#it feels like its tailored to me bark bark bark

[lokisgoodgirl]

Liberties [Loki x Reader]

A Link to my Masterlist is HERE Summary: After ruining the biggest night of your career, Loki ruins you, too. Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI. Smut. Dickish Avenger!Loki. Language. Workplace romance. Rough(ish) smut. (w/c 3.1k)

Folds of your expensive black dress swished as you stormed down the corridor of the forty-sixth floor. Everyone was still at the event. Or, The Shitstorm as it would now be known. Shame. Shouting at someone would really help right now.

You tore out the earpiece and slammed it on the nearest desk, shoving a pile of papers off the side for good measure. Laufeyson.

You’d spent months concocting the perfect debut for that greasy-haired, peacocking, gangly-limbed motherfucker. Did he say ‘thank you’? Did he smile and mind his P’s and Q’s and pose with the New York glitterati like he was supposed to for one night?

Nails sank into the soft flesh of your palm. Course he fucking didn’t.

After he’d gone off script during his speech, stating he could fix the woeful state of Earth’s political spectrum in thirty-seven minutes, it had all gone downhill. Insulting politicians, flirting egregiously with their wives…with their husbands.

The cool glass met your forehead as your rested against the door with your name on it. Director, it said. It didn’t feel like it. Fucking Laufeyson. He was unmanageable—just like his hair. He didn’t even comb it—bastard. You’d specifically requested it.

There was a bottle of whisky hidden in the bookcase behind a doorstop project management manual. You glanced down the empty corridor a final time and slipped inside the dark office, making straight for the bookcase. Pulling out the book concealing your beautiful, impending numbness, you frowned. The bottle was—

"I’m afraid I took the liberty," someone said.

You screamed, lobbing the book in the direction of the voice. It hit the flat, black back of your office chair with a pathetic thump.

The chair swivelled: glacial, infuriating. But you already knew. It was that voice; the one that made it impossible not to imagine him making snide remarks while he fucked you from behind with a fist knotted at your scalp. And besides, you could see the wavy, rumpled crown of his greasy fucking hair over the rim of the chair.

"How did you…What the hell are you doing in here? This is restricted—"

"Restricted?" Laufeyson barked out a weak laugh of reprimand. "Please."

He raised a hand, gaze fixed on the ornate glass of amber liquid cupped in his palm. It had been a present from Stark for your promotion, and the sting of your nails on your palm burned new. "This is really rather good, considering."

"Considering what?" "That it was produced on this planet." His eyes slid to yours, upper lip twitching as he said, "Another thing to add to its sparse list of accomplishments."

You pulled another book from the shelf and threw it at his face. It missed.

Loki didn’t flinch. He just sat there wearing his favourite smirk; one foot resting on his knee and his shadowed eyes glinting with curious observation. He’d removed the suit jacket—the one specifically tailored for this event—in his requested colour, a lush emerald green with gold trim.

Dickhead. You’d run yourself ragged for his petty demands. And then he’d fucked it all up anyway.

Realising your eyes were lingering on the suspenders stretched against the wall chest muscle, you tore them up to his face and forced coldness into your voice. "I literally left the event to get away from you, before I punched you in the face; you realise that?"

"I do."

You threw up your hands and turned towards the window, arms folded; watching the flash of traffic on the street below like luminous ants. Spotlights flashed across the night sky, crossing and weaving against each other in celebration of the biggest night of the year. "Stark will fire me for what you did."

Loki’s laugh was accompanied by a splutter of liquid. You shot a glare over your shoulder, catching him press the back of a hand against his mouth and shaking with mirth.

"I think not. Stark cares only for publicity—and…" He extended a hand with a self-congratulatory flourish before resting an elbow on the armrest, brushing a finger to his lips. "He knows what I’m like," he added with a coy brush of a smile.

Heat exploded beneath your skin.

Before you could think it through you were towering over Loki, a hand spread against his sternum. You pushed against muscle, letting the chair tilt ominously backwards. Loki’s eyes widened fractionally, dark eyebrows peaking in genuine surprise. "If you've ruined my career I will hunt you down and I will—"

"Hunt me down?" Loki purred. His eyes dropped to your hand pressed to his chest and rose slowly to your face. "I’m right here, as you can plainly see. No hunting necessary." His rumble caught on the T. "Being accosted, no less."

You released him with a grunt.

"Couldn’t you just behave? This was your big night…your official launch in the team, your new start. Why couldn’t you just be good for once?"

"Good?" Loki’s voice hardened. A green, glowing rectangle unfurled in the empty air beside his shoulder, and a shot from the ad campaign you’d organised several weeks ago filled the space.

Emblazoned in Stark Industries font across the image of Loki looking like a sexual apocalypse in a skin tight leather combat suit were the flickering words, ‘God of Mischief.’ And then, Loki said, "It’s in the name, darling. The one you selected—a new start was never part of the agreement, nor was it suggested. I believe the phrase was, ‘refreshed branding'…Was it not?"

He shifted, and somehow the muscles in his legs were outlined in the soft glow of a thousand skyscraper windows. "Same package, different wrapping, as it were."

Your brows rose, trying to keep the brittle defeat from your eyes. "Your behaviour tonight was unacceptable. You can’t go around comparing global foreign policy to Thanos’s bowel movements."

Loki waved a hand, sliding the glass over the desk with a scoff.

"My behaviour is always unacceptable; it’s part of the allure. The populous long for something raw, something unexpected. Something unmarred by inane pleasantries and fakery." His eyes slid upwards, nailing you like gas lamps in darkness. "Take you, for instance."

It was your turn to scoff. "I don’t see what I have to do with this."

Loki leant back in the chair, eyelids drooping. His tongue nipped over his lips in a flash of pink. "You very much want to have me; I can see it. I can smell it."

Your jaw loosened, mortification prickling over your skin as he added, "Carnally," as if it required explanation.

"You’re out of your fucking mind. I can’t stand you."

Loki’s lips curled, and you hated how much you wanted to suck the smirk off his goddam mouth. "Correct on both counts, I’m sure. It doesn’t change the inescapable reality that you want to know what I taste like."

Your tongue shaped words, and then you choked on them as Loki unfurled from the chair: all long limbs, slutty curls and slimfit tailoring. Oh Christ.

Your bare shoulder-blades met the window as he meandered across the floor without a care in the world; bladed cheekbones casting shadows across his skin; assassins emerging from the dark.

"You want to know what I fuck like," he said, words stirring like treacle. "Whether I’m generous, whether I’m as good as they say, whether I’m as brutish and punishing as part of you hopes I would be."

He stood in front of you, hands clasped behind his back, and leant forwards until his breath was hot on your forehead and the expensive cologne wafting from the open buttons of his shirt drifted up your nostrils. A short puff of mirth exhaled against your skin before he added, piercing, "But most of all, you want to know what I sound like when I cum."

He was awful: conceited, rude, imperious. But, fuck, he was right.

Your sweaty palms slid against the glass as he straightened and waited for a response. He sighed, and you found yourself staring at the strain of the buttons down the front of his shirt as he did.

"As I thought," said Loki, bored. "Paralysed by your desires—wasting away in a pit of indecision and regret as so many of your ilk." He shrugged, arms wide. "So be it."

Your hand shot out, yanking the nearest suspender and pulling his mouth to yours. Loki’s hand flew to the surface behind your head, and the wall of glass trembled.

His warrior body pressed firm against your chest, crushing you in the scent of desire and the primal heat radiating from his skin while your hands fisted in his hair and the god groaned into your throat.

He pulled back, frowning as your hand grasped at the erection pressing against his trousers. "Let me be clear," he growled. ���I am no one’s pet. I will not be tamed. Is that understood?"

"Oh, will you shut up?" You tore at the buttons of his shirt, regretting the lack of nuance, before adding, "but, like, keep talking though."

Loki’s chuckle vibrated against your palms as the shirt slid over the curve of his biceps and then you were raking at his perfect skin, pulling his mouth to yours in a hateful mess of tongues and need and fire that ripped through your body.

Nimble fingers made quick work of his buckle, and Loki’s hands ran up the curve of your thighs, pushing the folds of your dress around your hips. "I've been longing to break you in..." he muttered, eyes shining in the light from New York’s glittering skyline.

You yanked his hair, and Loki hissed with pleasure. "I’m not a virgin; weirdo," you gasped, grasping his thick, perfect cock in a punishing fist.

His lips spread with a wolfish grin. "Ah, but you’ve never been fucked by me."

One of his hands slipped between your legs and trailed through the wetness it found. He moaned softly, massaging your clit like oil. Your head fell against the window as he slipped a long, elegant finger inside you. It was disgusting how much you wanted him, and you’d let yourself feel every, traitorous moment.

His digits curled, stoking the same, exquisite spot again, and again— "such a pretty, warm cunt," he whispered, filthy—as whines slid from your lips. "And to think, you’ve been denying yourself."

Loki tsk’d, his free hand playing at your exposed neck. He sucked a bruising kiss into your throat as hot cum welled around his fingers, holding you upright, balanced against the thigh shoved between your legs.

"Fuck me," you gasped, grappling at his shoulders. He said nothing. You met his eyes; slivers of blue visible on the rim of wide, black pools. "Like…fuck me, fuck me."

"I knew you’d want me rough," he said quietly, drawing his knuckles down your cheek. The hand fell to the neckline of your dress and before you could even inhale, a mighty rip sent your dress scattering across the floor.

Loki’s covetous eyes roamed your chest, your body; his chin dipped, his eyes glazed with lust. "Over there." He motioned with his head.

You followed the order and gripped the back of one of the two chairs positioned by the window. Leather slid under the sheen clinging to your palms. Loki’s touch cupped your hips, his hands grazing appreciatively over bare skin.

"I knew it would be tonight," he murmured, pressing his cock into the base of your spine. His breath was hot on your throat. "As soon as I saw the utter loathing in your eyes; I knew it would be the one."

He twisted your hair back, biting the curve of your shoulder with unbearable erotic restraint. You pressed your ass into his crotch, moaning his name under your breath as he traced a finger down your spine until he reached the cock leaking precum over your skin.

Positioning between your legs, he rubbed the column twice through your slick lips before sheathing himself on the third.

The two of you gasped in unison; the guttural growl of Loki’s voice making your knees tremble before he delivered the first, devastating thrust. The force of it sent the chair screeching over the floor.

"G-gods…you’re tight," he choked, withdrawing and circling the crown at the tip of your channel. "I knew you would be perfect…but…but…"

Another thrust and the chair hit the window, but you didn’t care. Loki filled every part of you; you’d never felt so exposed, so free, with every fluid buck of his hips which made stars burst behind your eyelids. He bottomed out with a grunt of your name, balls slapping against your clit, one hand flying to the glass above your head and making a messy streak as it fell.

"Not enough," he said, breathless. The god pulled you upright and kissed you with the force of a storm, gathering you in his arms. The next thing you felt was the cool desk on your ass, Loki spreading your thighs and the utter joy of him breaching the empty space inside you he’d ruined for all other men.

One hand roughly palmed at your breasts, the other cradling your skull as every trinket you’d every owned rattled on the desk. Somewhere, something cracked. He went harder, pounding deeper with each snap of his hips that slapped against your skin.

There was a clink, a melodic roll, and then a smash. The sharp scent of whisky filled the air. You began to look but Loki pulled your chin to face him.

"On me," he ordered, eyes narrowed. There was a faint flush in his cheeks. "On me. Always."

Your legs wound around Loki’s hips. One kiss slid into another, his bucks becoming frantic as climax burst inside you with a rattle of his name. He lowered you to the desk, sliding his glistening cock from your cunt and kissing down your abdomen.

As you craned up, slack-jawed, the god delivered a single, earth-trembling lick up the centre of your pussy; gathering himself on his tongue. He swallowed, pacing behind you and seating himself on your chair.

You sat up, observing him over your shoulder. His shirt was completely unbuttoned, thanks to you, pale skin shimmering pearl in the honeyed gloom. He looked up beneath his lashes—smouldering—slender fingers wrapped around the cock protruding from splayed fabric; pumping in fluid strokes.

He cocked an eyebrow, and it was as good as a beckon from one of those slender fingers.

Shifting from the desk, you sank to your knees, and Loki’s legs widened. The fabric of his trousers creased maddeningly over the meat of his thighs.

"Tell me you haven’t thought about this," he said, baiting. He could smell lies as keenly as sulphur. "That you haven’t wanted to choke on my cock."

It wasn’t a question.

You fixed your eyes on his as you settled a hand around the root and swallowed the tip.

Loki’s eyes rolled back, head falling to the back of the chair. Black waves dripped down his shoulders like spilled ink, every thrust of his hips into your mouth making new combinations of filthy curses rattle from his chest.

A hand settled on your head, following the motion as your mouth worked back and forth along the length of him: sucking, licking, grazing the sensitive tip with your teeth. Loki hissed, fingers tightening in your hair.

"Fucking Norns, you are a slut," he muttered appreciatively.

You doubled down, and soon Loki’s balls tightened. Something shifted as he stiffened, the hand in your hair flying to the armrest. His breaths were short, moans brief and ragged as he fought himself. "Finish me," he growled, tapered to a whine. One, calculated suck was all it took. Loki’s climax trembled down his body, spurting into your mouth like a tide of warm, smooth butter. Your tongue circled the tip, massaging him through the throes as his body shuddered a final time and a staggered sigh rocked the air.

A finger slipped beneath your chin, tilting up to meet his expectant smirk. "Well?" Loki asked, eyes glinting. "Was I everything you dreamt of?"

The lazy smile on your face evaporated. You brushed the hand aside, covering your breasts. Loki frowned.

"There’s no need for that, believe me." He guided your hands into his and pulled you to his lap. "Do you recall when I mentioned this realm’s sparse list of accomplishments?" You grunted reluctant confirmation. Loki sucked your earlobe between his teeth, releasing a contented sigh. "Your body is most definitely on that list." He paused, breath catching. "All of you, truth be told," he added quietly.

Before you had time to process what he'd said, you were standing.

Loki’s fingers fastened the buttons of his shirt with unnatural speed as you stared forlornly at the ripped dress on the floor. Fuck. There was a sweatsuit hanging in the small wardrobe stashed in the corner. That would have to do—you could slip out the side entrance, no need to…

"I’ll see you downstairs?" Loki asked, all business. He looked at you expectantly as the bespoke forest green suit jacket melted over his torso like paint. You’d forgotten how good he looked in it and resolved never to forget it ever again.

The god carded a hand through his hair, letting in fall in wild waves. The outline of his erection was still visible through the tight trousers. Did I really just fuck…Loki Laufeyson? A sick pride sprouted in your belly.

You crouched and picked up the tattered, black fabric. "I don’t think so, I mean—" Loki’s kiss cut you off. He sucked your bottom lip between his teeth as he pulled away.

"I’ll see you downstairs," he repeated softly. "Someone has to make sure I’m behaving myself, after all."

You rolled your eyes, trying not to stare as he swaggered to the door and shot a grin through the glass panels as he passed.

He has a point, though. You couldn’t let him go unattended. What if he gets one of the senators’ wives alone? What if he sexes them up...like me?

The thought, however ridiculous it would have been an hour ago, was like a knife between your ribs.

You scurried to the wardrobe concealed in the corner and opened it, cursing the fact you didn’t keep a spare office dress like the slinky bitches on TV.

You stared, blinking several times.

Hanging in the wardrobe was an identical dress to the one lying shredded on the floor. Almost identical. You pulled it out, holding the hanger up. In the glow of the midnight skyline, green jewels glittered around the neckline, woven in intricate patterns that melted into the folds of skirt. A note was pinned to the bodice. I can be good, it said. Our secret.

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[missdynamighttt]

head empty, thoughts full of secretary! reader trying to seduce boss! katsuki with all kinds of tactics.

it had started as a harmless crush. at least, that’s what you told yourself when you first landed the position as katsuki bakugo’s personal secretary.

you’d taken the job expecting the usual: long hours, impossible demands, and a hot boss matching with a fiery temper. what you hadn’t expected was how quickly you’d develop a maddening crush on him.

the man was the whole package— infuriatingly good-looking, sharp as a blade, and unapologetically confident. he had a way of dominating any room he walked into, and you found yourself daydreaming about him far more often than was appropriate.

there’s just something about him that’s just... irresistible. maybe it’s the way his tailored suits hug his broad frame, flexing his muscles no corporate worker should have.

or maybe its the way he looks at you, not with false pleasantries or the cool look of someone trying to be liked. it was a raw, unapologetic gaze (glare), one that made your heart race in ways you’d never expected.

fuck, you didn't want to be just his secretary—you were determined to be something more.

so, you began with the basics. a tighter pencil skirt here, hugging your curves just enough to make his eyes linger when you walked by. a blouse with a slightly lower neckline there, where one extra button undone gave just a teasing hint of skin.

every time you walked past his desk, he’d have to force himself to look away from the sway of your hips. every time you bent over to sign a document, displaying your perfect ass, he’d swallow and his jaw would clench.

when you walked in to drop some paperwork on his desk, his eyes lingered just a second too long on your chest before he coughed and barked, “didn’t i tell you to knock?!”

"the door was already open!" you smiled as you walked out of his office, feeling his eyes on your ass. a small victory, but you’d take it.

katsuki was a coffee fiend, obviously. strong, black, and bitter— no sugar or nonsense too, just like his personality. his day didn’t properly start until a steaming cup of coffee was in his hand, the aroma practically fueling his sharp focus and no-nonsense demeanor.

so you started getting coffee for him too, along with a handwritten note with his coffee cup that said: “for the most handsome boss ever!! xoxo, your prettiest secretary,”, before signing your name on it and sliding it onto his desk, meeting his glare.

“you tryna butter me up or somethin’?”

“of course not! just simply stating facts, boss.”

his ears turned red, but he didn’t answer as he took a sip of the coffee. and when you looked at his drawer one day, you saw he saved all the notes you gave him. you counted that as another win.

you “accidentally” scheduled a late-night meeting that required you both to stay in the office after hours. by the time the clock struck 9, the dim glow of his desk lamp was the only light in the room, casting sharp shadows across his sharp jawline.

you took a seat across from him, pretending to review a document, uncrossing your legs deliberately slowly. his eyes flicked to the movement before snapping back to his paperwork, his jaw tightening.

as the silence stretched on, you made your move. leaning back slightly in your chair, you let the tip of your heel trail slowly up the leg of his slacks, starting at the ankle and dragging upward, your movements deliberate and teasing.

katsuki froze, his pen stilling mid-signature as his sharp red gaze shot up to meet yours, the faintest flush creeping up his cheek. “what the hell are you doin'?”

“i think we should go to dinner,” you tilted your head with a playful grin.

his brow twitched, his expression a mixture of disbelief and irritation. “the hell kinda way is this to ask someone out?”

“its efficient,” you said, keeping your tone light as the tip of your heel slides up and down his ankle. “plus, i'm getting tired of you waiting to ask me. and let’s be honest— you’ve been staring at me long enough to know you’re interested. at least a little bit.”

for a moment, he just stared at you, the silence stretching as his jaw clenched and unclenched. then, katsuki let out a low, gruff chuckle, a sound you didn't know you needed to hear.

“you’ve got some nerve, don’t you?” he muttered, leaning back in his chair as a smirk tugged at his lips. “fine. dinner.”

he huffs, pointing a finger at you. “but don’t think this means you’re gettin’ any special treatment outta work. and if you're late, i'll make you do fuckin' inventory for the next damn month.”

“wouldn’t dream of it,” you smiled, already planning what to wear.

‎‧₊˚✧[ it's me, kia ! ]✧˚₊‧ ｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ ‎‧₊˚✧[ more of katsuki ! ]✧˚₊‧

⋆˚࿔ kia's note ˚⋆ posting a little faster because i made some of these while working on older bro's bsf fic!! hope you enjoyed, tempted to make a part two <3

[starryhyuck]

facing the truth. (m) — PATREON EXCLUSIVE

pairing: alpha!johnny x afab!omega!reader

words: 3.8k+

summary: you refuse to believe the moon has tied you eternally to the alpha you’ve sworn to hate.

genre: smut

warnings: a/b/o universe dynamics, mating, fingering, nipple play, pussy eating, bigdick!johnny, knotting, breeding kink, spitting, choking

this fic is exclusive to the $5 tier on my patreon, which you can access here! below is a tumblr preview

“Wow.”

You turn around to see Johnny standing in your doorway, smug as he leans against the wall. You search for a nearby towel, covering yourself up to his wandering eye.

“I thought you were Taeyong,” you bite, frustrated by his presence.

“So we’re not going to talk about what happened between us downstairs?”

“No,” you reply dismissively, grabbing your phone and pretending to scroll through your missed notifications.

“You may not believe I’m serious about mating, but I know quite a lot about the signs when you’ve met your soulmate.”

“You are not my soulmate,” you bark through gritted teeth. “I refuse to believe the moon has matched me to an alpha who completely disregards my feelings and fucks any omega who comes in contact with him.”

He narrows his eyes, stepping into your room and shutting the door gently. You take a step back, butterflies swarming your belly when his gaze darkens.

“I have never once intended to disrespect you. How was I supposed to know you were my mate? Was I supposed to wait my whole life and forget to have fun?”

“Yes! And I’m not your mate.”

He moves forward until you’re backed up against the wall, struggling to catch your breath as he inches closer and closer. Your lips go dry when he corners you in, his hand curling around your waist. You feel as if someone’s punched you in the chest. Your body lights up for him, sending tingles down your spine.

“If I’m not your mate, then why are you feeling this way for me?”

“I’m not feeling any type of way,” you deny, even though you know he can see right through you. “Especially not for an alpha like you.”

He smirks, leaning in until his nose skirts over your cheek. You inhale, trying to contain your excitement, which rouses from how good he smells. An alpha’s scent is usually tailored to their omega’s liking, but you’ve never been close enough to Johnny to recognize it before.

“So if I kissed you, you wouldn’t feel a thing?”

Your heart thumps so loudly in your chest that you’re sure he can hear the ringing in your ears. You stare at him, breath hitching at how he looks back at you openly, vulnerable while the lust swirls in his eyes. This alpha should be everything you hate, but you’re starting to forget why you’re fighting with him in the first place.

His touch burns against your skin, tugging at the end of your towel until it falls to the floor. Your half-naked form provides him the perfect opportunity to slot himself between your legs. You gasp when you feel his hardened length pressing against you.

Your gaze locks on his lips, wondering how bad it would really be if you decided to grant him one kiss.

A knock on your door interrupts your train of thought. “Hey, are you ready yet? I can’t find Johnny, I think he’s already waiting on the beach.”

You aggressively push Johnny away from you when Taeyong’s voice brings your clarity back.

“I-I’ll be right there!”

Johnny looks at you like a predator about to jump on its prey. “Are you just going to ignore-”

“Yes,” you hiss, cutting him off. “And so will you.”

He scoffs. “We’ll see how long you can last, omega.”

want to read the rest? access the $5 tier on my patreon here!

[wannaeatramyeon]

Goo Kim x Reader: One Night

G/N. Crazy Stupid Love Emma Stone/Ryan Gosling scene but make it Lookism. Masterlists

"Are you nervous?" Goo murmurs, a smile tugs at his lips when he feels you trembling.

He peers down at you and pauses. His hand, having worked its way under your top and caressing your bare skin - stops.

Tonight, you have aimed for sexy and sensual. It worked well. Fake it until you make it, and you made it when this handsome blonde at the bar invited you back to his apartment for a night of debauchery.

But your mask slips. It's hard to keep it on, y'know. When you are both half naked, about to be even more naked, there's nowhere left to hide.

Your nervousness comes out as a snort, because duh and you think some of your previous sexy and sensual points are deducted.

"Yeah," you respond with an awkward giggle. Then your mouth runs before your single brain cell can.

"- Also, something has been digging into my back all this time," Goo waggles his eyebrows at you suggestively, "No. Definitely not. I think it's a spring or something or I don't know... crumbs? Have you been eating in bed? Either way I think this is the most uncomfortable mattress I've ever laid on. Your silk bed sheets are something else though - who even has silk bed sheets? It's like something from the 80s along with waterbeds but god they feel so fucking great on my legs."

Goo is stunned into silence momentarily before he barks out a laugh.

He rolls off you and onto the left side on the bed, full body wriggling around slightly, experiencing the silk bed sheets for himself and chuckles.

"Sweetheart, you're right. And I've always hated this mattress." He sighs, adding, "I got conned by fucking influencers."

You whip your head towards him and give him a look, "Influencers?! What. Is this those fancy brands that I've been seeing them shill all over my social media-"

Goo turns towards you, a pout on his lips and eyebrows pinched together in a pitiful expression. "Yep. I've hated it since the first night."

"Then why didn't you return it!"

He shrugs and you laugh, your previous nervousness dissipating.

"I always wondered what idiot would fall for those."

"Hey!"

A brief moment of silence then-

"Did you buy these sheets from an infomercial or something?"

"Excuse me!" Goo shuffles, angles himself so he's fully facing you. Head held up by the palm of his hand and resting his elbow on the mattress.

There's mischief, life in his face that wasn't there earlier tonight. "Sue me. I have money to spend, sometimes I can't sleep, and those sales people sell things so well."

You let out another unrefined snort, amused by this guy.

Suddenly finding there's so much personality, a touch of vulnerability revealed in that statement, behind the expensive glasses, his tailored suit and his muscled body.

"Wanna see what other crap I've bought?"

.

.

You both wander around his apartment, which turned out to be a huge fucking penthouse now that he has the light on and is giving you a guided tour, in your underwear. 

Goo, no shame and expanses of skin on show, and you follow closely behind with his silk sheets wrapped loosely around your body.

He gestures at what you assume to be a coffee machine sitting proudly on his kitchen countertop. All sleek and stainless steel with dials and buttons on every surface.

"I can't even use this thing. I've had it for 2 years."

"Look," Goo opens an overhead kitchen cupboard, gesticulating like he's going to perform a magic trick, and dramatically shows you rows and rows of trendy kitchen gadgets, no doubt also purchased during moments of insomnia. Pizza scissors, spiralizer, bread maker, air fryer, pressure cooker.

"Never used."

"This," he points at the far wall, and you squint, barely making out a framed art piece of the ugliest monkey face you have ever seen. But hey, art is subjective, right-

"-is an NFT. I bought that too."

That tips you over the edge.

You cackle and cackle, doubled over and holding onto him for balance.

.

.

There's a dusty segway sitting pitifully in the corner of an unused spare room.

You jump out from round a corner, LED mask on your face and flashing a menacing red - "Boo!"and Goo actually jumps.

A lonely treadmill, placed beneath one of those fancy sit-stand desk catches your eye.  Goo smirks, "Babe, I don't even have a desk job."

Instead of spending all night tangled in his silk bedsheets together, Goo jogs down memory lane of sleepless nights and impulse buys with you by his side.

Your laughter starts to tinge all his memories.

Your good natured ribbing and mocking.

His hyena cackle joins yours, and he wonders when was the last time he was able to laugh with someone. Has he ever spent an entire night talking to someone like this?

"Ask me something personal." He requests, both now lying on his uncomfortable bed. You in his arms, hair tickling his chin.

"What do you want from life?"

"To make money."

"Why?"

"I want to be rich."

"Why?"

"Well, who doesn't want to be rich, sweetheart."

"Yeah but why do you?"

Goo remembers running errands, doing anything to earn some money. Anything for a price. His cousin calling in his services, and he happily beat up some middle schoolers to help him (and who was it again, Tabasco?) out.

He doesn't really know where his thirst for money making has come from. Maybe there's some deep set trauma from his life pre-juvie or some shit he should pay a therapist to decipher but alas.

He tells you this, all this and more. At some point, his head is the one lying on your chest and you absentmindedly stroke through his blonde locks, humming noises of encouragement, listening to his words.

Weird, Goo thinks, when he finally drifts off to sleep with you snoring gently beside him. 

The morning sun already filters through the blinds, and the hustle and bustle of Seoul has started to pick up.

How comfortable this feels. How natural your connection with him is. How this is the spark people dream about, and somehow it has hit him when he wasn’t looking for anything more.

That someone as different to him as you are, that is only ever supposed to be company for a few hours, a night at best, could spell trouble. Raise his hackles, send his alarms blaring.

When he's usually the walking red flag.

Because you’ve got him thinking. A lot. That shrewd brain hidden behind playfulness has been whirring; wondering about what happens if you become a regular fixture.

Maybe you might doom him, in the end. Maybe this will lead to a dead end and nothing more.

But he's curious enough, the spark is shining brightly enough, to see where else you might lead him to too.

[silverseaming]

At the harbour there’s noise everywhere — hurried rushes of footsteps, snatches of conversation, the voices of street-sellers rising above the everyday din with cries of “Fresh whelks! Fresh whel—”, “Apples and pears! Fresh today!”, “Roses, sir, roses for your Mis—!”. Along the quayside cargo masters bark instructions to their men, and crates clatter earthward from the decks or are borne aloft on the shoulders of brawny dockers. Beneath it all is the sound of the shipyard, a constant beat of hammers that Kit can feel in his chest.

Kit pushes on through the crowds, buffeted along by the busy current of fellow humanity. He wishes dearly for the open fields or leafy avenues of Brindleton. There the air is sweet, not thick with the salty seaweed taste, the people don’t rush, don’t crowd together, shout, or jostle.

A journey of bumping shoulders and muttered apologies washes him up on the doorstep of The Lermond’s Cove company, as the modest brass plate beside the door proclaims. The building is smaller than the grand shipping offices, tucked on the end of the harbour frontage, but it’s smart enough, and offers welcome shelter from the bustle outside. A small bell rings above the door as Kit makes his way inside.

“Hello, sir.” The young woman greeting him sits behind a solitary desk, a large ledger arrayed in front of her. The frugality of the outside of the building is continued on the inside, with the only ornaments to the small room besides its occupant being a few framed charts and maps. The whole arrangement gives the impression of being newly established. “How can I help you?”

“I, er, have an appointment with Mr Allen,” Kit says, suddenly abashed.

After checking an entry in the ledger, the young woman gestures down the hallway.

“It’s the first door on the left, sir.”

Making his way to the indicated door, Kit hesitates a second before knocking. He can hardly turn back now, with the secretary watching in the entryway.

His knock is answered by a curt “Enter.”

The man behind the desk rises to greet Kit, extending a hand over the tabletop. He’s smartly dressed, in a well-made suit of the latest fashion. The clothes look new — too new, perhaps. The thick callouses beneath Kit’s hand betray the lifetime of hard work that the suit tries hard to erase.

“Fred Allen,” The man says, by way of introduction. Releasing Kit’s hand, he gestures to the chair on the opposite side of the desk. “You must be Calloway.”

“That’s right, sir. As I said in my letter, Mr Miller up in Brindleton heard you might have opportunities going for someone willing to sell their crop.”

“Well, he heard correctly, I guess, though I have to say I wasn’t expecting anyone round here so soon. How’s about you tell me what set up you’ve got going, and then I’ll think about it?” says Allen.

“I’ve got about two-hundred acres just outside Brindleton, wheat and potatoes mainly. Only took over two years ago, but the last two harvests have done well.” Kit picks at a loose thread at the edge of his jacket, wishing he hadn’t done his collar up so tightly.

“You got any hands, or is it a one man show?” Allen asks as he sifts through a stack of papers, running a finger down a column of figures.

“Just me at the moment, sir, but some of the local lads help out around harvest. There’s room for expansion, though, if we come to an agreement.”

“Hm.” Allen seems to be considering, rubbing a large hand across his coarse chin. The more Kit looks at him, the more he struggles to see the businessman through the farmer — or is it sailor? At any rate, Allen’s tanned skin and deep crow’s feet speak of a life that, until recently, was spent working out of doors. The tailored clothes seem almost like a costume. It’s reassuring, perhaps, to know that Allen would understand something of the toil put into producing the crop.

Eventually Allen reaches the end of his deliberations with a great sigh.

“Look, son, I won’t pretend this isn’t somewhat of a cowboy venture, and that I haven’t got as much capital to be free with as certain larger companies. But I think we understand each other, and on account of your being the first to come and see me, I’m willing to give you an offer. I’ll take half your next wheat harvest, and I’ll give you two dollars a bushel if you’re willing to shake on it now.”

“I’m more than willing, sir, thank you,” Kit says. There’s a weight that’s lifted from his shoulders with Allen’s words, the anxious knot in his stomach loosening a little. Somehow, he’s managed to grab hold of the life ring thrown to him, and for a minute the hard work of hauling to shore can be forgotten.

Arriving home that night, dusty from the road, Kit feels lighter than he has done in months. For once he looks at the farm and sees it as something beautiful, rather than a never-ending source of work. There’s a little moonlight dappling through the trees, outlining the farmhouse against the night sky behind it.

For a moment, he leans against the fence of the cow-pen, taking slow lungfuls of the cool night air. Then he turns towards the house, and the faint glow behind the front door that draws his weary feet over the threshold.

Meg’s standing at the kitchen table, placing the finishing touches on a freshly baked cake. From the untidy tendrils of hair she keeps trying to blow from her face and the flour down her apron, it’s been a hard-fought battle with the sponge. The weak firelight from the stove behind her casts her in a rosy glow, and oh, it’s enough to knock the air from Kit’s chest.

“You’re up late,” he murmurs, giving into the urge to take her in his arms. Her body is warm against his, and she smells slightly of strawberry jam.

“I had to remake the sponge,” Meg sighs, finally pushing the finished cake away and leaning into his touch. “And I split the cream. It’s all a horrible mess.”

“Well hang the cake then, because I’ve got something that’ll cheer you up.” Gently Kit spins her round to face him, pulling her close.

“I take it your meeting went well?” She smiles.

“I think so. He’ll take half of next year’s wheat, and for a good price as well.”

“Oh, you wonderful man,” Meg says softly.

Kit’s reply is to lean down and kiss her. Even though he’s only been gone a day, it feels like he’s waited months for that kiss, for Meg’s hands on his shoulders and lips on his. Without thinking, he lifts her onto the table, hands finding her waist and hair.

“Christopher James Calloway, if you want to carry on with this nonsense then you will unhand me and let me clear up before we go upstairs!” Meg pulls away, trying to sound cross, but the barely concealed laughter rather ruins the effect. “I love you very much, but I will not ruin this cake for you.”

“Consider me told,” Kit laughs.

[cryogeniccrush]

A Coin Flip Away - Bucky Barnes x Reader

Chapter Three: Lucky Shots and Jealousy Triggers

Summary:

Your first mission with the team was supposed to be low-stakes. Just a chill little trip to Slovakia. You know—steal some drives, look hot in tactical gear, not blow anything up. But then Mel shows up in heels.

You trip. A bunker explodes.

And Bucky? Well. He doesn’t take the Hello Kitty magnet off.

Warnings: Explosions (accidental but also kinda fate?), blood/light injury, sassy threats, passive-aggressive jealousy, mel in heels, emotional chaos in combat boots, bucky looking hot and confused

Word count: 2k

masterlist • next chapter

Your first field mission with the team should’ve been easy.

Key word: should’ve.

Because nothing about your life—since the day you were born with luck-kinesis and the ability to find chaos wherever you went—was ever “easy.”

And this time, chaos came with lip gloss, tailored suits, and Mel.

Valentina had decided that her sleek, flawless assistant was going to tag along to “monitor team cohesion and post-Hydra behavioral readjustment.”

Which was code for:

“Hey, let’s throw a flaming match into your very delicate emotional structure.”

You knew from the second Mel climbed into the quinjet—tight bun, smug smirk, looking like she was about to audit everyone’s tax returns—that your blood pressure was going to need its own therapist.

She didn’t look at you once—but she did sit directly beside Bucky.

You stared. Hard. Bucky didn’t even glance your way.

Yelena leaned close to you, her voice dry. “I will hold your earrings if you throw her off the jet.”

“I don’t need earrings. I need a shovel and bail money.”

The Mission Brief

Target: Ex-HYDRA tech bunker in rural Slovakia.

Objective: Secure leftover black market intel drives before local militia get their hands on them.

Team: You, Bucky, Ava, Yelena, Bob, Alexei, John. And unfortunately, Mel.

“Light infiltration,” John said as the quinjet landed. “Minimal resistance.”

You looked at him and grinned. “Famous last words, Johnny Boy.”

He sighed. “Stop calling me that.”

“No.”

---

On the ground the air in rural Slovakia was cold and quiet. Too quiet.

The plan was simple: locate the tech vault, secure the stolen drives, don’t die.

You and Ava moved like a shadow unit around the perimeter, boots crunching on frozen dirt as you swept the outer corridor. Bucky and Yelena were inside clearing the western wing.

Bob and Alexei flanked the front entry like two not-so-subtle walls of muscle. John was barking orders from the middle like a pissed-off coach during finals. And Mel?

Mel was just... standing there.

No earpiece. No tactical gear. Just a digital clipboard and a critical expression, watching everyone like this was some kind of sad reality show she’d been forced to supervise.

“She’s wearing heels,” Ava muttered, ducking behind a crumbling wall.

“She’s wearing judgment,” you said. “And if she breathes near Bucky one more time, I’m going to pretend I tripped and accidentally stab her.”

“Maybe wait until after the mission.”

“No promises.”

You rounded the side entrance and crouched at the keypad lock on the exterior gate. Just as you started picking it with a paperclip and cosmic confidence, heels clicked behind you.

Mel.

“Agent Barnes says you’ve been helpful,” she said lightly, tablet in hand. “In your own way.”

You didn’t even turn around. “...In my own way?”

“Unpredictable. That has value.”

You stood, slowly. Turned to face her.

Smiled sweetly. “Did you mean valuable like a ‘wild card with brilliant instincts,’ or like a dog missing one leg who gets adopted out of pity?”

Her lips curled. “Whichever makes you feel seen.”

You tilted your head. “Oh, I feel something, all right.”

She didn’t flinch. Just turned and walked off with the smug self-assurance of someone who thought high heels belonged on a mission and that you were the team’s weakest link.

You clenched your jaw.

As you turned back to the lock, you grabbed a nearby satchel and slipped the closest laptop under your arm, just in case.

Thirty seconds later, while trying to catch up to the others through an interior tunnel, you did what you do best: You tripped.

In your defense, there was a loose floor panel. And wires. And possibly sabotage. Maybe even a Hydra curse. But the point is—

You fell.

Directly into a stack of unsecured gear that crashed into a support post, which jolted an unstable generator, which tipped onto a long-forgotten pressure plate, which—

BOOM.

A shockwave slammed through the corridor, dust raining from the ceiling as fire shot out from a crumbling wall somewhere behind you.

You blinked, still on the ground.

“Well, that’s new.”

The smoke cleared just enough for you to see half the militia’s defenses were now rubble—and so was your exit path.

Yelena’s voice crackled over comms. “What did you do?”

“Um,” you said, coughing. “Creative problem-solving?”

“YOU BLEW UP THE HALLWAY,” Bob shouted.

“No no no. Physics blew up the hallway. I just... introduced the concept.”

There was a pause over comms.

Then Bob, dry as toast: “Yeah, that’s gonna look great in the mission report.”

“Put it under ‘creative problem-solving.’” You brushed ash from your hair. Wiped blood off your forehead. “Or divine intervention. Either works.”

Ava dropped down beside you in the crater, eyeing the flaming debris around you both. “You seriously tripped?”

You nodded. “And fate did the rest.”

“I hate how that’s actually your superpower.”

“Jealous?”

She snorted. “Terrified.”

A sharp crack echoed above as a chunk of ceiling groaned, then collapsed. Ava grabbed your arm, yanking you away just in time.

You both stumbled back—and that’s when he appeared.

Boots heavy, jaw tight, hair wind-swept from the chaos: Bucky stepped through the smoke and fire like a dramatic entrance was required for contract reasons.

He took one look at the carnage. At the cracked walls, scorched vault, unconscious militia—and finally, at you.

You gave a little wave from the ground, raising the now-smoking laptop like a trophy. “Hey. Got the drives.”

His eyes narrowed like he was trying to calculate whether you were a miracle or a walking insurance nightmare.

“You’re bleeding,” he said.

“You’re hot,” you shot back.

He blinked.

“You’re supposed to argue back,” you added.

He looked… tired. But also like he couldn’t decide if he wanted to strangle you or carry you out of danger bridal-style.

“Why do you always look like you’ve been hit by a truck and still think you won?”

“Because I did.”

Behind him, Mel appeared. “She compromised structural integrity by tripping into a live wire.”

Your jaw tensed. “It was part of the plan.”

“There was no plan.”

You glared. “You weren’t invited to the telepathic debriefing.”

Bucky exhaled like this was the 57th stupidest thing you’d said today. He turned, ready to move on—

“James,” Mel said, putting a hand on his shoulder.

You twitched.

She leaned in slightly, lips close to his ear.

You burned.

Before she could finish her whisper, you walked up, slid between them, and very calmly slapped a new Hello Kitty magnet onto Bucky’s chest plate.

Everyone froze.

You smiled innocently. “Just making sure we don’t forget who he belongs to.”

Mel stared.

Bucky stared.

Yelena cackled in the background.

You walked off before anyone could say anything, muttering: “Touch him again and I’ll remind your kneecaps what gravity feels like.”

---

Later, back on the Jet, no one mentioned the magnet. Bucky didn’t take it off.

You curled up on one of the benches, arms crossed, head leaning on Ava’s shoulder. Bob passed you a juice box. You took it like a war hero accepting a medal.

Across the cabin, Bucky sat silently. Every now and then, his eyes found yours. Not annoyed. Not even exasperated.

Just watching.

And maybe—maybe—softening.

No one is allowed to judge her luck-based combat style unless they, too, have tripped into a tactical victory ok????ok. Also I did almost let her stab Mel, but I had to be professional about it (for now).

[shesjustanothergeek]

His Love

|Aegon II Targaryen x Fem!Reader|

Part Thirty

Masterlist of Series

Summary: Being a bastard born in the slums of Flea Bottom was all you were known for. Not the streak of white you had in your dark hair, the violet ring around your pupils, or how your sharp tongue and skills with the blade resembled your father, Daemon Targaryen. You were just a bastard, nothing more, but to him, to Aegon Targaryen, you were everything. You were his love.

Author's Note: Hey, y'all! Happy New Year! I am giving another big thank you to everyone who moved on to 2024 with me. I never thought I would have this much recognition for a story if I'm honest. I can't comprehend how many people like something that I put so much effort and time into. It's honestly so wild, and I can't thank y'all enough. <3

Chapter Warnings: Larys Strong AGAIN, sexual humiliation, a lot of misogyny. 

The discussion with Queen Alicent hung heavily and close to your heart, yet you held firm even when Aegon badgered you with questions about what she said, following you everywhere in the Keep like a pesky fly on a summer day. It was not right for you to divulge the information of private conversations; you wouldn't want someone to do that with yours, but as you thought on the subject in the following days and the eldest son's persistence, you let one thing slip.

"All right, Aegon, just be quiet!" you groaned with exasperation as he sat straight like a pup being scolded.

At first, you regretted telling him of Alicent's orders for you to leave King's Landing, though you realized it was more advantageous to do so. It furthered the divide between Mother and son, adding a sprinkle of animosity in your favor. After the discussion with Ma, it was necessary to ensure she still agreed to help prevent the Prince from becoming king.

Talking with her helped chisel the heavy rock lodged in your stomach since Aegon came floating into your chambers with jests of ruling the kingdom. Madam's network of spies ranged far across King's Landing but had yet to surpass that of the Master of Whispers. She assured you that even though Lord Strong had many, he did not have those that mattered.

You had to put trust in someone who was not yourself, and that was something that never ceased to cause the rock to mineralize again.

***

The crimson leaves of the Heart Tree swayed in the winter breeze, its bone-colored bark reflecting the cold temperature. You pulled your cloak together, a rather elaborate thing of golden furs and embroidered satin.

You would not have chosen it for yourself, but Aegon insisted on purchasing it while you visited the Street of Loom. And once the tailor noted two finely dressed individuals, one with silver hair, buying a matching gown was simply a must.

The merchant pitched the garment much higher than you saw his other items and fellow workers. You planned on letting the Prince use his coin any way he wanted for your trip, but that was something you could not let him do.

The Loom merchant resisted your haggling, his expression one of offense for thinking he would ever overcharge a crowned Prince, but you knew better. As a girl, it was your job to purchase supplies and food for the working women, and with golden dragons far and few, you managed to afford enough to survive. Or, well... steal.

By the end, you left the swindling tailor with a new fur cloak and a dress to pair, an intricate solid gold belt with asscher cut diamonds thrown in for the trouble.

You felt proud of yourself for securing such a bargain. Your inner child who sought the approval of those you admired was fulfilled. Even though the gown matched the elaborateness of the coat, something you would not choose if, in your wardrobe, you wore it with confidence, your chin high and shoulders rolled back.

Aegon made you feel these emotions, you thought as you listened to the whispers of bloody leaves above. He helped you grow and blossom in ways your Father or Mother could never. He lifted you onto the pedestal you deserved. You were not the bastard daughter of Daemon Targaryen to him; you were everything.

You were his friend, lover, the only person who understood him, listened, comforted, and dried his tears when no one else cared. You deserved to have someone who treated you the same, gave you the acceptance and validation you craved, someone who did not see you as an extension of themselves to do their bidding. Aegon gave that to you, a perfect equal of give and receive to one another, a match made of love and not politics.

And his love was peaceful. It was calm. It kept you warmer than the coat the Prince bought you, even as the winter air swept through your neatly plaited locks.

"Princess," a masculine voice called, the sound softer than the whisper of mist surrounding you in the early morning.

It was so quiet you hadn't a clue who it was, turning with a polite smile and your arms neatly tucked behind your back. You wished you hadn't acknowledged the man as Lord Larys Strong stood before you, hunched over his finely crafted firefly cane, curly hair loose at his ears.

The sigh you released at his presence was hardly proper, squaring your shoulders as you spoke with all Courtly people. "Lord Strong... What a surprise. How may I be of assistance?"

The man snickered, bowing his head as he waited for you to take a step closer as was deemed polite. When you did not move, your amiable expression never leaving, he grinned, finally speaking again.

"Yes, Princess, a pleasure. I was hoping to speak to you on matters of the Prince," he expressed.

All the color drained from your face.

"The Queen has brought it to my attention that, perhaps, you are spending too much of your time with the Prince. She believes that it mayhaps be better spent else where."

The flame of hatred for Larys Strong was reignited with a sudden burst; your jaw clenched as your eyes became slits.

"I believe what you speak is untrue. The Queen and I have come to a..." you paused, unable to find the correct way to express the secret Alicent unwillingly divulged, "certain understanding. We've discussed her concerns and come to an agreement. You've no need to worry yourself on her behalf." You nodded with a genteel but firm finality, pulling your fur coat closer to your body as you began to exit, set to see only one person in mind. "Good day, ser."

Larys was not foiled so easily. He had spent the entirety of your stay at the Red Keep waiting patiently for the perfect opportunity to trap you in his web. He refused to let the bastard girl with dark eyes and blood on her hands get away and moved his wooden cane into your path.

Despite the Lord being hunched over due to his deformity, you still had to look up at him, his blue eyes sharp and cold like the brackish waters that clashed on the cliffs of Dragonstone. "Forgive me, Princess, but Her Grace has sent me to speak with you, and I do not intend to keep her wishes unfulfilled."

You squinted in response, taking a single pace back and rising to his eye level. "I believe we can speak plainly here, Princess. I know you find the manners of courtly talk abhorrent." When you did not halt him in his silence, he continued, slightly tilting his chin down like prey seeking to appear meek and unappetizing to its predator. "Do you recall all those years ago, when you were just a young girl, stolen from all she knew?"

The recollection of those events was something you still had difficulty allowing yourself to recall. So many life-changing and heart-shattering things happened in that short time, but you still sought to process it. Larys' lighthearted approach to it caused your chest to feel hollow. The memories of isolation, loneliness, fear, and anger all came flooding past the protective dam you created.

"I thought to extend you a helping hand in your time of need, but you turned it away. It hurt me deeply to see such a young child broken and scared enough to reject an offer from the goodness of one's heart," he expressed, blue eyes lowering to the frosted ground in mock reverence. "I am, once again, simply a man seeking to help a scared girl in a world over her head."

Fury ran hot through your veins, boiling your bones and the very blood that gave you life. Before you realized it, your hand was wrapped around the Strong Lord's throat, fingers digging into the flesh and tendons as his gaze filled with fear. It would be easy to kill him. A simple twist of the neck would be all it takes, just the way your Father taught you. You were sure he would be proud of doing so.

The thud of Larys' cane hitting a stone as it found its way to the ground caused you to realize the severity of your actions, looking around to ensure no one saw. A young servant scurried along the covered hallway separating the Godswood from the Keep, realizing he was caught.

It was most likely one of the Master of Whispers' "spiders" that he so lovingly called, keeping watch to ensure that if anything of value happened during the conversation, there would be more than one witness.

Your grip loosened for Larys' neck, his unruly stubble scratching against your palm as it slid down to the collar of his intricately sewed tunic, resting your hand on his chest. You giggled, the sound eerily contrasting the seriousness of your attempted murder, a heart-stopping grin pulling your cheeks.

"The only thing that is preventing me from putting you where you belong is justice for all the other little girls you sought to take advantage of." Your breath was hot, steam hitting his face as a dragon would. "It is not me who will execute your punishment. The Gods have a place in the Seven Hells for men like you."

You let go of your hold on his jerkin, the Lord crumbling at your feet without his cane. The sight was fitting. A man who constantly searched for ways to hurt people, to harm people, for his own game was cowering before you. It was his proper place.

"Tell the Queen that my decision remains, and that my Mother also remembers their shared youth fondly."

You spared the Strong Lord no parting glance, leaving him to reach for his walking stick with embarrassment that only a man like him deserved.

***

The force of Aegon's thrusts pushed you up his extravagant bed, mewling and moaning as you sought for purchase in the sheets. He was feral as he plowed through your walls, noises emanating from his chest that sounded like a growl.

"These fucking tits," he groaned, eyes locked onto your jolting mounds. Your head tilted back in euphoria underneath his gaze, clenching around him.

Your breasts were moving in time with his brutal thrusts, making you unable to fully catch your breath as the air was pistoned out of your lungs. Aegon's hands pawed at them, kneading the malleable flesh underneath his fingers roughly as you released a nasally sound.

The Aegon that was submissive to your touch was gone and left only a man who chased his desires inside a woman's cunt. Each push caused his cockhead to kiss your womb, moving his hips more mind-numbing than the last.

Aegon had one goal in his sights, fuck that sweet puffy cunny of yours until you forgot all worries. He grew to know the telltale signs of your distress: cuticles frayed, mouth crude, and constant fidgeting. He had noticed the rawness of your lips, skin nipped and picked until the flesh turned red and white, legs never ceasing movement at rest.

He did not believe it despite you telling him about the conversation with his Mother, and now Larys Strong did not bother you. Aegon understood that expressing your dolor was foreign, never having someone to divulge your worries to and have them validate them. He knew it would take some time for you to grow comfortable and accept that someone would give you a shoulder to cry on and an ear to listen with, but he knew one way that always helped him forget his troubles...

Getting fucked.

And if Aegon so happened to get the added benefit of his pleasure, it was not something he would refuse.

His arms hooked under your knees, spreading them apart as he continued to rut into you, droplets of sweat glistening on his chest, creating a sheen that sparkled in the candlelight.

He was such a pretty boy. It was a thought that ran through your mind every time you saw him, and it created a deep envy to be a part of the same House and yet gifted such plain features. Aegon, with his elegant silver hair, exotic purple eyes, and smooth porcelain skin that showed veins of blue and green that looked like threads weaved into the tapestry of his flesh. With your dark hair and eyes, you have simple features for what people believe to be a simple girl. The only thing that indicated your Targaryen lineage was the white in your strands of ebony and the purple hidden within your irises. 

Your hands couldn't help but run over the planes of his chest, muscles rippling from exertion. It made you grateful to have someone so close to a god panting above you as his cock rubbed against your sweet spot.

Aegon's fists grabbed your own, leaning over to place both on the pillows beneath your head. Hot arousal shot through you at the action, his face hovering above yours.

You captured Aegon's lips in a desperate kiss, whining and wanting intimacy as you swallowed each other's breaths. The hair at the base of his manhood rubbed against your pearl, causing your legs to jerk inward to your body and your hips to move on their own accord, grinding against his pelvis.

"Fucking take it," he hissed against your cheek, hips pistoning into you like an animal in a rut.

"So good," you sighed, legs wrapping around his waist.

"You fucking love this, don't you?" You nodded into another kiss, his lips trailing down to suck at an already tender spot beneath your throat. "It's so hard being the one who takes care of everything. Sacrificing your happiness for the good of the realm, being the dutiful daughter your Father wants you to be."

Your nails dragged down his shoulders, digging into the thick muscle as he bit at the vein on your throat, licking the sensitive spot to soothe it. "I don't-" you breathed, voice faltering as his fingers snaked to the throbbing bundle of nerves, circling it swiftly, "I don't want to think about that right now."

"Oh, but all you do is think," Aegon purred, balancing his weight on his unoccupied forearm. "You think, think, think about the realm, family, the future, me." He exaggerated, punctuating every word with a thrust.

Each movement of his hips and fingers hurdled you toward the edge at breakneck speed, your body unable to catch up as you felt slick leak around his cock, trickling down through your arse. The sounds coming from between your legs caused you to shy away in embarrassment, attempting to hide your flushed cheeks in the goose-down pillows.

"Oh, no, no, no," Aegon teased, pushing your head back to its place, seeing the tears that gathered in your shut eyes from his forceful thrusts. "Let me see that face, and those eyes, pretty thing. Beautiful."

You released a sob at his compliments, unable to process the intensity of his gaze, the mere centimeters away his countenance was from yours. You could see every microexpression form on his features, every pull of his brows, every pinch of his lips and clench of his jaw. The noiseless grunts in your ear were better than the finest music you had ever heard, better than anything a bard could play, sending you teetering over the edge.

"Come on. Peak for me, Princess. I know you can do it."

Aegon did not falter in his actions, continuing with the harsh snaps of his hips, jolting your breasts, causing you to grab them for purchase as his fingers rubbed your swollen nub until you finally burst.

A gush of slickness rushed from your womanhood as you released with a fierce cry, your peak crashing into you like waves in a storm at sea. It collided with your body as you arched and shook, digits digging into your breasts, eyes seeing the night sky and stars blooming in your vision.

"That's it. You're doing so well," Aegon grunted, halting his movements as you clenched brutally around his shaft, keeping him firmly in place. "Just let it happen."

Your hands tangled into his hair, gripping the roots meanly as the spasms of your cunt eased, leaving your waist and limbs trembling and twitching beneath your lover. As your heart calmed with your chest heaving, you grabbed Aegon's face, smashing your lips against his, realizing he hadn't reached completion.

"Aegon," you whispered against his mouth, beginning to question him.

He shushed you, knowing what you would ask before voicing it. He understood you would not give up so easily as he felt your hips begin to undulate, pushing past your overstimulation in search of pleasing him. The Prince pulled out before you could assist him at the expense of yourself, lifting your pliant body and positioning you on your stomach, head at the foot of the bed.

Delicate strands of ebony stuck to the back of your neck, trapping the heat and sweat into a sticky, uncomfortable mess, though you hardly cared. You lay there flat on Aegon's wrinkled sheets, your chest rising and falling as you fought to catch your breath.

Everything had been so quick and intense that you had trouble comprehending what had happened. One moment, you were sitting in the Prince's solar, fuming over Larys' words, and the next, you were rutted into at such a pace you thought the bedframe would crack. Yet, despite an underlying notion of befuddlement, you were at ease. Your limbs felt like they were melting into the mattress, a euphoric warmth wrapping your body in its comforting blanket, mind fuzzy.

Aegon gently nudged you from your head with tender touches of his digits, smoothing your hair away from your neck and above your shoulder with tender kisses. A deep, nasally moan came from you at the action, slowly rousing and returning to your body. His kisses began to travel lower, sweetly nipping and sucking places where the skin rolled.

He pecked each vertebrae of your spine, cherishing the very flesh of your bones. Aegon knew that kisses and actions of affection would never be able to display how deep his love for you went, but he would try. He would honor the very ground you walked on, worship your body as if it were the Maiden's, and pray to the sacred passages written in your veins. He knew it was sacrilegious, but he would gladly suffer the wrath of the Gods as he had a sliver of your love.

Finally, Aegon's lips reached your bottom, leaving a last kiss to your tail as he leaned upright, gazing at the ambrosial sight before him. Your curves, hips, waist, and arse were almost celestial in their beauty, the yellow candlelight illuminating your form. His hands dragged down those very features, squeezing when he reached your bottom, pushing the globes together as he dribbled a line of spit from his mouth to in between them.

You perked at the unexpected sensation, turning your head to see Aegon fisting his cock, angry and red at his procrastinated release. He pushed your skin closer together, member sliding in between the two mounds of flesh with ease.

It was strange to have him fucking the crease of your arse, skin enveloping his manhood like a glove, but it wasn't unpleasant. Any touch from Aegon was something you welcomed, especially when he was satiating his desires within your body. The mere thought excited you once more, your abused cunt arousing as he continued to seek his fulfillment.

It felt almost freeing to be used in such a way. You would allow Aegon to do as he pleased because you trusted in him. You both went through enough anguish and heartache to leave you raw and unable to hide, your soul bare for the other. For once, you had no worries, no purpose other than to lay there and let someone take care of themselves without the anxiety of wanting your help. The thought made your cunt clench with arousal.

Aegon's thrusts were sure in their intent as his fingers pinched at your cheeks, keeping the skin taught to resemble the feeling of your velvet walls. You let out a breathy sound, keeping your legs closer together as your thighs rubbed, seeking friction you knew only one thing could give you.

"Awe. Is that little cunny of yours wet again?" he patronized, voice sounding like a dove. "Do you need your brat prince to fuck you mindless again?"

You nodded, hiding your face in the crook of your elbow with a pathetic mewl that would leave your Father ashamed as Aegon slowly entered. The stretch was not as severe, your walls having grown accustomed to his girth as he began to do shallow, sturdy thrusts.

A low, almost inaudible grown released from your throat as pleasure leisurely began to mount. Aegon slowly lifted your hips, leaving your upper body prone as he used the new position for better leverage, skin molding under his fingers.

His pace was rhythmic, rooting into your cunt with a sureness of a skilled musician with their instrument. The contrast in dynamics between the Aegon who was impuissant against the denial of your presence, the Aegon who had brutalized your womanhood, and the one who now tenderly groped and massaged your flesh was stark. It sent your head spinning, retreating into your mind as your pleasure soon overpowered your senses.

"So beautiful," the Prince rasped, drunk on the pulsing sensation of your cunt, "so beautiful, my beautiful princess, my goddess."

His words were mumbled together, too far drowned into the cup of sex, spouting incoherent confessions of love and oaths that would put even the most lovelorn of poets to shame. Aegon could not shake the captivating movements of your body, enthralled with the repetitive ripples of your skin, violet eyes flicking to where his cock disappeared.

***

The halls of the Keep were bustling, being only a few hours past high noon, the sun shining over the top of the grey clouds. Ser Arryk had just left his midday meal, something you insisted he take after learning about his tendency to skip it in favor of his duty.

His path was sure as he walked between the red rock walls, armor clanking with every step. You had told Arryk you would meet him at the library in the west wing after his luncheon, but you had yet to show. He waited until the sun was in a low position before he left, conjuring excuses the entire time.

You were a princess, a woman who had duties to attend to, so it was common for you not to be punctual, but typically, you would send word by either servant or guard. It put an uneasy feeling in the knight's stomach, though he told himself not to worry. You were capable and could defend yourself if need be, yet he was still concerned.

Arryk was your protector. He swore an oath to the realm and you that he would serve and lay his blood before yours.

He knew he could be rather melodramatic at times; you told him so with a shake of your head and a bright smile. He repeatedly replayed the melodic lilt of your voice inside his head until he reached the eldest Prince's doors, his twin brother standing outside it.

He greeted Erryk with a nod, his twin staring back at him with a furrowed brown like his own.

"I am unaware of the Princess's whereabouts. She told me that we would meet in the library, but has yet to show. Have you seen her, brother?" Arryk questioned with a stiff spine.

Erryk continued to gaze at him with curious blue eyes. "Did she not tell you?" he inquired, tilting his helmeted head as he answered. "Her Grace and Prince Aegon have been within his chambers since this morning."

Arryk's heart began to race, blood rushing to his head and thumping in his ears. "In his chambers?" he echoed, voice rising. "Brother, you know this is entirely inappropriate. You are directly putting a child of the crown in danger within the hands of-"

He couldn't finish, his twin swiftly grabbing his arm and looking to ensure no one heard his treasonous confession.

"I know this, Arryk!" he shouted, a blue vein popping on his forehead. "I know the depths of his depravity better than anyone, yet I continue to do my duty without fail! What say you, brother?" He interrogated with an intense gaze, anger simmering into a steady boil. "Where is your, Princess now? In the bed of a lecherous wastrel who entertains himself with whores and drink."

"She is not," he replied hastily, like a child trying to convince a parent. "She would not debase herself."

Erryk stared at his twin, the person he shared a womb with now so distant and cold. An air of anger and disbelief he had never seen Arryk possess in his entire lifetime shook him to the bones, causing him to pause.

He had heard of the rumors of Princess Rhaenyra and her former protector, Ser Criston Cole, but never thought it was possible. The Kingsguard swore an unspoken oath of celibacy and no romantic love, yet here, his brother held a fury and sense of betrayal only a lover would feel. He needed to stop him from going down a path he could never follow.

Erryk stepped away from the door, and his brother entered without hesitation.

Arryk traveled through the Prince's entry room, dodging furniture and end tables with more skill than a stag. He heard noises from beyond the bedroom walls, and his stomach sank. He understood what they were, but his denial was too strong, guiding his limbs with a forlorn dread to the eldest son's bed chambers.

Hope did not die that he would enter into nothing. The soft grunts and moans were, for some other reason, only the Gods would know. He would even be relieved with the possibility that Aegon was taking you by force. Arryk would be able to do what he swore and protect your honor.

Anything. Anything would be better than what the knight's icy gaze saw.

There you lay on the Prince's bed, arse up and curves on display in Aegon's hands, moaning in adoration as he pounded into you from behind.

Arryk wished you were dead, oath be damned because this... this was far worse. The pair of you beat his already shattered heart bloody on the floor, crushing in time with the Prince's sure thrusts.

You did not hear Ser Arryk open the door. You were too lost in pleasure to be aware of anything. Aegon brought his appearance to your attention, blood running cold.

"We have a guest, little one," he jested, unceasing in his movements.

Your limbs went rigid, your body going into fight, flight, or freeze, your mind scrambling on what to do, where to go, and what to say. Aegon's unwavering ministrations did not help as you inhaled panicked breaths.

Pushing yourself up to hide in shame, he quickly grabbed you, hooking his arms around your waist and across your chest to your neck, putting your naked form on display.

You yelped at the sudden change in position, Aegon's cock nestling inside you impossibly deeper as he continued his ruts. You couldn't comprehend what was happening. It was all too much.

Pleasure, embarrassment, shame, and fear were at the forefront of your mind as your eyes burst with tears. It set your nerves on fire, your already overstimulated body alight with every emotion and sensation you felt. Your muscles were too weak to protest against Aegon's hold as his hand snaked down your mound of black curls in search of that bundle of nerves.

"Please," you simpered, attempting to hide your face in the Prince's damp hair, "don't look at me."

Rivers fell from your peculiar eyes at an alarming rate. You felt like that same little girl on the day Madam cast you out. The day that had set everything up into the perfect maelstrom you now lived. You were ashamed, almost fearful of Ser Arryk seeing you in such a vulnerable state, a condition you required the utmost amount of trust for you to be in.

You should be furious at the person who put you into this situation, displaying your most sacred parts for a common person to see, but you couldn't. You were only confused and terrified.

"My sweet girl," Aegon cooed into your ear. The kind words created no comfort, instead causing a guttural sob to release from your chest. "Tis all right. There is nothing for you to shed those pretty tears over."

Nothing could stop them, yet soon they turned into wet moans as his digits swiped at your nub with more purpose, a singular, humiliating, yet arousing goal in mind.

"Please... get... out," you beseeched the knight, finally bringing your watery gaze to meet his aghast one.

You could see it written plainly as the tomes you studied, Ser Arryk's betrayal. His sheer disgust for the sight before him. It made everything so much worse.

The protector's thoughts were treasonous, oath-breaking. You were a fine warrior, Visenya reincarnate, yet you let this man defile you. He wished you were another one of Aegon's victims, raped and uncared for, because then he would not have to witness this... this vulgar and repulsive display of pathetic, willing vulnerability you gifted Prince Aegon.

Arryk had worshiped you on a pedestal in silence. He compared you to that of the Mother and fantasized about a life separate from societal constraints where you could be what he dreamed.

But that was gone now, burned in the flames of those who shared the dragon's blood.

"Come now, Ser Cargyll, I am not blind to your affections toward my Princess. You should feel honored to see her in such a way," the Prince antagonized, his thrusts sure as they wound the already-formed ball in your stomach.

"Stop," you pleaded breathlessly.

That was the word Ser Arryk waited to hear, hand going to the pommel of his sword as he took a dangerous step forward.

"Oh, don't be so tense," Aegon chortled. "She may say to stop, but if I do, she'll beg me to continue. Isn't that right, little one?"

You refused to dignify his belittlement with a response, instead choosing to release a low mewl, head lulling as if the weight was too heavy.

You were growing dangerously close to your peak despite the horrendous shame that bubbled up inside, and you desperately did not want a member of the Kingsguard to see you in that defenseless state.

"You are going to bear witness to such a sight, ser. You shall be the second ever to see the glorious act of her release," Aegon continued to deride, making that feeling of self-hatred all the more prevalent. "I can feel her clenching, her cunt begging to peak, milking me for my seed." His lips moved flush against your hair, his breath moist as he uttered subdued grunts.

"Let go, my love," he pleaded, voice now noiseless and tender with scores of love and adoration. "Do this for me, please? I need you to come. Show him that you belong to me, that you desire me, love me."

You could never deny Aegon; it was one of your shared vices.

With a gentle kiss to the crown of your head and a handful of harsh ruts, your second peak arrived. It rattled your bones and overwhelmed your senses, feeling as if your mind had left this realm of existence from the sheer intensity of it.

Moans of ecstasy pierced Ser Arryk's ears like a needle to the eye, the sound causing bile to fill his mouth as he ran from the room, unable to keep watching and missing how the Prince sullied your perfect skin.

It relieved Aegon that the knight finally left. He grew increasingly guilty for the tears he had caused and continued to flow freely. Perhaps he had pushed you too far, he mused as his hot spend dripped from your stomach and onto the sheets. Anxiety crept into his chest as he felt your body finally grow limp, your hands grasping any part of him you could find to ground yourself.

You realized then that this moment was more for Aegon than you. His tears welled in his amethyst orbs as he began to apologize profusely. His actions came from a deep-seated insecurity that no reassurance could ever mend, and while it did not excuse what he did, it provided reason.

Remorse was the least he could offer after disgracing you in favor of tending to his broken ego as he kissed every piece of skin he could find. It would take time for you to forgive Aegon for the sexual humiliation he put you through, and you realize that he understood that, too, as he spouted incoherent regret.

You loved him, perhaps too much to be considered sane, but that was another item on your list of shared vices.

Masterlist of Series

You know that no one can be happy for long in this universe. That's all I'm going to say xD.

Tagged Peeps: @zeennnnnnn , @malfoytargaryen , @targaryencore , @justasmallbean , @omgsuperstarg , @sommornyte , @silverslive , @prettykinkysoul , @djlexi , @ynbutbetter , @legolas017 , @iiamthehybrid , @dd122004dd , @ladybug0095 , @millies0bsimp , @kalfild , @sheislonelyalways , @tempt-ress , @minttea07 , @trikigirl271 , @esposadomd , @prettywhenicry4 , @daenerysqueenofhearts , @justarandomflowerchildofthenight , @partypoison00 , @please-buckme , @pastelorangeskies , @existential-echo , @priyajoyy , @valaenatargaryensdragon , @merovingianprincess , @candy12110 , @w3ird11 , @ruhjkie , @somemydayy , @marikkjj , @zillahvathek , @sunfyresrider , @heavenly1927, @prettylittlelady, @hjgdhghoe , @im-sidney , @aurorathi , @marihoneywk

[canmom]

post-animation night 177 comments

brief thoughts on kizazi moto (more substantial tomorrow perhaps): visually that was so lush. we're really full post-Arcane/Spiderverse nonphotorealistic stylings here, with a powerful dash of Trigger/Flying Bark-esque Neo Kanada School as well. this was like a cross-section of the current big styles in animation and it kicked ass for that. I'm not entirely sure what the production pipeline looked like - the Irish film board was apparently involved somehow! and maybe some Irish studios so it wasn't a purely African production - but it was an extremely impressive showing all round.

narratively, putting it right beside Fatenah kinda highlighted the places it wasn't willing to go. though I had heard the directors had a lot of freedom, there were some very consistent themes running throughout the anthology - nearly every film involved parent-child relationships, many of them revolving around a kid hoping to prove themselves in the eyes of their society/ancestors. the uglier side of history is touched on lightly: one film shows us a flashy cyberpunk city from an alternate timeline where 'Great Zimbabwe was never colonised', complete with 'the most advanced justice system in the multiverse' (a giant robot bird that chases our protagonists), but doesn't expand on that as more than a colourful backdrop. the last film gets closest, presenting a mother-child pair of two gods who are wounded by extractivism and retreat from the world - I appreciated the understated bleak implication of its ending.

I think while the creators were probably not given too much overt creative restriction, they were surely aware this was to be broadcast in English on Disney's streaming service, and tailored their stories accordingly. so you'd probably avoid "Disney is the face of American imperialism: the movie". Disney money is a bit of a double-edged sword that way.

besides parent/child reconciliation, we had a lot of ancestors and more than a few gods. a few stories centred on coming of age rituals; other had a more or less central focus on social media fame and its corrupting effect. at times it verges into the preachy - characters who stand between two families, or between humans and aliens, and resolve to honour both sets of ancestors - but the presentation is more than engaging enough to make it a compelling watch, regardless.

there's a lot of wonderful lighting, set design and architecture throughout. Mọrémì had a very cool desaturated style with toyetic, colourful 'soul-stealing giants' that put me a little in mind of Absolver.

Stardust had a bit of a Star Wars feel, almost feeling like an extra Visions short, but the injection of Islamic architecture was very effective.

a certain Arcane/Riot influence is very overt in many of the films - not just in the widespread use of paint textures in the CG environments and the approach to light and colour, but also with plot elements like the neon-drenched surfer gang in Surf Sangoma (episode 4) - which was definitely a fantastic-looking episode with the wonderfully out-there premise of a world where you have a squid suck on your face to gain surf skills. (just say no to squids, kids! you don't need 'em! rely on your magic ghost mum instead.) but I think this is something that's true in the animation industry more generally of late - the last few years have really kicked the door open to 2D stylings in 3D (paint textures, reduced framerates etc.). no doubt having a Spiderverse director as exec producer played a role in that too!

all in all I really enjoyed this anthology, and I'm super excited to see what comes next from the studios involved.

Fatenah meanwhile was fantastic, and an absolute gut punch. the fact that the hospital seen in the film has been in the news for being emptied out at gunpoint in the last week gave it a special level of 'oof'. its style may seem disarmingly simple, but the puppet-like styling ends up bestowing a huge degree of weight to the characters. the scenes of the border checkpoint, the monotony of cages and guards, and the concrete environment resembling a Half Life 2 map, were very impactful. highly recommend taking 20 minutes to watch this film.

[roverjamball]

2025 - Year Of The OTP

February • "it made me think of you"

Chapter 2: a kinda type of - mind control/mind break

Many years ago.

Jason Todd is Robin. 17 years old and before RedHood.

Gotham

Wayne Manor.

Jason watched the monitors, as one blink. He almost fell off his chair and his head narrowly missed the cave wall on which he was precariously, leaning.

As if he imagined it, the cameras function normally. The camera is on top displayed the grounds, the cameras in the middle and the bottom displayed Blindspot around the house, the grounds and the cave, the feet of which was local, viewable only in the BatCave.

As much as Jason hated monitor duty, after the break-in by Shadow master, Bruce Alfred, and I installed wired cameras disguised as mundane objects like birdfeeders, fountains, and even few as topiary. And then around the house in replica of ridiculously expensive show pieces.

The hidden surveillance equipment, totally CCTV, covered Blind spots, were motion activated to send an alert when something bigger than a bird moved around the property. And it was Jason's job, to watch the monitors and see how well the system function.

While he absolutely was on board, in theory, impractical, a man in his late teens with a driving license, had much better things to do then stare at screens that showed him the house he lived in, the gate he used every day, the grounds where he trained and cursed Bruce.

Except for that little blink, that seemingly resolved itself on its own, everything was as boringly normal as before. Except for the chill that ran up his spine. It's a cold, dark damp cave. Jason, very easily after his near brush with concussion, could be feeling the effects of adrenaline wearing off.

Maybe, Jason thought, I did imagine it. The system is new. The whole point of me sitting here and testing. It is to sort out these glitches. I mean, Jason convinced himself that such little blink in the system where the very reason he was here to identify and find solutions.

He watched the screens, grass dancing in a gentle breeze. He watched the butterfly flit from one flower to another, disappearing from one camera and appearing a few moments later on another. He almost convinced himself. His heartbeat almost returned to normal. As he side in relief, a glittery, purple shadow appeared on the closed circuit system. Far away from the main gate in a perfect Blind spot and then there Hidden from everybody except Jason, a beautiful Raven haired girl appeared.

One moment, there was a bark of a tree, and then the next the girl stood as still as a statue. Her hair was the only thing about her that moved. The breeze teased a few glossy strands, as she stood perfectly still.

Jason watched transfixed. All other screens forgotten. She could very well be a distraction. The perfect distraction, as if tailored to him.

Where did you come from, Jason whispered.

Everything about her was appealing, her straight face, glowing, a golden bronze in the sun. Dark hair framed her face, and a few strands that teased her cheeks and chin. The dark brows that framed startling eyes that popped right through the camera.

She was slender but toned, Jason noticed, his eyes traced from her face to strong legs visible under a cape, and shoulders under midnight blue costume and a matching suede boots. His eyes swung back to her round face, smooth, with a sharp nose, and plump rosebud lips.

After the Mirror Master, so effectively breached the cave security, and stole from them, Jason thought the new measures were air tight.

While Jason would like to say, he raised the alarm within moments, it was the girl who emotionlessly stared into the camera, formed a look of exasperation, he recognised from Alfred when Jason did something blinding stupid.

Well? Do something her eyes said.

Right! And because she was looking at him as her she could see him just as he could her, Jason raised a finger in the universal one moment gesture, while he flailed around looking for the Emergency button.

Alerts to Bruce, Alfred, and maybe even Nightwing? sent, Jason rushed to the front door, meeting up with Alfred who was already receiving instructions from Bruce.

[15button]

Designer Dog T-Shirts You Can’t Miss – 15 Buttons

Fashion Isn’t Just for Humans Anymore—It’s a Whole Pet Parade Out There

Remember the days when a basic collar was considered “dressed up” for your dog? Yeah, those days are long gone. Welcome to 2025, where dog fashion is no longer a novelty—it’s a lifestyle. Pet parents today aren’t just picking up treats and toys; they’re building entire wardrobes for their fur babies. And let’s be honest—it’s about time they got the fashion spotlight they deserve.

At 15 Buttons, we’ve spent the last year observing trends, talking to pet parents, and obsessing over patterns, fabrics, and pet-friendly tailoring. So whether your pup is more of a minimalist or a full-on desi drama queen, these 2025 dog fashion trends will have tails wagging and cameras snapping.

Let’s dive in, shall we?

1. Ethnic Fusion Wear: Tradition Meets Tail-Wagging

Indian ethnic wear for pets? Oh yes. In 2025, we’re seeing a major wave of fusion fashion for dogs—think sherwanis with street-style flair, lehenga-inspired ruffle collars, and embroidered capes with a modern cut.

At 15 Buttons, our designers are all about blending tradition with comfort. Take our Bandhani-printed sherwanis, for instance—lightweight, breathable, and packed with royal vibes. Perfect for weddings, Diwali parties, or just when your dog wants to outdress you (which is often, let’s be honest).

Pro tip: Pair it with a matching human outfit. Because #TwinningIsWinning.

2. Sustainable & Organic Fabrics: Eco-Chic is In

Let’s not forget—our pets deserve clean, chemical-free fabrics just like we do. In 2025, the move toward sustainable dog fashion is growing fast. That means organic cotton bandanas, natural dyes, and eco-friendly stitching materials.

15 Buttons is leading the pack (pun fully intended) with collections that are not only stylish but also gentle on your pet’s skin and the planet. No more itchy polyester nightmares. It’s all about feel-good fashion—literally and ethically.

Bonus? These pieces look timeless and photograph like a dream in natural light.

3. Festival-Specific Collections: Holi, Diwali, Pawrty On

This year, festival-specific petwear has gone from occasional to essential. You wouldn’t show up to a Holi bash in boring neutrals—why should your pup?

Our Holi Splash Bandanas and Diwali Regal Jackets are already pet-parent favorites. Add a touch of sparkle, some bright colors, and boom—your dog is the life of the party. Fireworks not included (because, anxiety).

And yes, we’re planning Eid specials and even Independence Day co-ords too. Because patriotism looks better with paws.

4. Streetwear for Dogs: Hoodies, Graphics, and Attitude

You’ve heard of streetwear. Now meet streetwoof.

Graphic prints, statement slogans (“Feed Me Tandoori”), tiny hoodies with paw pockets, and bold, gender-neutral palettes are flooding the petwear scene. Dogs in oversized fits? Insta gold.

15 Buttons is dropping its first-ever street-style capsule collection this summer, and let’s just say—it’s fire. Designed for comfort, sass, and a little bit of swagger. Perfect for pups who think they run the block. (And honestly, they kinda do.)

5. Matching Pet & Parent Looks: Because One Outfit Is Not Enough

This one’s for the ‘Gram. Coordinated outfits are no longer just for couples or BFFs—pet-parent twinning is now a legit trend. Whether it’s matching prints, color palettes, or even full-blown his-and-paws kurtas, this is the look for 2025.

15 Buttons is at the heart of this movement, offering customized matching sets that’ll make you and your pup the talk of any event. It’s cute, it’s funny, it’s heart-melting—and it makes for ridiculously adorable reels.

Warning: Side effects may include increased follower count.

6. Mood-Based Accessories: Yes, Dogs Have Vibes Too

Not every day is a sherwani day. Sometimes your pup just wants to vibe. That’s where mood-based fashion accessories come in—bandanas that say “Pawlease,” collars that scream “Bark Side of the Moon,” and even emoji badges you can switch out based on your pet’s mood.

We’ve seen huge love for our 15 Buttons mood bandana sets—they’re reversible, lightweight, and ridiculously expressive. Honestly, they speak louder than most humans.

7. Customized Fashion: Tailored Just for Your Pet

2025 is also the year of personalization. Think name-embroidered jackets, custom-fit ethnic wear, and even initials on bowties. At 15 Buttons, we get that no two pets are the same—so their outfits shouldn’t be either.

Our “Made for Me” line lets pet parents submit their pup’s size, vibe, and preferences—and we craft something just for them. No generic sizing. No ill-fitting hoods. Just couture-level love.

Because your dog is one of one.

8. Functional Fashion: Look Good, Feel Even Better

Dog fashion isn’t just about looking fab—it’s also about smart design. In 2025, the best dogwear combines style with comfort and purpose.

We’re talking:

Velcro straps that don’t tug at fur

Breathable layers for Indian climates

Reflective trims for evening walks

Built-in leash clips in jackets (yep, we did that)

With 15 Buttons, your pup doesn’t just wear clothes—they wear comfort. Which is why you’ll rarely see them trying to wiggle out of our stuff. They actually enjoy it. (Okay, some treats may be involved.)

9. Mini-Me Bridal Looks: For When Your Dog Is Basically Your Child

Planning a wedding in 2025? You know your dog’s on the guest list. But why stop there? Make them a bark-boy, a paw-bridesmaid, or the one who delivers the rings in full-on sherwani glory.

15 Buttons has been getting a ton of requests for mini bridal petwear—and yes, it’s as dreamy as it sounds. Soft tulle skirts for lady pups, and silk jackets with golden embroidery for the gentlemen. We’re not crying, you are.

Wrapping It Up (Like a Dog Burrito in a Blanket)

2025 is shaping up to be the most fashion-forward year yet for dogs. It’s not just about making them look cute—it’s about celebrating who they are. Their sass, their loyalty, their chaos, their love. And through fashion, we get to say, “Yeah, this little furball? They’re family.”

At 15 Buttons, we’re not just making clothes. We’re making memories. Statement pieces that show up in your photos, your celebrations, and your heart.

So go ahead—embrace the sparkle, the sass, the tradition, and the tail wags. Because fashion isn’t about following trends—it’s about showing the world who you are.

And trust us, your pet? They’ve got plenty to say.

https://15buttons.in/blogs/news/couple-matching-dress

Visit this website for more information

https://15buttons.in/

[tctails04]

The Rise of In-Home Dog Sitting in Traverse City

As Traverse City wakes to another crisp Northern Michigan morning, a quiet revolution is reshaping how pet parents care for their pups. Dog sitting Traverse City is on the rise, with in-home dog sitter services stealing the spotlight from traditional kennels. Gone are the days of leaving your furry friend in a cage—today, dog sitters Traverse City are offering personalized, home-based care that’s winning hearts and wagging tails across the region.

At the forefront of this shift is TC Tails, a standout in dog sitting services that’s redefining what it means to find a professional dog sitter near me. In this blog, we’ll explore why in-home dog sitting Traverse City is booming, its benefits for dogs and owners, and how TC Tails is leading the charge. Whether you need a dog sitter while on holiday or a special needs dog sitter, here’s why this trend is here to stay—and how it’s transforming pet care in 2025.

What Is In-Home Dog Sitting?

In-home dog sitting Traverse City flips the script on pet care. Instead of dropping your dog off at a facility, dog sitters at their home near me welcome your pup into their own space—or come to yours—offering a cozy, familiar environment. Unlike kennels with rigid schedules and shared pens, dog sitter services provide one-on-one attention tailored to your dog’s needs, from playtime to nap routines.

For Traverse City pet parents searching for a dog sitter Traverse City, in-home care means peace of mind. Your dog stays in a home setting—think a big fenced yard or a comfy couch—rather than a sterile crate. It’s a game-changer, especially for those seeking professional dog sitter near me options that feel like an extension of their own family.

Why In-Home Dog Sitting Is Rising in Traverse City

The surge of dog sitters Traverse City isn’t random—it’s fueled by a perfect storm of local trends in 2025. First, pet parents are prioritizing comfort over convenience, ditching kennels for dog sitting services that mimic home life. Traverse City’s growing population—up 3% since 2020, per local estimates—brings more dogs and a higher demand for dog sitter Traverse City solutions.

Add in the rise of remote work, and you’ve got sitters like those at TC Tails offering round-the-clock care from home, a perk kennels can’t match. Seasonal tourism also plays a role—summer visitors and holiday travelers need reliable dog sitter while on holiday options, boosting professional dog sitter near me services. In a city where dogs are family, dog sitting Traverse City is evolving to meet modern needs with a personal touch.

Benefits of In-Home Dog Sitting for Dogs and Owners

Why’s this trend winning over Traverse City? The benefits of dog sitting services are barking loud:

Comfort for Dogs: In-home dog sitters at their home near me offer a stress-free zone—your pup lounges where they feel safe, not in a noisy kennel.

Personalized Care: Need a special needs dog sitter? In-home pros like TC Tails adapt to meds, diets, or mobility issues with ease—something mass boarding can’t replicate.

Flexibility for Owners: Whether it’s a weekend getaway or a month-long trip, a dog sitter while on holiday adjusts to your schedule, not the other way around.

Peace of Mind: Daily updates and photos from a professional dog sitter near me keep you connected, no matter where you are.

Take a senior Lab with arthritis—kennels might struggle, but a dog sitter Traverse City can provide gentle walks and cozy rest spots. For owners, dog sitter services mean no guilt, just trust that their pup’s thriving.

Traverse City’s Unique Appeal for Dog Sitting

Traverse City isn’t just any town—it’s a dog lover’s paradise, making dog sitting Traverse City a natural fit. With trails like TART and dog parks like Silver Lake, the area’s pup-friendly vibe fuels demand for dog sitters Traverse City. Picture your dog romping in a sitter’s fenced yard, mirroring the freedom of West Bay’s open spaces—dog sitting services here tap into that lifestyle.

The community’s tight-knit feel also drives the trend. Locals prefer a professional dog sitter near me they can meet and trust over impersonal kennels. Seasonal snowbirds and summer cottage owners further spike the need for dog sitter while on holiday care, cementing Traverse City as a hotspot for in-home dog sitter services in 2025.

TC Tails: Leading the In-Home Dog Sitting Wave

Enter TC Tails, the gold standard for dog sitting Traverse City. Run by Jared, a 32-year-old animal lover and entrepreneur, TC Tails offers dog sitters at their home near me with a massive fenced yard—think dog park size—and a friendly pup named Charlie to keep yours company. Working from home, Jared’s always on hand, making him a top professional dog sitter near me for locals.

What sets TC Tails apart? Experience with all breeds and temperaments, including special needs dog sitter care—perfect for dogs needing extra TLC. Reviews rave about last-minute bookings, daily updates, and Charlie’s playmate charm, proving dog sitting services here are a cut above. For Traverse City pet parents, TC Tails is the heartbeat of the in-home revolution.

How to Choose the Right In-Home Dog Sitter

Finding the perfect dog sitters Traverse City takes a little savvy. Here’s your 2025 guide:

Check Experience: Look for a professional dog sitter near me with a track record—TC Tails, for instance, boasts decades of pet care know-how.

Read Reviews: Feedback on dog sitter services (like Jared’s 5-star testimonials) shows reliability and care quality.

Match Needs: Got a high-energy pup or a special needs dog sitter case? Ensure the sitter fits—like TC Tails’ flexibility for all dogs.

Meet First: A quick chat confirms your dog sitter Traverse City is a good vibe for your furry friend.

Planning a holiday? A dog sitter while on holiday should offer updates and adaptability—key traits of dog sitting Traverse City pros like TC Tails.

Conclusion

The rise of in-home dog sitting Traverse City is more than a trend—it’s a lifestyle shift that’s here to stay in 2025. With benefits like comfort, tailored care, and local trust, dog sitters Traverse City are outpacing kennels, giving dogs and owners a better way to thrive. From special needs dog sitter support to dog sitter while on holiday flexibility, this movement—led by stars like TC Tails—is rewriting pet care in Northern Michigan.

Ready to join the wave? Book your dog sitting services with TC Tails today—call 231-499-4048 or visit tctails.com. Your pup deserves the best dog sitter Traverse City has to offer—let’s make their next stay a tail-wagging success!

[darcydarlingdabbles]

At Valentine’s Day~ Part 17 -  I Do

RadioApple🩷Human Au/Age Gap🩷Top!Dom!Alastor

🩷Divorced Dad!Lucifer🩷Explicit

White lace, a smile, a hand held tight, A moment perfect, a love so right. One word to bind, one love so true, For all our days, I do, I do, I do. 

🩷🩷🩷

❣️Ao3❣️Original Fics (1 Year Free)❣️Tumblr❣️

Lucifer's fingers curled around the wrought-iron balcony railing, the metal cool against his palms.

Below, a sea of red, white, and pink blossoms swayed in the gentle breeze, dotting the sprawling gardens of Morningstar Mansion. The scent of roses wafted up, mingling with the crisp autumn air.

He watched as staff members scurried about like industrious ants, their voices a distant hum. Rosie barked orders, her clipboard a shield against the chaos.

"Mr. Morningstar?" A timid voice called from behind him. "We need your approval on the final seating arrangement."

Lucifer turned, forcing a warm smile. "Of course. Just…give me a moment, please."

As the coordinator retreated, Lucifer's gaze drifted back to the gardens.

The gazebo stood proudly at its heart, a vision of twinkling fairy lights and billowing silk drapery. His throat tightened.

Charlie was getting married today. His little girl.

He closed his eyes, inhaling deeply. The sweet fragrance of flowers mingled with the earthy scent of fresh-cut grass, grounding him in the present.

"Dad?" Charlie's voice, bright as ever, cut through his reverie. "Are you hiding up here?"

Lucifer turned, his heart swelling at the sight of his daughter. Her blonde hair was already styled, cascading over her shoulders in soft waves.

"Just…taking it all in, Char-Char," he managed, his voice thick with emotion.

Charlie's eyes softened. She crossed the balcony, enveloping him in a warm hug. "It's a lot, isn't it?"

"You have no idea." Lucifer chuckled, the sound slightly watery.

"Are you okay?" Charlie pulled back, searching his face. "You're not having second thoughts about walking me down the aisle, are you?"

"No, no," Lucifer assured her quickly. "I wouldn't miss it for the world. It's just…"

"Just what, Dad?"

Lucifer sighed, running a hand through his slightly disheveled hair. "I keep thinking about how fast time has flown. It feels like yesterday you were learning to walk, and now…"

"And now I'm getting married. But I'll always be your little girl, you know that, right?" Charlie squeezed his hand.

"I know, sweetie.” Lucifer nodded, swallowing hard. “I'm just being a sentimental old fool."

"You're allowed," Charlie grinned, her enthusiasm infectious. "It's my wedding day, after all!"

Lucifer laughed, feeling some of the tension leave his shoulders. And it's going to be perfect, Charlie. I promise."

As they turned to head back inside, Lucifer cast one last glance at the gardens below.

The gazebo stood waiting, a symbol of new beginnings. And for once, the ache in his chest felt more like pride than loss.

Inside the mansion, Alastor stood before an ornate mirror, his reflection a study in scarlet.

The perfectly tailored suit hugged his lean frame, the rich color a stark contrast to his dark skin. He reached for his cufflinks, willing his hands to remain steady.

"Damn," he muttered, fumbling with the delicate silver pieces. "Get it together."

Alastor's eyes met his own gaze in the mirror, noting the slight tension in his jaw. He took a deep breath, allowing a hint of vulnerability to show in the privacy of the room.

"It's just a wedding," he told his reflection, his usual smooth confidence wavering slightly. "Charlie's wedding. Nothing to be nervous about."

But as he finished with the cufflinks, Alastor couldn't help but wonder if his anxiety stemmed from more than just the day's events.

His thoughts drifted to Lucifer, to the weight of what this day meant for him.

Alastor's fingers lingered on his tie, smoothing imaginary wrinkles. His reflection stared back, composed as ever, but his eyes betrayed a flicker of something deeper.

He exhaled slowly, centering himself.

"Charlie's happiness," he murmured, his rich voice barely audible. "That's what matters today. No distractions. No tension."

A soft knock interrupted his thoughts.

The door opened, and Lucifer stepped in, a vision in classic black. Alastor's breath caught imperceptibly as their eyes met in the mirror.

"Well, don't you clean up nicely," Alastor quipped, his signature smirk sliding into place.

Lucifer chuckled, moving closer. "I could say the same for you. Red's always been your color."

Alastor turned, facing Lucifer directly.

The blonde's hair was slightly tousled, and Alastor resisted the urge to smooth it.

Instead, he focused on the red rose adorning Lucifer's lapel, a vibrant splash of color against the dark suit.

Without thinking, Alastor reached out, adjusting Lucifer's already perfect tie. His fingers brushed against Lucifer's chest, lingering a moment too long.

Lucifer's golden eyes softened. He leaned into Alastor's touch, savoring the brief moment of connection.

"Are you ready?" Lucifer asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Alastor's lips curled into a smirk, but his eyes remained gentle. "Are you?" he countered, raising an eyebrow.

The tension between them shifted, morphing into something warmer, more intimate. Lucifer chuckled softly, shaking his head. "Touché."

Alastor exhaled slowly, allowing his carefully maintained composure to slip just a fraction.

He leaned in, pressing a tender kiss to Lucifer's temple.

"Let's get through today," Alastor murmured against Lucifer's skin, his breath stirring a few errant strands of golden hair.

Lucifer closed his eyes, drinking in the moment.

His heart raced, anticipation for the day ahead and the ever-present spark that Alastor ignited within him.

"Together?" Lucifer asked, his voice tinged with hope and a hint of vulnerability.

Alastor pulled back slightly, meeting Lucifer's gaze. His hazel eyes sparkled with affection and determination. "Always, darling.”

The gardens of Morningstar Mansion stretched before him, a sea of red, white, and pink blooms swaying gently in the evening breeze.

The setting sun painted the sky in warm hues of gold and amber, casting a magical glow over the assembled guests.

"It's beautiful," Lucifer murmured, his golden eyes scanning the crowd. "More than I could have imagined."

The soft swell of music filled the air, signaling the start of the ceremony.

Lucifer's heart quickened, pride and bittersweet nostalgia washing over him.

Cherri sauntered down the aisle, her vibrant pink hair a stark contrast to the elegant red dress she wore. Her hips swayed with each step, drawing eyes from the crowd.

As she passed the third row, she caught sight of a familiar face and couldn't resist.

"Hey there, hot stuff," Cherri purred, throwing a saucy wink that had its intended recipient blushing furiously.

Beside her, Lute's brow furrowed in concentration. "Left foot, right foot," she muttered under his breath, hergaze fixed firmly on the ground.

Lucifer watched as Alastor emerged from the mansion, and offered his arm to Emily.

"Look at him," Lucifer murmured to himself, unable to tear his gaze away from Alastor's tall, lean figure.

The scarlet suit hugged Alastor's frame perfectly, his dark curls neatly styled.

Emily, resplendent in a flowing pink gown, matched Alastor's grace step for step.

Almost time.

A wave of emotion threatened to overwhelm Lucifer, but he took a deep breath, channeling Alastor's earlier composure. "We've got this," he whispered to himself, ready to take his place in the procession and walk his daughter down the aisle.

As the pair reached the altar, Vaggie emerged from the mansion, her arm linked with Anthony's.

She held her head high, her long black hair cascading down her back in loose waves. The fitted white dress he wore accentuated her petite figure, and her single visible eye sparkled with determination.

"You know," Anthony whispered, a grin playing on his lips, "I bet Charlie's gonna faint when she sees you."

"Shut up," Vaggie's composed expression cracked, her eye rolling skyward. "I swear, if you make me laugh right now…"

"What? It'd be memorable," Anthony teased, his grin widening.

Vaggie bit her lip, torn between exasperation and amusement.

"Just get me to the altar in one piece, okay?" she murmured, giving his arm a squeeze.

Anthony's expression softened. "You got it, toots. Charlie's one lucky girl."

The music shifted, a gentle swell of strings filling the air. Lucifer's breath caught in his throat, his heart hammering against his ribs.

The moment he'd been anticipating—and dreading—had finally arrived.

The mansion doors swung open, and Lucifer's world seemed to stop.

There, framed in the golden light of the setting sun, stood Charlie. His little girl, now a radiant bride.

Charlie stepped forward, her movements graceful and assured.

The white lace suit she wore was a masterpiece, tailored to fit her perfectly with elegance and sophistication.

It was modern, yet timeless—perfectly suited to Charlie's vibrant personality.

As she drew closer, Lucifer's breath caught in his throat.

The intricate lace pattern, the delicate beadwork along the lapels—he recognized it instantly.

Lucifer's heart swelled with pride and love.

The suit was a perfect blend of old and new, just like Charlie herself.

As Charlie reached him, Lucifer noticed other details that took his breath away. Her blonde hair, so like his own, was styled in soft waves that framed her face.

A delicate tiara, adorned with tiny diamonds and rubies, nestled atop her head—a Morningstar family heirloom.

"You look…" Lucifer began, struggling to find words adequate enough. "Absolutely stunning, Charlie."

Charlie's smile widened, a hint of her usual exuberance breaking through her composure. "Thanks, Dad," she said, reaching out to straighten his bowtie. "You clean up pretty well yourself."

Lucifer chuckled, the sound slightly watery.

He offered his arm, and Charlie took it, her touch warm and reassuring.

As they prepared to walk down the aisle, Lucifer was struck by the perfect balance Charlie had achieved.

"Ready?" Charlie asked, giving his arm a gentle squeeze.

Lucifer took a deep breath, drinking in the sight of his daughter one last time before they began their walk.

The way the lace shimmered in the fading sunlight, the subtle apple blossom perfume that was so uniquely Charlie, the love and joy radiating from her very being—he committed it all to memory.

"Ready," he replied, his voice steady despite the whirlwind of emotions inside him.

"I'm so proud of you," he breathed, his words meant for her ears alone.

As they took their first step down the aisle, Lucifer was acutely aware of every eye in the garden turning towards them.

The weight of their gazes should have been overwhelming, but he found he couldn't look away from Charlie.

Her radiance outshone everything else.

With each step, memories flooded through him—Charlie's first words, her infectious laughter, the way she'd always seen the best in everyone.

Now here she was, walking towards her own happily ever after.

At least he’d done one thing right.

"Dad," Charlie whispered, squeezing his hand. "You're crying."

Lucifer blinked, not bothering to wipe them away. "Happy tears, sweetheart. Just happy tears."

As they reached the altar, Lucifer's gaze shifted to Vaggie. The transformation that came over her face was breathtaking. Her usual sharp edges softened, melting away like snow in spring.

Her eyes, usually so guarded, now shone with pure, unadulterated love as they locked onto Charlie.

"You ready?" Lucifer asked softly, giving Charlie's hand a final squeeze.

Charlie beamed up at him, her eyes sparkling with unshed tears. "More than ever," she replied, her voice steady and sure.

Lucifer leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to Charlie's forehead. The scent of her jasmine perfume enveloped him, a bittersweet reminder of how quickly she'd grown up. He lingered for just a moment, savoring the feel of her silky hair against his cheek.

"I love you, Char-Char," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

Charlie's arms wrapped around him in a fierce hug. "I love you too, Dad," she murmured.

As Lucifer stepped back, his heart swelled.

Charlie stood tall, radiating confidence and joy. This was her moment, her choice, her home.

He took his place on the front row, eager to watch Charlie get her happily ever after.

Alastor's keen gaze taking in every detail. Anthony, resplendent in a perfectly tailored suit, cleared his throat dramatically.

With a flourish that would make any ringmaster proud, he raised his arms.

"Alright, folks," Anthony's voice rang out, "let's get these two beautiful disasters married!"

A ripple of laughter swept through the gathered guests.

Alastor felt the corners of his mouth twitch upward, charmed despite himself by Anthony's theatrical flair.

The atmosphere crackled with warmth and anticipation, love hanging thick in the air like the perfume of a thousand roses.

As Anthony continued his heartfelt, if slightly irreverent, opening, Alastor allowed himself a moment of reflection.

The joy radiating from Charlie and Vaggie was palpable, a reminder of the beauty that could bloom even in the most unlikely of places.

His gaze drifted to Lucifer, noting the play of emotions across his face—pride, love, and just a hint of melancholy.

Vaggie stepped forward, her eyes locked on Charlie.

The usual sharpness in her gaze had melted into something softer, more vulnerable. She took a deep breath, her hands trembling slightly as she unfolded a piece of paper.

"Charlie," Vaggie began, her voice steady despite the emotion threading through it. "You're loud. You're too happy. And you're the best thing that's ever happened to me."

A collective chuckle rippled through the crowd, but Vaggie wasn't finished.

Her lips curved into a tender smirk as she continued, "You drive me crazy in all the best ways. Your optimism infuriates me, but it's also what I love most about you. You see the good in everyone, even when I'm determined to see the worst. You're my balance, my light, my home."

Charlie's eyes welled with tears, her smile so bright it rivaled the sun.

As Vaggie finished, Charlie reached out, squeezing her hands tightly.

When it was Charlie's turn, she didn't need any paper.

Her eyes shone with unshed tears as she gazed at Vaggie, her voice filled with love and laughter. "

Vaggie, my grumpy guardian angel," she began, eliciting another wave of chuckles from the audience. "I promise to always see the good in you, even when you're grumpy about it. I vow to be your sunshine on the cloudiest days, to hold your hand through every storm, and to love you fiercely, completely, and eternally."

Charlie paused, her expression softening.

"You ground me, you protect me, and you make me want to be the best version of myself. I promise to always fight for us, to choose you every day, and to never stop trying to make you smile."

As Charlie finished, Vaggie's usually stoic demeanor cracked, a single tear rolling down her cheek.

The two women stood there, lost in each other's eyes

Emily's heart raced as she stepped forward, the weight of the rings feeling impossibly heavy in her trembling hands. The cool metal pressed against her sweaty palms as she focused intently on the short distance between herself and Anthony.

Anthony's eyes twinkled with mischief as he watched her approach. "Steady there, butterfingers," he whispered, just loud enough for Emily to hear.

Emily's eyes widened in panic. "Anthony, don't—" she hissed, her concentration breaking for a split second.

In that moment, her fingers fumbled, and the rings slipped from her grasp. And the crowd gasped.

But before anyone could react further, Alastor gracefully stepped forward. He plucked both rings from the air, his long fingers closing around them securely.

Anthony's playful glare cut through the tension. "You had one job," he quipped, his tone light despite the near-disaster.

Lucifer felt his breath catch, watching Alastor's composed intervention.

The way Alastor's eyes sparkled with amusement behind his glasses, the slight quirk of his lips—it all screamed effortless control.

Alastor turned, presenting the rings to Anthony with a slight bow.

"Smooth as ever," Lucifer murmured, unable to keep the admiration from his voice.

He caught Alastor's eye, sharing a private smile that felt electric, even amidst the crowded ceremony.

Anthony accepted the rings with a flourish. "And that, folks, is why we keep him around," he announced to the chuckling guests, diffusing any remaining tension.

Lucifer's chest swelled with emotion as Anthony's demeanor shifted. The usual playful glint in his eyes softened, replaced by a depth of sincerity.

The garden fell silent, hanging on Anthony's every word.

"Marriage isn't about being perfect," Anthony began, his voice carrying across the hushed crowd. "It's about being imperfect together. About choosing each other, even when it's hard."

Lucifer's gaze drifted to Charlie, her eyes shining with unshed tears. His little girl, all grown up. A bittersweet ache bloomed in his chest as Anthony continued.

"Charlie, Vaggie, you've already made that choice a hundred times. Today, you just make it official."

Anthony turned to Vaggie, a hint of his usual mischief returning. "Do you, Vaggie, take Charlie to be your utterly ridiculous wife?"

Vaggie's trademark smirk played at her lips, but Lucifer saw the tenderness in her eyes as she gazed at Charlie.

"Obviously," she replied, her voice thick with emotion.

Anthony turned to Charlie, his grin softening as he met her eager gaze. "Charlie, do you take Vaggie to be your grumpy, sarcastic, but ridiculously devoted wife?"

Charlie's face lit up, her smile as radiant as the sun itself. "Forever and always," she beamed, her voice brimming with joy and certainty.

Lucifer's heart swelled with pride, seeing the depth of love shining in his daughter's eyes.

Anthony paused, savoring the moment. "Then by the power vested in me—" he began, his dramatic flair returning full force. He held the silence, building anticipation until the air practically crackled with excitement.

"—and by the sheer amount of effort it took to plan this damn wedding—" Anthony continued, eliciting a ripple of laughter from the crowd. "You may now kiss your bride."

The words had barely left Anthony's lips before Charlie launched herself at Vaggie, enthusiasm nearly knocking them both off balance.

Vaggie steadied them, her usual composure melting into a smile of pure adoration.

The garden erupted into cheers, a joyous cacophony that matched the fireworks Lucifer felt exploding in his chest.

He laughed, tears finally spilling over as he watched his daughter, radiant and in love, begin this new chapter of her life.

The roar of applause faded into the soft strains of a string quartet, the melody weaving through the twilight air like gossamer threads.

Lucifer blinked, his vision blurring as he watched Charlie and Vaggie sway together, lost in their own world.

Vaggie’s laughter rang out, clear and bright, as Charlie dipped her dramatically. Their foreheads touched, matching grins spreading across their faces.

❣️Ao3❣️Original Fics (1 Year Free)❣️Tumblr❣️

[libbycurtiswebb]

Forest Walking Therapy: A Path to Inner Peace and Wellness

In today's fast-paced world, finding a moment to reconnect with nature can feel like a luxury. However, it is in nature where we often rediscover our balance, inner peace, and physical well-being. "Forest walking therapy" is a growing trend in holistic wellness that provides these benefits and more. In this article, we’ll explore the concept, benefits, and how Libby Curti's Webb is transforming lives through specialized forest walking therapy programs.

What is Forest Walking Therapy?

Forest walking therapy, also known as forest bathing or Shinrin-Yoku, is the practice of immersing oneself in a forest environment for relaxation and rejuvenation. This therapeutic approach goes beyond a simple stroll in the woods; it is a mindful, intentional connection with nature to heal the body and mind.

The Essence of Forest Walking Therapy

At its core, forest walking therapy focuses on slowing down and engaging all your senses. Participants are encouraged to take deep breaths, touch the bark of trees, listen to the rustling leaves, and absorb the serenity of the surroundings.

Origin and Popularity

This practice originated in Japan in the 1980s as a response to increasing urbanization and stress. Today, it has gained global recognition for its profound physical and mental health benefits.

Benefits of Forest Walking Therapy

The therapeutic effects of forest walking therapy are backed by science and personal experiences alike. Here’s what makes it a transformative practice:

Physical Health Benefits

Forest walking therapy can lower blood pressure, reduce cortisol levels, and improve cardiovascular health. The fresh air and gentle exercise contribute to better overall fitness.

Mental Health Benefits

This therapy is a natural stress-reliever. Spending time in forests helps reduce anxiety, depression, and feelings of burnout. The tranquil environment fosters mindfulness and clarity.

Connection with Nature

Incorporating nature into your routine can enhance your appreciation for the environment, encouraging sustainable practices and a deeper sense of gratitude.

Why Choose Libby Curti's Webb for Forest Walking Therapy?

When it comes to embracing forest walking therapy, Libby Curti's Webb stands out as a trusted name in the USA. With years of experience in holistic wellness, the programs offered by Libby combine mindfulness, nature immersion, and personalized guidance.

Expert-Led Sessions

Each session is led by trained professionals who understand the science and art of forest walking therapy. This ensures participants receive maximum benefits in a safe, structured setting.

Tailored Experiences

Libby Curti's Webb offers customized programs that cater to individual needs, whether you’re seeking stress relief, improved focus, or a deeper connection with nature.

Accessible Locations

The programs are conducted in some of the most serene and accessible forested areas in the USA, ensuring convenience without compromising on the quality of the experience.

How to Prepare for a Forest Walking Therapy Session

For those new to the concept, preparation can enhance the experience. Here are some tips to make the most of your session:

Dress Comfortably: Wear weather-appropriate, breathable clothing and sturdy walking shoes.

Pack Essentials: Carry water, a small snack, and any personal necessities.

Leave Technology Behind: Minimize distractions by keeping your phone on silent or leaving it behind.

Set Intentions: Take a moment to reflect on what you hope to achieve from the session.

Testimonials: The Impact of Forest Walking Therapy

Participants from across the USA have shared their transformative experiences with Libby Curti's Webb:

Sarah T.: “Forest walking therapy with Libby changed my perspective on stress management. It’s like hitting the reset button for my mind.”

Michael R.: “The guided sessions helped me reconnect with myself and nature in ways I never thought possible.”

Emma W.: “I can’t recommend Libby Curti's Webb enough. The personalized approach made me feel seen and valued.”

Incorporating Forest Walking Therapy into Your Life

Forest walking therapy isn’t just a one-time experience; it’s a lifestyle choice. Regular sessions can lead to long-lasting benefits, helping you cultivate a mindful, balanced approach to life.

Start Small

Begin by dedicating a few hours each week to forest walking. Over time, this can become a meaningful routine.

Join a Community

Connecting with like-minded individuals through programs like those offered by Libby Curti's Webb can enhance the experience.

Explore New Locations

Diversity in surroundings keeps the practice fresh and exciting. The USA offers a variety of stunning forests perfect for therapy.

Where to Learn More

If you’re ready to experience the life-changing benefits of forest walking therapy, visit the official Libby Curti's Webb website. Here, you’ll find detailed information about available programs, session schedules, and how to book your spot.

Conclusion

Forest walking therapy is more than just a wellness trend; it’s a proven method to improve physical and mental health. By choosing Libby Curti's Webb, you’re not just embarking on a walk in the woods; you’re investing in your holistic well-being. Embrace the power of nature and discover how forest walking therapy can transform your life today.

[alisondentaldesign]

Transform Your Smile: Teeth Straightening at Docklands Dental House in London

In a bustling city like London, where every smile tells a story, having straight teeth can make all the difference. Whether it's for confidence in social situations or a boost in professional settings, a radiant smile can leave a lasting impression. However, achieving that perfect smile often requires a bit of assistance, which is where Docklands Dental House steps in, offering cutting-edge teeth straightening solutions tailored to your needs.

Located in the heart of London, Docklands Dental House is renowned for its commitment to delivering exceptional dental care in a warm and welcoming environment. With a team of experienced professionals dedicated to staying at the forefront of dental technology and techniques, they provide personalized treatment plans to help you achieve the smile you've always wanted.

One of the most sought-after services at Docklands Dental House is teeth straightening. Traditional braces might come to mind, but the advancements in dental technology have revolutionized the way teeth can be aligned. Here are some of the innovative teeth straightening options available at Docklands Dental House:

1. Invisalign: Say goodbye to metal braces and hello to clear aligners. Invisalign offers a discreet and comfortable way to straighten your teeth without the hassle of brackets and wires. Custom-made aligners gradually shift your teeth into place, allowing you to achieve a stunning smile with minimal disruption to your daily life.

2. Lingual Braces: For those who require a more comprehensive treatment, lingual braces provide an effective solution. Unlike traditional braces that are affixed to the front of your teeth, lingual braces are placed on the backside, making them virtually invisible. This option is ideal for individuals who want to straighten their teeth discreetly.

3. Clear Braces: Clear braces combine the effectiveness of traditional braces with a more aesthetic appeal. Made from translucent materials, they blend seamlessly with your natural tooth color, offering a subtle way to correct misalignments and achieve a beautiful smile.

4. Fast Braces: As the name suggests, fast braces offer a quicker solution for those looking to straighten their teeth in a shorter amount of time. With innovative technology and gentle yet effective treatment, fast braces can deliver noticeable results in a matter of months, making them an ideal choice for patients with busy lifestyles.

What sets Docklands Dental House apart is their commitment to providing personalized care every step of the way. From the initial consultation to the final adjustment, their team takes the time to understand your unique needs and concerns, ensuring that you feel comfortable and confident throughout your teeth straightening journey.

Moreover, Docklands Dental House prioritizes patient education, empowering you with the knowledge and resources to maintain your oral health long after your treatment is complete. With guidance on proper oral hygiene practices and regular check-ups, they strive to ensure that your newly straightened smile remains healthy and radiant for years to come.

In conclusion, if you're considering teeth straightening in London, Docklands Dental House is the place to be. With their state-of-the-art facilities, experienced professionals, and innovative treatment options, you can trust them to transform your smile and boost your confidence. Book your consultation today and take the first step towards a brighter, straighter smile!

Docklands Dental House

51-53 Barking Road

Canning Town

London

E16 4HB

United Kingdom

info@docklandsdentalhouse.co.uk

Dentist Docklands & Canning Town - Dentist Near Me (docklandsdentalhouse.co.uk)

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[hoesoflamentation]

K!nktober: That's an order. | Leviathan x GN!MC | 18+

Prompt: Uniform k!nk

Pairing: Leviathan x GN!MC

Warnings: (sort of mutual) masturbation, uniform k!nk, dom!Levi, heavy degradation (use of "bitch," "slut," "whore"), praise k!nk, fingering, hair pulling, finger sucking, mouth covering, dacryphilia, choking, bruising, slight voyeurism/dubcon (listening to someone without their permission)

A/N: holy hell, fam -- i need to go touch some fucking grass. admiral levi horny hours have hit me HARD and i may never recover. it's a long one. brace yourselves.

Laying on their side, MC shifted uncomfortably in bed, thighs rubbing together as they tried unsuccessfully to ignore their growing arousal -- and the scandalous thoughts that ran through their head.

That evening, MC had gotten home from RAD at the same time that Levi was leaving. Lucifer was busy, so Lord Diavolo had asked Levi to accompany him to a party in his place...

...and because it was a formal occasion, Levi had been wearing his naval uniform.

The brothers had often alluded to Levi's prestigious position in Hell's Navy, which Levi found mortifying. His ears flushed red with embarrassment every time someone brought it up, making him a blushy, stammering mess.

While MC was vaguely aware that Levi had obligations as an officer, he took precautions to avoid them whenever he had to put on his uniform -- so this accidental run-in was the first time MC had seen him in full regalia.

The tailored gray jacket accentuated the lean muscles Levi typically hid beneath his baggy clothes. Several medals decorated his breast, making MC wonder how he had earned them.

Dressed like this, the second-born seemed to stand a little bit straighter. However, any gravitas the uniform gave him disappeared the second he made eye contact with MC.

"M-MC!" Levi stuttered, his cheeks turning red enough to match the piping on his jacket. "You weren't supposed to see me like this!"

Unexpectedly, seeing Levi dressed like this... did something to MC. Freezing in their tracks, they instantly forgot how to use words, their tongue turning to putty in their mouth.

MC barely managed to squeak "bye Levi! Say hi to Diavolo for me!" before scurrying into the safety of the House of Lamentation. Their heart pounded wildly in their chest as they slammed the door and leaned back against it to catch their breath.

Now, laying in bed, MC couldn't help themself from replaying every detail of that moment. They had always thought that Levi was cute, but this was the first time he had made them feel so needy for something more.

Thinking about him kept them awake for what felt like hours, and it was driving them crazy.

The thing was, Levi was the first person they had truly connected with during their time in the Devildom (whatever Mammon said about being their "first," it had always been Levi for them). No matter how they felt about Levi, they couldn't just show up at their best friend's door, begging him to fulfill their fantasy of fucking an officer in uniform...

Yet they also realized that what Levi didn't know wouldn't hurt him. And in their imagination, they were free to let him do whatever he wanted.

So, their hand wandered down their chest, their stomach, to the throbbing space between their legs, teasing their most sensitive spot with their fingertips as they thought about his body on theirs...

Everything on the desk clattered to the floor as Levi reached around them and swept his hand across the tabletop in one fell swoop. The gold buttons on his uniform jacket glimmered in the dim light of the lamp, reflecting MC's desperate expression back to them.

"That's 'sir' to you," Levi barked, shoving MC into the now-empty table. "When you speak to an officer, you'll address him with respect."

Emitting a primal growl, Levi dug his claws into MC's hips, turning them to face away so their back lay flush against his throbbing cock. His arms wound around their waist, his calloused hands wandering up their torso until one found its way around their throat.

Breathlessly, MC managed to choke out the words, "Yes, sir."

They let out a tortured gasp as Levi clenched their neck, hard. Bruises in the shape of his fingertips were already beginning to form beneath his brutal grip.

"Bend over," Levi snarled. "That's an order."

Before MC could obey, Levi's hand was on their back, forcing their chest onto the desktop. They turned their head to one side, whimpering as the demon carelessly yanked a fistful of their hair.

"Mm, I love your pathetic little moans," Levi cooed, unbuckling his belt with his free hand. "You want it so badly, don't you? You fucking slut."

MC could already feel tears dampening their lashes, making their cheeks as wet as the space between their legs. "Please, Le- I mean, sir... I n-need you."

"Use your words, baby," he mocked cruelly. "What part of me do you need?"

"N-need your cock inside of me," they mumbled into the desk, their hips involuntarily grinding against his hardened length through his boxers. "W-wanna be your cumslut."

"That's my good little whore-" Levi bent to lay a series of affectionate kisses on their neck, sending shivers down their spine. "-showing your master the respect he deserves."

A high-pitched whine slipped from MC's lips as Levi roughly yanked their bottoms down.

"Suck," he ordered, reaching around to hook two fingers into their mouth.

Obediently, MC wrapped their lips around them, slobbering over them with their tongue to prep them for entry. But before drawing his fingers from their mouth, Levi first shoved them deeper into their throat, pushing past their tonsils until he felt the protest of their gag reflex.

The tears they had been trying to hold in immediately streamed down their cheeks. MC couldn't help but moan as they choked around his hand. Combined with the sight of them crying desperately, the noise made Levi smirk in satisfaction.

"That's it, baby," he praised, reaching around to slip his two lubed fingers into their hole. "You're doing so well."

They let out a tortured sob, bracing themself by gripping the edge of the desk as Levi pumped in and out.

"Aw, look how badly you want me," Levi teased mercilessly. "You're so desperate. I'm not even inside you yet."

Though his movements were aggressive, he still managed to glide his fingertips across every sensitive spot in their hole with each thrust of his hand.

Already, MC could feel the heat gathering in their core -- and Levi could tell.

"Mm, you're such a little whore. You just can't help yourself around me, can you?"

MC shrieked in surprise as Levi began to fuck them faster and harder with his fingers. He yanked them closer by their hair, eventually releasing his grip on it so he could cover their mouth with his hand.

"Shut up and cum for me, bitch," Levi growled. "Let's see how well you can keep quiet."

The feeling of being completely under his control, physically and emotionally, sent another gush of arousal straight to their pleasure spot. Something about fucking him in his uniform, and hearing him treat them with such irreverence, made them feral with lust.

They barely managed to whimper, "Y-yes, sir," as their walls clenched around Levi's fingers, his pace unrelenting even as it started to make them feel painfully sensitive.

"Fuck, Levi! You make me feel so good."

MC's thighs shook as they milked an intense orgasm from between their legs, writhing beneath their sheets. The fantasy was so vivid, so realistic, that they could practically feel Levi's hand covering their mouth, his breath warm and inviting against the nape of their neck.

But as the wave of pleasure dwindled, MC's cheeks grew instantly hot as they realized they had cried Levi's name aloud. Panicking, they yanked their pajama pants back on and dashed to the door, peering carefully into the hallway through a small crack.

They sighed in relief as they recognized that all the lights were off in the hallway, meaning the demon brothers were probably fast asleep (with the exception of Lucifer, who rarely slept -- but whose office was far enough from MC's room that he likely hadn't heard them, either).

With their little problem taken care of, MC was finally able to relax. They collapsed into bed and turned off the lamp on their nightstand, ready to drift into a peaceful sleep, when they were startled by a deep groan from beyond the wall:

"Yes, MC! That's it. Cum for me, baby..."

In the room next door, Levi had heard everything -- and when he realized they were fantasizing about him, he simply couldn't stop himself from stroking himself off to the sound of MC's pathetic cries.

Spurts of his seed streamed onto his bare stomach as his cheeks burned with embarrassment at the realization that he had said their name aloud.

Levi was absolutely mortified at the fact he was doing this at all, let alone the idea that his best friend might have heard him moaning their name...

Until he heard MC knock on his door, ready to make their shared fantasy into a reality.

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[land-of-appletun-and-anime]

Mask & Scepter, a short Pokemon crossover

An orange dog Pokemon came running up to Allister, startling him with a poke of its nose. Everyone else in the bustling city of Mesagoza had kept their distance, no doubt because of his mask, and he didn't mind the privacy. This little guy seemed to feel differently. It appeared to be friendly enough, so he squatted down and spoke softly to the fascinating Pokemon.

"You're really made of bread. That's mad." he said, getting a bark in response. "I've seen Dachsbun before but you're the first one I've met in person."

Gengar's mischievous chuckle announced its arrival before it actually solidified next to him. It presented something long and shiny.

"What's this?" he asked, examining a metallic scepter roughly a meter long with a Pokéball at its head and what looked like two simple wings protruding from just beneath the ball. Were they insect wings? Or maybe the ends of an elegantly tied handkerchief? Either way, Allister knew Gengar hadn't just found it lying around.

"Where did you-" before Allister could finish his question, a boy around his age came running toward him from the direction of the massive staircase that lead to the central feature of Mesagoza. It was clear from the boy's shoes, metal shining in warm colors from the setting sun, that the scepter belonged to him, but even without them there would've been no question. In contrast to the casual clothes of everyone else here, he wore a tailored suit colored the softest pink, with white frills framing the exposed triangle of elegant shirt beneath. It was complete with white gloves and coattails flailing behind him as he ran.  He didn't sound like a high-class little gentleman, though.

"Give that BACK! It's mi- AH! What the HECK is with that mask? It's seriously creepy!"

"I-I'm sorry. I'm really shy," Allister responded quietly,  "but if people can't see my face, I feel a lot more comfortable in public."

"You really need to speak up. Anyway, that belongs to me. I passed by earlier and your Pokemon stole it and swapped it out so I wouldn't notice."

"Gengar! Um, I'm sorry. He likes to play pranks on people."

Gengar appeared looking ashamed and took the scepter from its trainer, but instead of returning it to its owner, the Pokémon vanished again and began floating the scepter around the boy in an uneven and everchanging orbit, just out of his reach, and chuckling while doing it. The boy spun around grabbing after his scepter with increasing agitation as Dachsbun, apparently belonging to him, watched playfully with a wagging bun. The clean lines of the boy's perfectly styled pink-brown hair were quickly disappearing, leaving a disheveled mess atop the undercut below. When he'd had enough, the boy pressed his arms straight against his sides with fists curled upward in frustration. He stomped on the ground flamboyantly with one shining shoe.

"That's ENOUGH! You are the most annoying Pokemon EVER!" he fumed.

"Gengar, give it back," Allister instructed his Pokemon.

The scepter then vanished altogether and Gengar appeared before the boy. When the Pokemon opened its spacious mouth, the ends of the scepter stuck very obviously out from the center of its rolled up tongue. Gengar rolled its large tongue out like a carpet, presenting the scepter. The boy made a disgusted sound and produced a white handkerchief with which he took his possession back. Gengar chuckled again once out of sight.

"I'm wicked sorry," Allister said, more nervous now than ever.

The boy produced a Luxury Ball, black with red and gold metallic accents, and sent out another unfamiliar Pokémon. This one was mostly bright blue and rabbit-like, standing upright with tall ears over an ellipsoid body. A bright blue ball of a tail bobbed cheerfully in the evening air. The Pokémon loosed a cloud of sparkling bubbles in which the boy cleaned his scepter, holding it by the end with the handkerchief like it was something smelly and unpleasant.

"Who are you, anyway?" the boy asked while working.

" M' Allister. From Galar. I'm a Gym Leader there."

"A Gym Leader? Okaaaay. I'm Ortega. Let's have a battle. We’ll see how you measure up to a Team Star Boss!"

"Y-yeah! Let's battle!" Allister felt the cold presence of Gengar close to him again and wondered if it had just wanted the boys to be friends all along.