woman reminding you of your ten minute window, refusing to allow any sympathy for the older man on your left. You hadn’t been the one to ruin things between you; you’d only been left to pick up the pieces. You were done feeling sorry for Russell Shaw. 

You took the report Yolanda offered to you before she left and began flipping through it, skimming the text, as Colter took a closer look at the body. From your peripherals, Russell stared at you a moment longer and then moved to stand next to his brother, their backs to you. Sadly, a familiar sight of the man you’d once loved. You blinked away rapidly forming tears and went back to reading.

As much as you hated to admit it, Russell had been right. So close indeed.

dividers by @firefly-graphics

[theladycarpathia]

Happiness, love, cohabitation (Clipboards and couches notwithstanding)

a.k.a. Tommy's still smitten by Clipboard Buck. (sequel to To Do List: Me (Buck's Tasklist)

“I hope you’re ready for this,” Eddie says under his breath, just as the moving truck pulls in.

“Ready for what?” Tommy asks, shielding his eyes against the sun. “Happiness? Love? Cohabitation?”

Eddie just gives him a look. Perhaps there’s a reason that he’s the only person from the 118 that volunteered to help today. Hen and Howie were conveniently otherwise engaged. Cowards.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about,” he says darkly, nodding at the gleam of Buck’s truck down the road. It sounds ridiculous but Tommy’s stomach still dips a little at the mere suggestion of Buck.

“Evan’s moving in today,” Tommy says, choosing to ignore every single thinly veiled, ominous word out of Eddie’s mouth. “I swear to you, I have no idea.”

“Yes, you do,” Eddie says, as Buck pulls in, the flatbed still somehow piled high despite the large truck filled with Buck’s belongings. It hadn’t made a lot of sense for Tommy to move into Buck’s loft so it had been an easy decision. Tommy lives close enough to the 118 that it’s not that much more of a commute for Buck. “But you’re being a dick about it.”

“I told you,” Tommy says easily, as Buck climbs out, balancing a box on his knee as he shuts the door. “I’m happy.” Eddie just shakes his head.

“We’ll see how long that lasts,” he promises, as Buck bounds over.

“Hi,” Tommy says and Buck beams back, beautiful and soft.

“Hi,” Buck returns, almost looking uncertain. Tommy’s had to face a few wobbly moments in the past few weeks. But he gathers that the past few times Buck’s moved in with someone it hasn’t gone very well.

“It’s not until Eddie pointedly clears his throat that Tommy realizes they’re just standing in the drive, with the removal men waiting patiently.

“Sorry we were a bit late,” Buck apologizes, looking as flustered as Tommy feels. They’re still in the ‘honeymoon stage’ as Hen likes to quip. Which is bull, because Tommy knows that when it’s the right person that it never just goes away. Hen and Karen for starters, are not exempt. “There was some trouble getting the furniture down the stairwell. I don’t remember it being so difficult to move in…”

“That’s because it was flat packed, Buck,” Eddie says and rolls his shoulders. “Where do we start?”

And then - alright, so Tommy had been expecting it, he had - Buck reaches into the cardboard box and pulls out a clipboard.

The look that Eddie gives him is very nearly worth it.

“I fucking told you,” Eddie says, tipping back the bottle of water until it’s empty. “God, I just knew it.”

“So you did,” Tommy says and Eddie crumples up the bottle.

“Are you telling me that you don’t see it?” he demands, tossing the bottle towards the recycling. “Are you seriously telling me that Clipboard Buck is just…Buck to you?”

Tommy’s been hearing about Clipboard Buck for nearly as long as he’s been dating Buck. Like Maurice, the jinx and the heist, it’s one of those things that seems to just pass into the 118 lore. Clipboard Buck is like a unicorn that occasionally appears before vanishing once more. If unicorns wore frowns and clicked their pens if you forgot to follow his exacting instructions.

The thing is that Tommy doesn’t mind. Everyone has their quirks. Howard smacks his gum, Hen frequently forgets to turn off her mothering, Eddie veers to the over dramatic. It’s just one of those things you learn to live with for someone you love.

“It’s endearing,” he says defensively, while Eddie snorts. “Besides, you just have to know how to use it.”

Eddie pauses, mouth open, before he wrinkles his nose. It didn’t take him long to think of the implications.

To be fair, it hadn’t taken Tommy all that long either the first time he’d seen Buck with a clipboard.

“Actually,” Eddie says, grabbing a few new bottles of water from the fridge. “I really don’t want to know.”

“Want to know what?” Buck asks, appearing in the doorway. It’s been hard work - it’s a beautifully sunny Los Angeles day and even with Buck’s loft, there’s still an astounding amount of stuff that needs to be moved in and arranged. Tommy’s - now theirs - bedroom has a significant pile of boxes lined up against the far wall.

Absolutely nothing obstructing the bed. Tommy had been very clear about that.

“What you do with that clipboard,” Eddie says bluntly and ducks out. Tommy reaches out to grab hold of Buck’s waist and pull him closer, deftly removing the clipboard from his grasp.

“This isn’t unpacking,” Buck says against Tommy’s bottom lip. Tommy slides a hand down the curve of Buck’s rear and isn’t surprised that Buck doesn’t take a whole lot of persuading to lean in. They’re pressed together, chests down to knees, and Tommy is pretty sure that Eddie handing out water to the removal guys can at least buy them a few minutes.

“We deserve a break,” Tommy insists and kisses him.

And yeah, a break turns into a few minutes of making out like horny teenagers against the kitchen island but sometimes you take what you have to to get through the day.

“This is going to make it very difficult to move the bookcase,” Buck sighs, letting Tommy kiss along his jaw.

“How’s the list?” Tommy asks, because that’s another, unforeseen advantage of Buck’s clipboard. Aside from the very memorable occasions where Buck writes out every awesomely filthy want in his head (to be ticked off meticulously) it also gives them an end goal for when everyone else goes home.

“Getting there,” Buck says, sliding a hand around Tommy’s neck. “A few more boxes, some bigger items. Are you sure all this stuff is going to fit?” Tommy shrugs. He hadn’t worried about it too much. He’s got the space and they’re both off tomorrow. Tonight they can christen the bed and unpack Buck’s essentials and tomorrow they can make a start on combining their lives.

“We’ll manage,” Tommy soothes. He can hear noises outside and they don’t have long but he wants to keep Buck here for just a moment longer. He smells faintly of sweat and lemon shower gel and Tommy wants to just keep breathing it in.

But when they emerge from the kitchen - the back of Buck’s hair rather obviously ruffled - they encounter an obstacle in the living room. Literally.

“We’ll have to shift that,” Tommy notes, because there’s not quite enough space for his couch, Buck’s couch, and the armchair. “It’s not exactly going to…Buck?”

Because Buck is staring, wide-eyed at the collection of furniture currently crowding Tommy’s front room.

“You have a couch,” Buck says and Tommy blinks.

“Yes,” he says. “Most people do.”

“I have a couch,” Buck says and Tommy is completely lost. He’s learned a lot of things about Buck by now - the jealousy (the incident with Sal was a good indicator,) the insecurities, the abandonment issues, and the obvious Clipboard Tyrant tendencies. Not one of them has been a deal breaker, despite Buck’s concerns.

But this is new.

“Still not seeing the problem here, Evan,” Tommy says. Eddie passes by the open doorway, hands now empty of water bottles. He sticks his head through, and briefly makes a confused face at Tommy behind Buck’s back.

“My previous couches came with girlfriends,” Buck explains and Eddie hurriedly disappears again.

“Did this couch come with a girlfriend?” Tommy asks, eying the blue three-seater that’s been wedged up against the wall.

“Look, I never had a couch because I lived in a frat house and then with Abby. And then couch one was chosen by Ali, who left me. Couch two had to go when Taylor moved in and then she moved out and I didn’t have a couch. And then my mom bought me a couch but Cameron had her baby on it and Couch four had to go to Goodwill because it was chosen by Natalia the Death Doula.”

“I see,” Tommy says, although he really doesn’t. But there’s not a lot of point in trying to decipher Buck when he babbles like this. “So. You bought this couch. By yourself?”

“No girlfriends,” Buck says and gestures to the couch in question. “Statistically, I don’t have the best luck with couches. Or girlfriends. If I get rid of this couch, I’m starting the cycle all over again. I know Hen told me to stop counting but if I buckle on this it’s very not Buck 5.0.”

Not one word of that made sense to Tommy. But he knows when Buck is spiraling and for some reason right now, Buck is spiraling.

“Evan,” Tommy says and rests his hands on either side of Buck’s face. He strokes his thumbs over Buck’s cheeks until he stops talking. “It’s fine. We can keep your couch. Mine can go downstairs or we can move the armchair. You don’t need to get rid of it.”

“I don’t?” Buck asks, looking dumbfounded.

“No,” Tommy says firmly. He still doesn’t quite understand it but the thing is that he doesn’t need to to soothe Buck. Buck’s worried about something and he can fix it. That’s all there is. “We’ll sort it out tomorrow. Your couch looks nice up here.”

“Okay,” Buck mumbles and then slumps against Tommy. “Thanks.”

“Of course,” Tommy says and presses a kiss against the port-wine stain of Buck’s birthmark.

They stay like that for a while, wrapped around each other, Buck tucking his head in the curve of Tommy’s neck.

“I knew there might be complications moving in together, I just didn’t expect something like that,” Tommy says frankly when Buck finally lifts his head up.

“I’ll explain later,” Buck says, looking a little sheepish now that the moment of panic is over. “We should get the rest of the stuff in. Where’s Eddie?”

“Run away like a chicken,” Tommy says. “Does he know about the couch theory?”

“He knows,” Buck says darkly. Okay, maybe this is another part of the 118 lore - and Tommy needs to remember to ask later about the Buck labeling system. What was Buck 1.0? Does he even want to know?

When they emerge out into the sunshine again, the removal men and Eddie are sitting on the grass out front, drinking water.

“All good?” Eddie asks and Buck offers him a hand.

“Good,” he says, pulling Eddie up. “Are we nearly done?”

“You tell me,” Eddie says, putting his hands on his hips and looking at Tommy. It’s very much saying ‘You asked for this.’

But all Tommy can think as Buck hurries back inside for his clipboard is that yes, he absolutely did.

[seigephoenix]

Frustration

In my headcanon, the Lighthouse totally has a bathroom/bathhouse/bathing chamber. The group needs somewhere to wash all the blight gunk off.

Now has a sequel: Fulfillment

Ship: Senna Thorn (Rook)/Davrin Content Warning: maybe mild spoilers for Veilguard, NSFW, teasing, fingering, frustration Length: 1.1k

Senna groaned stepping through the eluvian to the Lighthouse.  Hossberg had been a nightmare, as usual, but she felt a little more optimism about Lavendel.  Squelching sounds followed her up the steps and she sent a silent apology to the Caretaker for the mess while pulling off her boots and leaving them by the side of the walkway leading to the eluvian.  Senna walked with her legs apart, waddling up to the bathing room.  She’d talked the Caretaker into helping her craft one and had never regretted it once.

Her armor hit the ground heavily, almost like it was sighing in relief.  Senna knew she was relieved to have it off her.  The steam from the pools was heaven after being in Hossberg.  She threw her hair up in a messy topknot and slipped down until the water was over her shoulders.  Every ache melted away; all the worries floated along the water away from her mind.  She leaned her head back against the cool stone, closing her eyes to enjoy the peaceful bath.  Senna knew she could fall asleep if she let herself, the room was heaven.

Until she heard the sound of claws scrabbling against stone, and happy squawks bouncing off the walls.  “Assan!”  Senna sighed and ducked under the water right as Assan sailed right over her head, headfirst into the water.  She popped up right between his feet, tilting her head back to grin as Assan played happily in the water.  “I tried to stop him.”

“Oh, I’m sure you did.” Senna grinned as she saw his eyes darting down to where the water lapped at her breasts before going back up to where Assan currently splashed a tidal wave at them.  Senna laughed as Assan came over to where she was.  “Assan!”  She hugged the soaking wet griffon, grinning when he nuzzled against the side of her head.

“Assan, get out of there.  Let Senna have her bath alone,” Davrin demanded.  Assan squawked in protest and rested his head on her shoulder while giving Davrin pleading eyes.  “I’m not weak to those eyes Assan.  Come on.”

“Why don’t you join us?” Senna asked as she kept Assan between them, hiding from his gaze.  Assan’s wings flapped spraying water everywhere.  Senna let out a shriek of laughter before doubling over when she looked at Davrin.  He was soaked.  “Well, you may as well join us now.”  Senna grinned as Assan squawked happily.

“Well, if you just wanted to get me naked.  All you had to do was say so.”  Senna grinned and kept her gaze averted as he stripped.  Assan was there and she was going to behave in front of the child.  Assan swam over to Davrin, his wings beating against his back in his struggle to get where he was going.  “Assan, this is why I said no swimming yet.  You haven’t even mastered flying.”  Davrin pushed Assan over to the edge, giving the griffon a boost to get out.  Senna helped by lifting on her side squealing when Assan shook.  Water sprayed everywhere; she covered her face to keep the worst of it away from her.

Senna’s heart jumped when his arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her back against him.  He was so broad and surrounded her.  Senna ignored the aching throb beating between her legs when his hand rested against her stomach, holding her against him.  “I caught you,” he whispered with his teeth nipping at her earlobe.  Her lips parted in a soft moan, leaning back against him.  Her own arms reached up, wrapping around his neck.  She rocked her hips back against him, savoring his reaction against her.  His nails scratched her stomach, dragging down until they were just above her aching clit.

“You know you’re evil for that.”  Senna moaned when his hand dipped down between her legs and his other covered her mouth.  His thumb rubbed against her, teasing that sensitive bud with slow, tight circles.  His heavy breathing filled her senses with each muffled moan that spilled from her lips.  Her fingers dug into his arms as the heat throbbed in her body.  She leaned into him with each languid stroke of his thumb against her.  She pulled his hand away from her mouth and glared up at him with teary eyes.

“And you call me evil,” she hissed while he smiled down at her.  The smile that held a dangerous secret and made her want to know more.  Senna tightened her jaw when two fingers slid inside her, she groaned when her body clenched around him.  “Davrin.” Senna was right there, so close to the edge.  She could taste it, craved it.  She pulled him down to her, moaning when their lips met in a heated crash.  Her body coiled tight, squeezing down on his fingers as she reached for that pinnacle.

“Assan?  What are you doing here?” Senna wanted to scream in frustration as she heard that voice.  She loved all her friends, she did, but they had the absolute worst timing.  Davrin pulled away from her reluctantly, she sensed the frustration in him as well.  A perfect match for her own.  He pulled himself out of the water and her mouth went dry as the water sluiced off his body.  She groaned as she was keenly aware of what was walking away from her.  And she’d have to be satisfied with her own hand, again.

Davrin pulled on his pants, keeping his back to Senna.  He didn’t see her punch the water out of anger, but he heard it and wanted to smile in amusement.  If his own body wasn’t screaming at him for walking away from her, but he didn’t want anyone else to see her naked.  Selfish but he’d never claimed otherwise.  Davrin walked out to intercept Emmrich before he got into the main bathing chamber.  He turned before walking through the doorway and saw her standing there.  The water lapped at her hips, her breasts swaying with every ragged breath out of her lips, and the heat still in her eyes.  He ran a hand over his face as it took everything in him to turn and walk away.

“Oh Davrin.  I thought I’d see you here with Assan.”

“Yeah, I wanted to give Assan a bath, turns out he gave me one instead.  Bathroom’s occupied right now though.  Rook went in,” he said jerking his thumb over his shoulder.

“Ah, I shan’t disturb her bath.  Bellara was just telling me about their adventure in the Hossberg wetlands.  A good soak afterwards is just the ticket.”  Emmrich walked with Davrin and Assan out of the bathroom.  Davrin choked down his own frustration as he walked with the necromancer out of the chambers. 

[ginnsbaker]

loving an avenger

Summary: The last installment from the Dentist AU, sequel to it's just dinner;

Vision tilts his head slightly, a gesture you've come to recognize as him deep in thought. “If that's a prerequisite for you,” he states presumptuously, like the answer to your prerogative is so startlingly obvious yet you failed to catch them. “Then may I suggest you sleep with her and then ask her to marry you?”

Word count: 3.2k | Tags: Fluff, Marriage Proposals gone wrong , 'Efficent' is Wanda's middle name according to her

Ship: Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader

Author's note: And that concludes our Dentist AU! All fluff, no tears.

Series Masterlist | Masterlist

Wanda Maximoff is your girlfriend.

Wanda Maximoff is your girlfriend.

No matter how many times you repeat it to yourself, you’re never going to get used to the fact that Wanda Maximoff is your girlfriend.

And dating this particular Avenger is both your greatest source of comfort and anxiety.

On the days when it's peaceful, when the weight of the world isn't pressing down on either of you, the indescribable comfort comes from the simplicity of your relationship with Wanda. Those are the days when her protector-of-the-world persona fades into the background, and you get to be with simply Wanda, the woman.

Grocery shopping, for instance, becomes something you look forward to on weekends. Walking down the aisles, hand in hand, you spend more time discussing the virtues of one brand of pasta over another, or debating whether to indulge in a tub of ice cream, than any imminent world threat. Sometimes, Wanda playfully levitates a grape or two, making them dance in the air before popping them into your mouth, her laughter ringing in the quiet corners of the store.

Strolls in the park are as romantic as the candlelight dinners you frequently organize at various fine dining spots in the city, especially after learning that Wanda rarely goes out. You both love laying down on the grass, feeling the sun warming your skin, and the world around fades as you listen to her recount stories from Sokovia, her voice soft and nostalgic. Some days, you carry a little music player, and with wired earbuds shared between the two of you.

And then there are the quiet afternoons at home. The beautiful monotony of those moments is the real magic. With you engrossed in a book and Wanda laughing at sitcom reruns, or the two of you attempting to bake. Baking sessions usually end with more flour on both of you than in the bowl, dough fights, and running around the kitchen before tackling Wanda onto your bed and kissing her silly. Even if the cookies turn out a bit burnt, the warmth is always just right.

On the flip side, when the world demands its due from her, it's pure torment. The darker undertones of dating an Avenger are impossible to ignore. An ever-present undercurrent of anxiety runs deep within you. The unpredictability of her life means that any moment could be the last time you see her smile, hear her laugh, or feel her touch.

The agony of days, sometimes even weeks, without contact from her is torture. Every second feels like an hour, every hour like a day. The silence, the not knowing, is the worst part. Is she okay? Is she hurt? Each time the news reports another battle or threat, your heart clenches, waiting for a hint that she is alright. But more often than not, there's no word, no sign. Just the excruciating wait.

And then there are the times she returns, not as the invincible hero, but as a wounded Wanda. A cut on her lips, a gash across her forehead, or bruises marring her porcelain skin. You often nurse her wounds, fighting back tears and the urge to plead with her to stay, to give it all up.

One evening, in a moment of weakness and sheer fear, you do suggest it.

“Why can't you just leave it all behind? There are other, stronger heroes who can step in,” you murmur to her, both of you teetering on the edge of sleep.

“I caused so much darkness for a long time,” she says, her fingers coming up to trace your cheek and ease the creases on your forehead. “I need to pay my dues. I need to make things right.”

You find it hard to believe, considering the Wanda you know is nothing but a beacon of light. The thought of her having a dark past seems so distant, so unfathomable. Yet, her commitment to redemption is undeniable.

“Until when?” you ask softly, eyes locked onto hers, searching for answers. “When will it be enough?”

Wanda hesitates, her gaze drifting to the ceiling, as if searching for the answers there. “I don't know,” she whispers. “But every day, I try to be better than I was the day before, hoping that one day the scales will balance.”

You turn to face her fully, wrapping an arm around her waist. “Wanda, you've done so much good. You've helped countless people. At some point, you need to forgive yourself too.”

She chuckles lightly, the corners of her mouth turning up. “You know, sometimes I think that maybe it won't be for too long.”

You raise an eyebrow, intrigued, “Oh? And why's that?”

“Because,” she begins, her fingers playfully tracing patterns on your arm, “If I have you by my side, maybe I'm doing something right. I like to think of you as my little reward for turning things around.”

You can't help but laugh at that, pressing a gentle kiss on her forehead. “Your 'little' reward? Are you calling me short?”

“Maybe. Or maybe I'm just saying that for all the vastness of the universe, it's the small, unexpected joys that matter the most.”

“Well, in that case,” you grin, your heart swelling in your chest, “I'm honored to be your 'little' joy.”

It always ends up like this. She sneaks in a flirty comment during your serious talks, and somehow, just for a moment, you forget about the worries that'll come back later.

But this is also how you eventually realize that you love her.

No matter what she chooses to do, you swear—even if it kills you, even if it disrupts your peace and turns your world upside down—you'll never leave her side unless she asks you to.

-

Within a week, you're back at the Avengers compound, not to visit Wanda, but to meet with a different Avenger.

Vision.

Wanda is on a small mission with Natasha, and you specifically timed your visit so that she wouldn't be around. You've come with a purpose, one that you're unsure of how it'll be received. 

Finding Vision is no easy task, but after inquiring discreetly, you're directed to a chamber that seems more like a serene meditation space than a room in a superhero compound.

“Vision?” you call out tentatively as you step into the dimly lit room. The chill in the air is so intense it feels like walking into a server room, almost expecting to find rows of computers thrumming in the cold. Instinctively, you pull your doctor's coat tighter around your body.

Vision appears almost instantly. “How may I assist you?”

You exhale slowly, rubbing the back of your neck. “Okay, this is going to sound weird, but... I need some advice about Wanda.” It feels a bit ridiculous as the thought crosses your mind—asking a synthezoid about relationship matters. But he's close to Wanda, and honestly, you're at a loss for who else to ask.

Vision's gaze sharpens a touch, “Go on.”

“I love her,” the words tumble out before you can rein them in. “Every time she's out on a mission, I'm a wreck. I'm always scared something might happen to her. I wish she'd... I don't know, think about retiring? Or at least find some way to be safer. But I have no idea how to even bring it up.”

Vision remains silent for a beat, then replies, “It's not uncommon for those close to Avengers to feel this way. But Wanda's commitment to this role is profound. Asking her to retire would be  asking her to change a fundamental part of who she is.”

“But what about her safety?” you press on rather desperately.

Vision takes a moment, as if deliberating if the term ‘safety’ should even apply to the likes of them, before saying, “In our line of work, there are no certainties. Every mission, every decision carries inherent risks. It's a reality we've all accepted. It's the price of our commitment to a greater good.”

You nod defeatedly. Maybe you were hoping for a different answer. But like the rest, he too prioritizes the greater good above himself. 

“I just wish there was something more I could do,” you say.

Vision steps closer, placing a hand on your shoulder in a gesture that's surprisingly comforting coming from a synthetic being. You’re beginning to understand why Wanda considers him her best friend. 

“Your presence in her life, the love you offer, it's more than you realize. Hold onto that,” he says. Then, he looks at you with an unexpected sparkle in his surprisingly soulful eyes. “Have you considered making a lifelong commitment to Wanda?”

You gulp, taken aback. “You mean... marriage?”

The suggestion from Vision was so unexpected, so left-field. But thinking about it, there were times—like when you'd make Wanda laugh and her nose would scrunch up all cute—where the idea did, fleetingly, cross your mind.

(You’re so embarrassed to admit it, but it’s just how your brain works around Wanda Maximoff.)

“Yes,” Vision nods. “Sometimes, offering stability and a promise of forever can provide an emotional security that transcends physical safety.”

For a moment, it strikes you—for someone who isn't even human, he sure has a knack for relationship advice. What Vision is suggesting does make sense: If you can't keep her safe, you'll keep her happy. Sometimes that's the only thing you can do. 

But there’s just one problem.

“Uhm, I don’t know how to say this, but…we haven't even... I mean, we're taking things slow,” you stumble over your words, your cheeks burning at the thought of being with Wanda that way. It's also not the sort of detail you’d anticipated sharing with Vision, of all beings, but it's out now.

Vision tilts his head slightly, a gesture you've come to recognize as him deep in thought. “If that's a prerequisite for you,” he states presumptuously, like the answer to your prerogative is so startlingly obvious yet you failed to catch them. “Then may I suggest you sleep with her and then ask her to marry you?”

Your jaw drops slightly, and you blink a few times, attempting to find words. “Vision, that's...easier said than done,” you manage to say, your voice faltering a bit towards the end. You quickly clear your throat, wondering if the temperature in the room could drop any further, because despite the chill, you're suddenly feeling quite warm in your civilian clothes.

“What do you mean by ‘easier said than done’?” Vision asks, rubbing his chin, no doubt a conscious effort to display his human side. “Do you need me to teach you how to—”

“No!” you blurt out, hands shooting up in a frantic 'stop right there' motion. Your mind races with the myriad of things Vision might've been about to suggest. “I've got a pretty good grasp on...human basics, thanks.” 

“Ah. Noted. I simply meant to offer guidance in whatever form you might need. Perhaps I could download a helpful guide or recommend books?” he asks.

You snort, the image of Vision giving sex education a new meaning now firmly planted in your mind. “No, thanks. I think I'll stick to the old-fashioned way of figuring things out. You know, trial and error, preferably without any downloadable guides.”

He nods, making an exaggerated display of understanding, “Ah, the human way of fumbling through experiences. Intriguing. And very inefficient.”

“Well, humans fumbled their way through evolution, so…”

“An interesting perspective. Still, if ever you need a recommended reading list…”

“No reading lists,” you say with a grin. “Just... help keep her safe. That's all the help I need from you.”

Vision’s lips curl into a slight smile. “Very well. That, I can promise.”

-

Despite your initial reaction to Vision's advice—of sleeping with Wanda and then asking her to marry you—as being ridiculous, it’s all you can think about.

You only realize what you've done after stepping out of the jewelry store, having just purchased an engagement ring with a central ruby stone encircled by tiny diamonds.

-

Tonight is the night.

You’ve set the mood—candles, soft music, the whole shebang. After weeks, maybe even months of hinting and hoping, you’re ready to take the next step with Wanda. Well, at least you think you are. There are two things in particular that are making your palms sweat and your heart race tonight. Firstly, the intimate step you’re trying to take with Wanda. And secondly, the engagement ring you impulsively bought, still tucked inside your back pocket, silently judging you for your timidity.

The two of you are cuddled up on the couch, the distance between you almost non-existent. The movie, 50 First Dates, plays in the background, but neither of you are paying it much attention.

The kissing has been going on for a good two minutes (not that you're counting or anything, but you just so happen to be facing the wall clock), and so, you make your move, your hand finding its way to her back, fingers fumbling clumsily as you try to find the clasp of her bra.

She stiffens and you hold your breath. Oh no. Did you move too fast? Just as a bead of panic-induced sweat is about to roll down your forehead, Wanda turns to you with a knowing look. “Looking for something?”

You stammer, trying to form a coherent sentence, “I just thought—”

She grins, cutting you off, “You do realize I'm wearing a sports bra, right?”

Right. You forgot she just came in from yet another mission. 

Your face turns a shade of red that could give her usual Avenger attire a run for its money. “I didn't... I mean, I couldn’t…”

Wanda laughs, a hearty, genuine laugh, putting you somewhat at ease. “You could've just asked me, you know.”

And before you can process that, with a flick of her wrist and a sparkle of magic, you feel the fabric disappear, replaced by the warmth of her skin. Your fingers freeze in place, feeling the soft flush beneath them.

Wanda raises an eyebrow, a playful challenge in her gaze. “You okay there?”

This. This is how you die—getting a heart attack with your hand under Wanda’s shirt.

Trying to reclaim some semblance of dignity, you manage a wobbly smile, words stumbling over themselves in a race to get out. “I was just... I mean, I thought... I didn't expect you to be so... efficient.”

Her laugh is soft, a touch husky, doing nothing to help calm the racing of your heart. “Darling, 'Efficient' is my middle name.”

You want to point out the countless times her middle was anything but ‘Efficient’ but that would definitely ruin the mood.

“Good to know. Any other magic tricks you're planning to pull tonight?” you ask with a smirk.

She leans in close, her lips grazing your ear. “Guess you'll have to stick around to find out.”

You both shift, trying to find a more comfortable position on the couch. In the process, the velvet box containing the ring slips from your back pocket and falls to the floor. As you bend down to pick it up, Wanda gets there first, snatching the box away with her powers just as your fingers graze it.

“What's this?” she asks, her eyes widening in surprise.

For a moment, you're caught in an invisible stasis. “I, uh... it's not what it looks like?” you stutter out, though it's clear by her expression she doesn’t buy it for a second.

With a smirk, she slowly opens the box, revealing the delicate ring inside. Her eyes flit between the ring and your flushed face, her playful smile replaced with an expression of tender surprise. “Is this…”

You swallow hard. “Yes, it is. I was... I was going to ask you. Later. After, well, after other things.”

Wanda laughs, a hint of tears in her eyes. “You were planning on proposing after we...?”

Hearing your idea echoed back by Wanda makes you feel slightly foolish. Darn it, Vision.

“Well, the cat's out of the bag now,” you sigh, looking directly into Wanda's eyes, a surge of bravery taking hold. “And honestly, I don't think I can wait any longer to ask you. I really, truly love you. So, Wanda Maximoff, will you marry me?”

Wanda looks down at the ring, then back to your eyes, searching for answers and confirming truths. After losing her entire family, right in front of her is the possibility of starting a new one. A tear escapes from the corner of her eye.

“You had a whole plan, didn't you?” she murmurs, her voice quivering.

“An extremely convoluted and very poorly executed plan, yes,” you admit sheepishly.

Her laugh is light and airy and causes her nose to do that thing you’re so crazy about. “Oh, you...” she trails off, leaning down to capture your lips in a soft, slow kiss. When she pulls back, she’s beaming. “Yes. Yes, I'll marry you. But maybe let’s deal with one thing at a time tonight, okay?”

“Of course, one thing at a time,” you quickly agree. But then, a wave of insecurity washes over you. “But, just so you know, if after we...you know...if you don't find it... satisfying or if I don't live up to your expectations or anything, you can totally change your mind about the proposal. No pressure or anything.”

Wanda looks amused for a moment, then her expression turns sultry. “Darling, trust me when I say that's not going to be an issue,” she purrs.

You open your mouth to respond but are momentarily derailed when Wanda, with one fluid motion, removes her shirt, rendering you speechless.

Leaning in so that her lips hover just inches from your ear, she murmurs, “I want you so bad, you're really going to have to work hard to change my mind.”

Her fingers trace a lazy path up your neck, sending shivers racing down your spine. 

“By the way,” Wanda whispers as you struggle to focus on her words through your half-lidded eyes. “I really, truly love you too.”

After that, words become superfluous. The need to be closer, to feel her against you, overpowers every sense and sensation. And as the seconds and minutes melt away, you find that with Wanda, everything falls perfectly into place.

-

“Just so we’re clear,” you pant out moments later, catching your breath and gazing at the ceiling, “It’s still a ‘yes’, right?”

Wanda's body trembles with laughter next to you, making you grin ear to ear. Before long, you're rolling back on top of her again, ready for round two.

-

The soft lapping of water against the shore serves as nature's own version of wedding bells. Your father's lakehouse, usually a place of quiet reflection and family gatherings, is now adorned with delicate white drapes and soft pastel flowers, transforming it into an intimate wedding venue. 

Steve Rogers, wearing a suit that accentuates his otherworldly physique, gives you a supportive pat on the back. “Nervous?”

“About the wedding or the fact that half the guests could snap me in half with their pinky?” you reply with a nervous chuckle.

“You’ve got this,” he assures you, seeing past your attempt at a lighthearted joke.

As for Wanda, she had never anticipated that half the attendees at her wedding would be dentists, including your parents and a slew of your colleagues. It was a running joke between the two of you; her slight dental phobia up against your chosen profession. But life has a funny way of turning things around. 

Sometimes what we fear the most becomes our strength, and that strength becomes an anchor. And you are hers, as much as she is yours.

[georgeclarkewifey]

Inconvenience | g. clarke

Chapter 3 - Ikea Trip

Summary: four boys and noa in ikea, what could go wrong?

Word Count: 1.1k+

Warnings: swearing, George being a dick

noamurphy

liked by chrismd10, arthurtv and 13,473 others

noamurphy literally got halfway to Ikea before they demanded to stop for food

comments open

chrismd10 well we were hungry what did you expect?

⮑ noamurphy wait??? to get Ikea meatballs???

⮑ gkbarry_ noa speaking facts as usual

⮑ noamurphy love you babe x

arthurtv but we wanted hot dogs

⮑ noamurphy yeah and I wanted a successful football career but we don’t always get what we want

⮑ arthurhill just saw chris choke on his hot dog after he read this

⮑ fan new Noa lore?????

fan1 she’s so real for giving us this

⮑ fan2 mother really fed us today

⮑ noamurphy I worry for you guys sometimes

fan3 Ikea vlog 👉👈🥺 pls

⮑ noamurphy arthurtv ?

⮑ arthurtv 🫡

“Thank fuck.” Noa muttered, as the car finally pulled into the Ikea store parking lot. Somehow, their half an hour journey had doubled in length when Arthur TV declared that he was hungry and wanted to get hot dogs. “Honestly, all you guys do is think about your stomachs.”

“But I was hungry-“

“Well aware of the Television, maybe you should have had breakfast.”

“I had two Costco cookies!”

“Is that really what constitutes as a healthy breakfast these days.” Noa replied, rubbing her temples. “C’mon, let’s get this show off the road and into Swedish Heaven.”

Noa managed to herd the boys into the showroom area without much fuss, but once they were inside was where the real trouble began.

Arthur, who had decided to vlog the entire trip was running round the bedrooms with Chris, deciding to tumble out of a wardrobe every five minutes to declare that ‘they weren’t in Narnia any more’, which not only drew the attention of all the other shoppers, but some of the workers as well.

“Dixie! Please hold yourself together for five minutes, please? Just five minutes so that I can choose a bed frame and wardrobe…preferably one that you and Arthur haven’t tried to jump out of.” Noa pleaded, examining a black wooden bed.

“What colour do you want everything in? Because that will narrow the search down.” Chris said, before gazing at a set of bunk beds. “You know, if you ever wanted to have more than one person stay-“

“I’m not getting bunk beds Chris.” She sighed. “I’m not seven years old. Or making a nerf war sequel with my cousins.”

Starting to turn red, as the others snicked, Chris shook his head. “I was a kid okay? And at the time it looked good and we had fun!”

“Is anyone feeling thirsty?” Arthur TV asked, a slow grin starting to form. “I could go for a can of quick revive.”

Chris groaned in frustration, throwing his hands in the air. “Children, I’m friends with actual children.”

The four looked at each other, processing what he had just said, before dissolving into fits of giggles. Realising what they had interpreted, Chris shook his head and began to walk off. “Great, now they’re going to joke that I’m a nonce. Wonderful, just what I needed today, really, really it is.”

“Oh come on Chris, we know you don’t like kids. George, on the other hand-“

“Nope not even starting that conversation.” George grumbled, beginning to play with the drawers of one of the bed. “Why would someone want drawers on their bed?”

“If they don’t have enough room for a wardrobe I’m guessing. Not everyone has YouTuber money you see.” Noa replied, raising her eyebrows at him to reinforce her point. George just rolled at her and walked away, causing Noa to turn to the two Arthurs.

“Okay, what is his problem? Was it something I said? Or did?” She asked, moving to go inspect the next set of beds.

“Uh, we don’t actually know, we’re trying to figure it out too.”

“So he hasn’t even told you guys? Don’t you have like, guy time where you air all your grievances about stuff, and then bark like dogs at the end of it?”

Arthur (Hill) snorted. “No, you’re thinking of the Diamond Dogs, from Ted Lasso.”

“Shit yeah I am. Point still stands, he hasn’t said anything?”

“Not to us at least. And then I’d guess nothing to Chris either, because Chris then would have told us.”

Noa sighed as she ran her hand over a wooden bed frame. “Great, so one of your closest friends is pissed at me and I don’t even know why.”

“I’m sure he’ll come round, don’t even worry about it.”

“Thanks.” She muttered. “You know what, I think I’m gonna get this one. It’s cute, it’ll fit in my room, and I’m pretty sure there’s a matching desk and wardrobe.”

Grinning wickedly, Arthur (Frederick) beckoned Chris and George back over to join them. “You know, I reckon you need to test it, just to make sure that you like it.”

Noa smiled and flopped onto the bed. “Happy now?”

“Nah, I reckon you need someone to test it with you know? Just in case you ever find someone, or get lucky on a night out.” Arthur said, turning his head slowly to look at George.

“Why are you looking at me?” He asked, a small undertone of disgust in his voice, causing Noa’s eyebrows to raise gently.

“Well my shoes are muddy, so that’s a no. And Arthur and Chris are like her brothers, so I wouldn’t ask that of them.”

“But you’d ask that of me.” He grumbled quietly, moving to stand next to the bed. George sighed. “Move over then.”

Noa did so, smiling apologetically at George, before shooting a glare at the other three, who had all whipped out their phones.

George bit his lip as he laid down next to Noa, and began glaring daggers at the back of her head. He was hating every second, especially the fact that no matter where he looked, all he could see was Noa. From the top of her head all the way to where her hair fell on her back, obscuring the graphic print on the back of her hoodie. For a second, he wasn’t sure if he was in Ikea or his own personal hell, crafted for him by Arthur Hill.

“Wait, Noa you gotta make sure you’ve got enough room to roll over.” Chris added, throwing the couple an enthusiastic double thumbs up.

“I’m gonna kill you.” Noa said, only loud enough for George to hear, as she narrowed her eyes at Chris, who was too busy grinning from ear to ear, along with the two Arthurs.

George saw this and averted his gaze, doing everything he possibly could to avoid meeting Noa’s eyes as she faced him. He resisted for as long as he could, but eventually caved.

Luckily, he didn’t meet Noa’s eyes, as she had presumably fazed out, gazing at the geometric pattern on the pillow. George’s stare softened slightly has he studied her features, noticing the faint freckles that dotted over her nose, as well as the small circle of amber that added contrast to her icy blue eyes.

George wasn’t sure how he had been staring at her, but he was saved from any further embarrassment by Chris clearing his throat. “Glad that’s over.” He said, immediately sitting up and fixing his hair, leaving Noa behind.

She coughed, rubbing her face as if it would absolve her of any feelings of uneasiness and embarrassment. “Thanks for that.” She muttered to the two Arthurs. “I’m sure that really helped the situation.”

“I reckon so yeah.” Arthur Television agreed happily.

“Being sarcastic Artie, being sarcastic.” She sighed, patting his shoulder.

chrismd10

liked by noamurphy, arthurhill and 386,820 others

chrismd10 can’t buy an ikea bed without testing it first

comments open

fan1 noa??? and George???? what is going on right now???

⮑ fan2 I was there and I don’t think they’re a thing bc Arthur asked them to do it

⮑ fan1 but why would he do that if not for…?

noamurphy hate you arthurhill

⮑ arthurhill love you too

maxbalegde can’t believe my mans in bed with someone else

⮑ noamurphy not my fault I promise he’s all yours x

fan4 I know they say that there’s nothing going on but look how close they are!!!! really confused rn

⮑ arthurtv Watch my vlog and then you’ll be fine

gkbarry_ omg who’s that fittie in bed

⮑ georgeclarke yours truly

⮑ gkbarry_ ew no not you

⮑ chrismd get roasted George

⮑ georgeclarke shut up hobbit