#it keeps happening its happened twice now

[mykuup]

DIE PRΛNDIVM (𝙂𝙤𝙙'𝙨 𝙢𝙚𝙖𝙡) part 2

Part 1

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My Masterlist

Summary : After tasting you in the dining room, Geta is even more starved and nothing can stop a hungry emperor.

wc : 2.9k

Warnings : SMUT // DARK (read at your own risk) // oral (f receiving) // power play // dub con non con // blood // fingering (f receiving) // pain sex // anal play (f receiving) // virgin reader // BDSM // servant reader // afab reader (but no description) // porn without plot

A/n : I AM BACK (kind of 😅)!!! I am so sorry for the hiatus but my life went crazy and I had to deal with tons of stuff 💀 I tried my best to keep writing but I lost the mojo and now I think that every word I write is shit but y'know... I'm trying my best here 🤷‍♀️

I hope that this second part will please you. Idk if I'm OOC but I wanted to try something darker with our crazy ginger emperor!

No proofread we die like the emperor's sanity 🤪😂

Also, I'm working on a long fic but I need time to go back to my normal writing pace again.

ilysm, thank you for everything 💜💜💜

Taglist : @byronking @stardancerluv @preparedfruit @userchai @helsa3942 @analves @justnobodynothingmore @silentwhisper666 @deliciousfestsalad @25bohemianmoons @saphirmoraitie @claudialioncourtdulac @phobobobophobia @koshkahhh @noblenighttime @moon-390

You put back your tunic in haste, fruit juices sticking on your skin and your own release still dripping from between your legs. Without a glance at the young emperor, you took the heavy platter with you and exited the dining room. Your cheeks were bright red and you were still dizzy from your high. What just happened? You couldn’t believe you came under the expert touch of Geta himself. You weren’t a concubine nor his wife, you were just a humble servant, you couldn’t let that happen again. So on your way to Geta’s room, you went to one of his favorite concubine’s bedrooms to ask for help. She would bring the platter to Geta and he will fuck her. That was your plan. But you got caught before you could even knock on her door.

‘What are you doing here?’ you heard Geta’s voice resonating in the marble corridor. He sounded angry. ‘Don’t you even dare to touch that door,’ he warned you, his death stare looking at you. You froze, unsure why he was so upset, the souvenir of his soft touch still fresh in your mind. You stumble upon your words, trying to explain what was your plan.

‘But, Your Highness, I’m doing this for you. I-she can…’

‘Run,’ he simply said. You look at him, baffled, like a deer in front of its hunter. His smirk widens seeing the fear in your eyes. He loved the way you were scared of him, of his power and he was ready to play tonight. He looked at you from head to toe and licked his lips, remnants of your juices mixed with the fruits still on his lips. Your taste was divine and he planned to feast on you over and over again. ‘I will not repeat myself once more.’

The heavy platter still in your hands, you started running the best you could, avoiding a few servants and some statues through the corridors. Your tunic was long and you almost tripped on it twice. Geta’s calm footsteps echoed on the marble floor, but you didn’t stop running. You were too afraid of what the emperor could possibly do to you. Finally, you reached his quarters and, without thinking, pushed the large wooden door and entered his chamber. You quickly look around you, realizing you were in his bedroom. You put the platter of fruit on the table near the balcony and took a few seconds to finally take a breath. When you heard his footsteps getting closer, you decided to hide behind the heavy curtains. You tried your best to ease your breath and be silent, but your heart was pounding in your chest and you didn’t really know if it was because of your little run or because of the whole situation. 

‘Oh, are you trying to hide from me?’ Geta’s voice was playful as he looked around. You heard the door closing and the shuffle of his toga grew closer. He chuckled as he spotted a soft movement in the curtain. ‘I know you’re here,’ he added before pulling out the curtain. You were startled as he caged you between him and the wall, his body flushed against yours. He grabbed a fist of your hair and pulled it to get better access to your throat. He licked a fat strip, your skin still tasting like the pear he displayed there earlier.

‘I told you,’ he hummed at your taste. ‘I’m not done eating.’ He licked your neck again and got down to bite at your collarbone. You cry out from the sudden pain, your skin red with his heavy teeth marks. He smiled at you, his devilish grin sending chills down your spine. ‘Oh, I’m gonna have so much fun with you…’ 

As you wanted to beg, he threw your body on his shoulder, surprising you with an unknown strength. You tried your best to fight back, to make him let you go but his grip on you was like a vine. You kept moving but suddenly your back hit his bed, and before you could escape, Geta climbed on top of you, caging you again. 

‘Your Highness please’, you begged, but he shook his head no. You started to cry when he pinned your wrists above your head, trapping you.

‘Where is the bold woman I saw earlier? Where’s the selfish one calling me hers?’ He cocked a brow, a wicked look on his face.

‘Pl-Please… I’m begging you, I-’ you sighed as you felt his lips kissing your temple. It was so strange how he could be so harsh and violent but so soft and gentle with you. His free hand traveled south, caressing your entire body until he reached your core again. His fingers dived between your folds, and he hummed in appreciation when he found out you were still wet and warm from earlier. 

‘Hmmm, I knew you would enjoy this as much as I do.’ He slowly circled your clit, making you squirm under his touch. ‘I’m gonna eat you up all night long.’

His kiss was feral as he crashed his mouth on yours. You could feel how eager he was for you, his tongue pushing in between your soft lips. You sighed as his fingers were still caressing your bundle of nerves, pleasuring you like no one has ever done. Your thighs opened up more and more and Geta took this as a cue to plunge two fingers into your pussy. The metal of his rings was a huge contrast with the heat of your core. You cried out as he stretched you, now pulling his fingers in and out of you at a rough pace. His grip tightened around your wrists and he stopped kissing you to bite your neck and shoulder, marking you. Tears fell on your burning cheeks, a mix between pleasure and pain. 

Suddenly Geta stopped and looked at you.

‘You’re so pretty when you cry, show me all those tears beautiful. And then, maybe I’ll please you,’ his grin wide and sick as he noticed you were crying. He pulled out his fingers from you and his smile grew even wider when he looked at them, your blood all over his skin. He sucked one of his fingers clean, enjoying your taste mixed with the iron taste of your blood, and then approached his other finger to your lips.

‘Taste yourself,’ he ordered. But when you shook your head no, his other hand let go of your wrists to land on your throat, his fingers squeezing tightly. You struggled to get some air, your face getting red as you couldn’t breathe anymore. His face got closer to you, his voice a harsh threat between gritted teeth. ‘Clean that mess you made on your emperor’s hand or else I’ll make you pay for drenching my robes with your cum earlier, you slut!’

His grip tightened around your throat, blocking your air flow and you had no choice but to open your mouth. Geta didn’t waste any second and shoved his blood-coated finger down your throat. The iron taste invaded your tastebuds and you almost gag. But you had to do whatever Geta wanted so he could let you go faster. So you wrapped your tongue around his finger and ring and lick them clean, swallowing your pussy juice mixed with the remnants of fruits and blood. 

You watched the man above you, his eyes only dark pupils now as he bit his lower lip. He loved to see you follow all his commands and desires. After you finished your ministrations, he let go of your throat and you took a deep breath, coughing loudly.

Geta took the opportunity to tear off your dress and you jumped at the sudden feeling of the fresh air on your heated skin. Your nipples got hard instantly, the hair on your body straightening and goosebumps rising. But the eager emperor didn’t waste any second, his mouth took one of your nipple, his hot tongue swirling around, his lips sucking it hard. You tried to fight back but a wave of pleasure flooded your entire being and you let out a moan.

At the sound of your voice, Geta nipped at your flesh, making you cry out. He keeps on biting your skin here and there, marking you as his every time you whimper. You try to push him away, to escape from his invasion, but Geta was stronger than you. And as you were fighting back, he suddenly got up at the end of the bed and grabbed your ankles. You didn't even get the chance to look at him as he flipped your body, making you lie on your stomach. Before you could say anything, you felt the silk of his toga against your skin, and the heat radiating from his body. Geta grabbed a fistful of your hair, making your neck arch back and whispered to your ear.

‘The more you fight back, the more I’m enjoying the show.’ You whimpered when you felt his knees parting your legs away. As he was biting your neck again, he pushed three of his fingers in your pussy, stretching you out even more. Your desperate sounds morphed into moans as the pain gives way to pleasure. Without thinking, your body reacted to his and your arched your back to get more friction, your ass now pushing against his body. Geta noticed and hummed in satisfaction.

‘See? I knew you were a good girl.’ You could hear the grin he was wearing, satisfied with himself as he was pumping in and out of you. ‘Let’s find out if you’re eager to please your emperor.’

He released your hair, and his hand landed on your butt cheek, slapping it. You scream, feeling a hot, white burning sensation of pain. He slapped you again, his other hand still thrusting into you. Your breath was erratic and your mind foggy. At first you were trying to escape but now you weren’t sure anymore. The sensation of Geta biting you again took you out of your mind at the emperor let his teeth marks on your buttcheek right before his mouth landed between them. You gasped as you felt his hot mouth and wet tongue circling your hole as he was still fingering you. The burst of sensation was new to you and you moaned loudly when he dived deeper with his thumb. 

‘Gods be dammed, you taste so good’, he muffles against your hole. Both of his hands now was parting your cheeks, the emptiness of your pussy making you clench around nothing. His tongue lapped a fat strip from your clit to your ass, and Geta moaned in pleasure, your taste flooding his tastebuds. You were a rare mix of fruits, blood and arousal and Geta couldn’t help himself but to grind his cock against the end of his bed to get some friction. He was hard as a rock under his toga, his body burning with desire and hunger. The growl he let go after his tongue dived deeper into your hole resonated through your entire body, making you squirm and shiver. 

‘Don’t move,’ he commanded, mouth full of you. You started to feel a delicious feeling building inside your belly, but you needed more to reach your release.

‘Geta… Please.’ You didn't even mind calling him by his title, too lost in the moment. The emperor hums, still feasting on your core. But when he felt your fingers circling your clit, he loosen his grip and pushed you away.

You whine at the sudden loss of his mouth on you and when you turn around to see him, his eyes were full black, his pupils blown at their maximum. Anger was written all over his face, and his chest was slowly rising because of his heavy breath. Suddenly you were afraid of him again. Thinking it was because you called him by his name, you tried to soothe him.

‘Your Highness—’

‘ENOUGH!’ He looked like a feral lion, his skin flush with anger and lust. ‘Your behavior is not acceptable. I have to punish you now.’

His tone was now calm but you could hear how serious he was. Without taking his eyes off of you, Geta unlaced the golden belt keeping his toga closed and reached for the side of the bed. As he walked closer to you, you got a glimpse of his body; his skin was sprinkled with freckles and moles, his muscles flexing with each movement. You gasp when he pinned your wrists above your head again with a forceful strength, to tie them up to the head of his bed. You tried to free yourself but he tightened the knot, burning your soft skin.

With a single swift movement, he took off his toga, letting it pool at his feet and climbed on his bed again, crawling over you. His hands forced you to spread your thighs apart so he could slide his body in between. And for the first time, you saw him, in his full glory. With horror in your eyes, you looked at his strawberry blonde happy trail under his navel, leading you to his manhood. He was thick, veins adorning his underside and his tip was angry red, precum already leaking off the slit. Dread invaded your entire being. You never slept with a man before, and that’s why you bleed in the first place. You tried to plead, to beg for mercy, but it was too late.

‘I will show you what happens when you’re not doing as you’re told.’

As your mouth opened to speak, Geta pushed into you. You scream as he forced himself, his cock way to big for your tight pussy. He grunted at the feeling of your velvet walls around him but he needed more. Hands splaying under your thighs, his rings were as cold as ice over your heated skin and it startled you when he moved your legs, folding you under his body. Your knees now just above your head, you could feel Geta diving deeper inside of you.

‘You’re so tight it hurts,’ he growled. ‘The pain… Do you feel the pain?’

He asked even if he knew. Geta understood you were a virgin the moment he saw how shy you were in the dining room. But that’s what aroused him the most about you. Sure you were pretty but he had knowned more beautiful whores than you. But what enthrilled him about you was that you were innocent, a perfect prey for his twisted mind.

You were still crying and whimpering as Geta was pounding into you. The pain was still here but your blood mixed with your slickness helped him to thrust in and out easier. Soon your whines morphed into moans and that’s when Geta decided to bite at your nipple again.

‘Gods, you like that don’t you?’ he hummed against your skin, now gently licking where his teeth marks were. You moaned again, pleasure flooding over you. It was a new sensation, a feeling indescribable. Your wrists still tightly bound, all you could do was feel.

Feel the burning of the silk around your wrists. Feel the remnant tingling of Geta’s bites and spanking. Feel the head of his cock hitting that sweet spot deep inside of you. It was overwhelming, and between the fear and pleasure, your mind stopped working. You were numb under his touch and suddenly, when you stopped fighting, the sweet sensation inside your belly increased. Your cunt tightened aroud him, gripping him like a vice, sending shiver down his spine.

‘Oh fuck you’re about to cum don’t you?’

‘Pl-please…’ you whined, not knowing what to do.

‘Who are you begging for?!’ Geta asked, his tone harsh as his hips hit yours harder.

‘You… Your High—’

‘NO!’ he shouted, one of his hands grabbing your throat, squeezing to force you to look at him. ‘Who are you begging for little thing?’ he smirked, his devilish smile showing how satisfied he was seeing the fear in your eyes. But even if you were fucked dumb, you knew what to say to him so he would let you go.

‘Geta please… My emperor. I… I’m begging you!’ you whined. Geta growled in pleasure, feeling his own release coming soon. He loved how possessive you could be. 

‘Cum now,’ he commanded. ‘Cum for your emperor.’ His thrust was harder and harder, his movement frenetic, pushing him even deeper.

It felt like he was hitting in your belly behind your navel. Your breath grew heavier and your skin was pink with touches of red where the young emperor marked you. A sudden wave crashed over you and you let out a loud moan, screaming his name. Geta felt your pussy pulsating around him and your legs shaking while he was fucking you through your orgasm.

His release soon was following as he buried himself to the hilt one last time, his hot cum paiting your inner walls white. When he pulled out, he kept you folded to watch his cum leaking out, mixing with your blood and release. Geta licked his lips and before you could see or do anything, his tongue licked you clean, the sensation of his mouth over your fold overstimulating you.

He hums, and the last thing you heard before passing out was Geta’s low voice.

‘You taste so good you’re a Gods meal.’

[jamiehe4rtsmen]

⁹ can't believe i get to call you mine

୨ৎ

"you see that girl over there?" schlatt leans on the counter, pointing towards you across the deli shop, who was squinting at the menu (you forgot your glasses at home and were suffering the consequences).

the underpaid employee blinks. "yeah."

schlatt lights up, a dumb grin settling on his face as he lets out a giggle. "that's my girl. can you believe that?"

"wow... so, what kind of sandwich do you w—"

"i mean, that's like, the definition of pulling above your league. am i right?" he pushes his elbow into the cashier gently, like they were best buds who were catching up after a long day.

"for sure. what kind—"

"i asked her yesterday, and she actually said yes! can you believe i—"

"give me your fucking sandwich order."

his video had now garnered 9.9 million views, titled "the bit went too far". it started off as an apology video, apologinzg for something vague, until you walked into frame and chirped "hey babe, whatcha doin'?" in the video, schlatt whipped his head around and hissed, "shh! what if they see you? i'll lose like, all my revenue from my woman audience!" your eyes widen and you giggle conspiratorially, walking out of the frame. schlatt turns around, facing the screen, and shrugs awkwardly before the video cuts off. all thirty seconds of it went absolutely viral.

right after this video was posted, unpaid intern came out with its first episode. a specific clip mentioning you went viral.

"so, after everything that's happened today, how are we feeling? like schlatt, we all know you've got a girl back home." ludwig transferred the microphone from himself to schlatt.

he grumbled, "what's it t'ya?"

"well, are the two of you thinkin' about kids?" a grin broke out across ludwig's face.

schlatt's poker face was immaculate as he shrugged. "well, so far the two of us have been trying to keep her tamagotchi alive more than anything, so once we deal with that first... we'll think 'bout it. but i don't mind the idea."

the kids burst out into the classic teasing chant of, "schlatt and his girlfriend kissing in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G—"

"alright, alright! cool your little jets, kiddos." he groans, ruffling their hair.

on his new minecraft server, he was talking about you (as always). he killed a few sheep and made you a pink bed, placing it quite literally right next to his. he made a little sign that said "for my girl" and side eyed chat before quickly scrambling to add a little "<3" at the end, but when his chat teased him for it he scoffed, gaslighting to the thousandth degree. "psh.. no, chat. you guys are seein' things."

he'd added a new dono goal (which he reached in under an hour), which read "STREAM W/ THE MISSUS." he begrudgingly kept his word, booting up a just chatting stream titled "q&a with woman."

chat had fed him important questions to ask, like your name and hobbies, but he purposefully picked out the most funny one. straight-faced he looked at you and loudly proclaimed, "would you still love me if i was a blue ford f-150?" to which he got a hesitant, "...yes, but would i be like... carsexual then?"

he had also been caught and clipped glancing at his phone during streams and chuckling to himself, his cheeks flushed. sometimes he would even turn his phone to chat to show that toots 💕 texted him "saw a pineapple can at the grocery store next to a lawnmower and thought of you"

"ah. shakespeare's got nothin' on my girl. bill can suck a cock." he sighed, clearly lovelorn as he chuckled to himself.

sometimes chat would tease him with donos such as "blink twice if you need help" or "dating above your league final boss"

but his favorite thing was when someone on twitter tagged him in a photo of you and a man talking to each other, captioned "@/jschlatt, i'm sorry to be the one to tell you this, but i saw your girl at a restaurant with this guy. dm me if you need emotional support 😘 xoxo"

schlatt was sent this tweet on stream, and burst out laughing. he laughed so hard he burst into tears, then he called you in the room with a mock-serious voice. "babe, jschlattsleftsock on twitter—"

"x, the everything app," you jokingly interrupt him.

he rolls his eyes, clearing his throat and grumbling, "not fuckin' calling it that. anyway, she said that you cheated on me with this guy." he burst into laughter as he showed the photo of you and the guy.

you burst into laughter two, but in between laughs you wheezed, "that's— my older brother— oh my gosh! and the xoxo at the end, the girl is shameless!"

chat, when they realized the truth of the situation, calmed down and started laughing too. you and the guy did look eerily similar to anyone with a pair of eyes, and it became a bit between the two of you and chat.

୨ৎ

divider credits @issysh3ll

[disguting-girl-reads]

“John mentioning how 15 year old Sam and 19 year old Dean are not getting along as well as they used to (I have a weecest headcanon about that)”

would love to know your headcanon for this ❤️

ooh I'll gladly tell you lol

I talked a bit about my take on weecest on this post

so yea, i do think they’re acting weird around each other, and - in john’s eyes - not getting along as well as they used to, because they’re drowning in guilt over their new, confusing thoughts about each other...

sam is growing up. he’s starting to look and act less like a kid, pushing back against their dad more and more. he’s not falling into the role of dean’s little brother as easily, and that, on its own, is already disorienting for both of them

at this point, they’re both teenagers, dean on the edge of adulthood, sam leaving childhood behind, and they’re isolated from the world in a sense (always moving around, not being able to be truthfull with their colleagues, john even avoid other hunters much, so their world is really small). john even mentions that they have no friends, no roots anywhere. so, in that kind of environment, it’s not hard to imagine things shifting into a boundary-blurring situation

sam is fifteen, his hormones are all over the place, and he’s painfully embarrassed about it. he starts noticing dean more, not that he never did before. his brother has always been otherworldly pretty, and everyone around them noticed that. but now, sam is dreaming about him... his hands, his lips, his freckles. he tries to redirect his attention to the girls at school, because that’s what he should be doing. but it never works. every time, he just ends up comparing them to dean, and no one ever measures up.

dean's has an even more messed up approach to this. he's straight. he’s never had trouble picking up girls, and he’s never really noticed other guys before (maybe once or twice, but never enough to think about it). so when he starts catching himself staring at sam, he doesn’t even realize what kind of stare it is at first. sam is growing, almost as tall as him now, getting stronger. so if dean watches him train a little too closely, it’s just because he’s proud of him…

so they start avoiding each other, both trying to push down what they’re feeling

sam is more aware of what this is, so in a way, avoiding dean is his way to punish himself, because in his mind, dean would never have thoughts like this. dean is good and pure. he’s the freak. he always has been.

dean, on the other hand, is a bit more clueless about what’s happening, or more likely, he’s just repressing it harder. he tries to counteract his attraction by going out with more girls, doubling down on treating sam like a kid, because that’s what he’s supposed to do. If he keeps seeing sam as a boy, it’ll stop him from seeing him as a man, and that solves this issue because he's not that much of creep. but sam pushes back, refusing to fall into that role anymore, and it shatters dean’s illusion...

and that’s when the resentment starts, both of them hating the way the other makes them feel...

so yeah, I do think they’re not getting along as well, weighed down by guilt and repression and resentment, and that causes that sense of "weirdness" between them that John catches...

sorry for such a huge response 😭 I'm just so insane about this

[dallasgallant]

Time period post: going steady v. Casual dating

Figured this would be pretty helpful in regard to some ship stuff but also generally the attitudes of the time period. Now this will be largely straight and a lot more Soc leaning than Greaser (I’ll bring up some differences later in the post) so be aware but I hope it’s useful regardless.

Going around-

In essence, I want to tackle the difference between “Going with” and “going steady” and the steps in between of 1960s dating culture. Giving a necklace or a ring is a huge deal that wouldn’t happen once you start dating officially, it’s a big symbol of your relationship. It is earned.

You have casual dating, where you’ll go on dates with several people on occasion, you may have someone you see the most often but it’s not an exclusive thing. Hand holding, kissing, sometimes even beyond that depending on who you are and what the feeling is, but it’s more a traditional date/hang out of a nice walk or getting a Coke or seeing a movie.

Then you have dating, you make it official boyfriend/girlfriend and it’s just each other. There’s still flirting, but not going on dates with someone else. This is where you’re going together.

Going steady is a step above, hard exclusive for each other. The kind of dating where you’re expecting a future together. You’re not engaged but it is very likely you eventually will be. You give jewelry to show this commitment and this change in your relationship. From here you’d have engagement, marriage etc if it makes it that far.

It’s like an extra step or an extra trial period before full on engagement. There’s a fluidity to it that isn’t fully there in modern dating in a way I can’t explain? Sort of that there was a lot more general flirting and almost inherent jealousy. Tests to be had?

Bases and rings-

Some of this may have its basis in the “courting” of the real old days, where it was a period of going together, absolute exclusive and then being married. No real “dating” just that engagement trial period than marriage, it wasn’t casual it had to be with the intent of marriage. Very stuffy and serious and chaperoned.

Now of course that definitely changed with the introduction of cars and by the 1940s…

But aspects like asking the father, curfews, the “base system” (first base, kissing , second base, touching over clothes and so on...) and things like having that “going steady” period of showing off that commitment can be seen as remnants of the older practice. And of course courting never fully went away, more extreme religious sects still practice it today.

Difference-

Now, things like “curfew” and “bases” are much more of a middle class and Soc thing to dating, all that structure and “proper” way of doing things. Now, don’t mishear me Greasers will still give jewelry and go exclusive but they’re much more— physically passionate without that social restraint, for a lack of a better way to say it. More kissing and touching and putting out without this whole song and dance of the right order. This isn’t to say that Soc’s always do what’s expected or told either but, Pony does note how Greasy girls are much more touchy (which is a bit misogynistic but you have to keep in mind it’s the 60s. Girls are supposed to almost tease or deny once or twice and act proper™️ than just want or be down for something. But also keep in mind this is a “expectation” and image more than a reality)

[arathejedi394]

just a wee thought about this + featuring sound sensitivity bc yesterday i went out to breakfast with my parents at a very unpopular Michelin star-level excellent diner (the best kind of restaurant) and in the middle a bunch of other people came in and started moving the chairs around so loudly and screechily I felt literal physical pain; I literally almost vomited into my plate the sounds were so harsh and loud. i was so busy trying to look polite too that I was just suffering until my mom across the table exaxperatedly said "plug your ears" bc she's tired of me doing uncomfortable shit for the sake of not upsetting people around me. anyway it should be more socially acceptable to slap your hands over your ears and whimper in pain bc something loud just happened. also + the fact that the more your eyebrows touch the more attractive you are. (yes I just said unibrows are more attractive than two brows what world do you live in where two eyebrows are enough when you could have one strong line from brow to brow? think about it. thick bushy dark eyebrow. i mean thick, not artfully plucked into a broad arch, I mean flared out towards the temples like pyramids, a good inch thick at the angle pointing to the temple. you want that one eyebrow creasing in the middle where it already touches to look at you in concern, with affection and the desire to keep you around. don't you see that the shadow that is created when the two halves of that one brow crease together says I love you? don't you see that when one eyebrow pinches together, it is twice the concern as if two unfeeling separated lines draw nearer to one another? exactly. unibrows are far more attractive than individual brows. if you think otherwise, talk to me when you've worshiped frida kahlo properly. and when you're done worshipping frida kahlo take the time to study her politics before you go back to appreciating your whole new sinfully sensual world of bucky barnes with a unibrow.) (look, unibrows are just infinitely more attractive and men with unibrows are just infinitely more daddy; if I've ever written a bucky and you didn't imagine him with a unibrow, I'm sorry you missed the point. just as I'm sorry if you see Bucky as a babygirl or a skinny person when he's so clearly a paternal dom and when he has the opportunity to pack on padding. ultimate bucky barnes has several spare tires and one eyebrow. if you think otherwise, you're watching mere shadows on the walls while bucky with his generous beer gut and thick unibrow is guiding steve in a waltz. plato would be sad for you. but now you know better. the fewer eyebrows you have (the more spare tires bucky has) the more noble the more regal the more powerful and demanding of authority you have.)

A crow suddenly flies into Steve's face and he startles with a yelping gasp, at once flapping his hands at it to bat it away. The crow screeches horribly and flaps its wings right into his eyes. Steve, still crying out in sudden fright and the overwhelming wrongness in his very atoms of the sound of the crow squawking, scrambles back right into the very hedge behind him in his attempts to drive away the agonizing sound. But the crow only follows him, squawking and cawing loudly enough to jar his ears and at once driving an irrational urge to cry and vomit into his very bones with the grating texture of the sound; he hates the sound of crows calling out angrily, it makes his teeth hurt in addition to making him nauseous. The crow screeches deeply once more and Steve just screams back at it, more than overwhelmed by the volume and pitch than its flapping wings and snapping talons or beak, and wishing he were very suddenly deaf, desperate for it to stop crying more than he wants it to stop smacking his face with its sharp wings, feathers almost cutting at his skin.

"Soot!" abruptly cries the voice of another boy.

And the crow at once stops squawking, the sudden absence of the sound washing over Steve like hot water with lavender.

Steve blinks rapidly and repeatedly as the crow darts away from him as quickly as it had appeared; it flies in the opposite direction from him towards a boy with his right arm outstretched, who had appeared as suddenly as the crow, standing in the hedge maze in front of Steve; some village boy in a patched gray and brown tweed jacket over a heavy blue wool waistcoat at least two sizes two big for him with similar but distinctly differently-woven tweed trousers, also mended in several places with fabrics that don't match the weave or color of his pants, most not even tweed, and wearing an equally patched-up, flat, newsboy-style cap on his dark, curly hair; made of gray and brown tweed other than the obvious darnings and yet another patch of unmatching fabric. He hasn't got on a coat even with the occasional snowflakes drifting from the sky, just gloves and a scarf, his ears red from cold under his brown nearly black curls. Steve recognizes him now as Betty's little brother: Bucky.

When he'd first and last seen him, he'd thought Bucky was his age, 12 or so, but looking at his face rather than at the back of him running away to climb up onto an absurdly black large horse, he's probably 13 or 14. It's possible that some might call him handsome, with a strong cleft in his chin, a regally square jaw, and a strong, rather beaked nose that matches the noble line of his browbones above his deeply set eyes, but he still has plenty of baby fat betraying his marked youth in his cheeks, and under his chin, and around his middle, visible even with his too-big waistcoat. He has bushy eyebrows that grow so closely together above his nose one might call them a unibrow, and perhaps as he gets older they will become one properly, yet somehow that adds to his striking features in a complementary factor that bolsters the idea that he'll be properly attractive when he grows up. Plus he has maybe two or three whispy dark hairs on the left half of his clefted chin, and the barest fluff of a mustache, that both betray his young age. And it's clear by his scent that he's a pup Alpha. He's a little bucktoothed, and Steve wonders if that's where he gets his name from.

The crow lands on his shoulder and squawks at Steve as if in reproach. Betty's little brother reaches up with his left hand to touch the crow. He's actually only wearing one glove, only on his right hand, and his left hand is made of sleek black metal lined in gold. Steve tries not to stare at it, far too curious; Betty hadn't mentioned her brother had a prosthetic limb. He's sure it would be rude to even be visibly interested in Bucky's metal hand.

"He doesn't know thee," Bucky says, but he's looking at the bird, even stroking the back of a metal knuckle down the crow's breast as it bobs its head looking at him. "You frightened him," he then says.

"I frightened him?" Steve repeats incredulously. "He's the one that flew right into my bloody face!"

Bucky cracks a lopsided grin, showing a missing canine on his left side. "Don't worry," he says, "he's a nice crow. C'mon, give him a pet. That way next time he sees you, he won't be frightened of thee."

"I don't want to go near that thing," Steve retorts, at once crossing his arms over his chest. "It's filthy, and dirty, and it probably has diseases!"

"He's not got diseases, he's mostly an indoor crow. All his food and water's looked after so as he don't eat nothing he shouldn't," Bucky says, then adds, with an encouraging nod: "He's nice and soft. A crow's feathers, well-cared for, are just like silk."

"How would you know?" Steve asks him sharply.

"I've touched silk," Bucky insists with another nod. "C'mon, don't you want to see if I'm telling the truth? I thought all Omegas liked soft things."

"Just because I'm going to be an Omega doesn't mean I want to feel a crow's feathers!" Steve snaps, stomping a foot in his boot and kicking up the hem of his much nicer Cashmere wool trousers, which look about ten years newer than Bucky's, even though ten years ago Bucky couldn't possibly have fit in the pants he's wearing.

But Bucky shrugs in response. "Unless you're chicken," he says.

"I am not!" Steve retorts again.

He uncrosses his arms and lurches forward the few shuffling steps between him and Bucky and the crow on his shoulder. Bold and refusing to think, Steve reaches up. He briefly touches the crow on Bucky's shoulder with a gloved finger, and then just as quickly pulls back, frightened of the crow's beak and its squawk again. But Bucky chuckles and catches his wrist before Steve draws fully away with his metal hand. It's surprisingly warm. Without a word, he transfers Steve's wrist into his other hand, the gloved one, then using the metal one, he pops Steve's glove off, pinching the tips of the index and middle fingers to tug it off. Then he pulls Steve's hand a bit closer and Steve lets his bare fingers brush over the crow's feathers. They are like silk. Smoother, even. He smiles a little, albeit without meaning to, and takes over the movement to stroke the pads of his fingers down the smooth, blue-black feathers of the bird on Bucky's shoulder.

"You like that, Master Stiofán?" Bucky prompts gently, startling him with the sudden use of his name; particularly as he pronounces it correctly, even with the right emphasis on the fada over the vowel in the second syllable, when so far, no one in Wrexham County has said it right; English or Welsh. "See?" he adds in his thick Welsh accent, now flicking his pale, gray-blue eyes onto Steve's as he smiles and once more shows the missing adult tooth from his upper jaw. "Soot's no harm," he says, his voice soft and still high-pitched with a strong treble from adolescence, and his accent is so thick it's heavier than his older sister's.

Steve pinches his lips together, reluctantly giving Bucky a contrite smile. Soot, the crow, bobs his head and tucks it into Steve's palm, letting him stroke down the bird's sleek back, where he flutters his wings and tail. Steve smiles for real. He's never actually touched an animal before.

"I know you, too," he says, his gaze flicking back up to Bucky's; up, since Bucky is four or five inches taller than him. "You're Elizabeth's little brother."

"That's what the English call her," Bucky answers, gently but clearly affronted. "She's actually called Elisabeta. You ought to understand, sir," he adds, raising his eyebrows.

Steve flushes, scowling for a second, then glances down. "She told me it was Elizabeth," he mutters, even growling as best he can in his defensiveness; even though he's an Omega pup, he actually can growl rather deeply and loudly, people always tell him he sounds too coarse to be a pup Omega, that he sounds like he'll grow to be an Alpha.

He starts to pull away, too, but Bucky grabs his wrist once more, and pulls him back so he's touching the crow once again, his gaze dropping down to look at where he's moving Steve's hand. And Steve lets him, though still maintaining a cross look, since Soot's feathers really are very nice to touch.

"I meant no offense, sir," Bucky then says. "Betty tries to fit in too hard, is all's I think. I reckoned someone from Ireland would know how that feels."

Steve feels even more cross with Bucky, even further because he's quite right. Thick Welsh accents as Betty and Bucky might have, it's clear their ancestors came from somewhere far, far more eastern of continental Europe, and perhaps even further East; they've both got curls in tight ringlets and strong, handsome noses known to be common among Jewish people, and the both of them have a softness to their accents, too, that hint at knowing the language of Travellers beyond the way the Welsh speak English.

"I suppose," Steve mutters, and strokes his palm down Soot's slim back, his lips twitching towards a smile when Soot twitches his spine and all his feathers shift. "Sorry. I didn't think to ask."

"It's alright," Bucky responds. "Betty's been saying your name wrong, anyway," he adds with a bright, crooked grin that betrays his missing tooth. "So I also reckons that turnabout is fair play."

Steve lets out a snort and smiles again. Soot croaks a bit, far kinder and softer than before, and ducks his head, so Steve strokes past it down his back once more.

"There," Bucky says as he looks at the crow on his shoulder again. "You want to hold him?"

Steve bites his lip as he looks Soot in the eye. Soot bobs his head a bit, blinking, then squawks as softly as Bucky had just spoken. Steve hesitantly nods. So Bucky reaches up and nudges a metal finger under Soot's talons, until he hops onto it, then he lifts the crow off his shoulder. Using his right hand, he balances him, and gently shakes him off onto Steve's lifted forearm. Soot's talons grip sharply into his skin even through the layers of his tweed overcoat, Cashmere jacket, and flannel shirt beneath that, but they don't hurt. Instead, they tickle. Steve can't help but giggle and reaches up to pet the backs of his knuckles down Soot's breast, marveling at how cool his feathers feel even in the early winter.

"It's not only Omegas that like soft things," Bucky then says. "I know that. Just so you's know's I'm not rude like that."

Steve glances at him briefly. "You don't look rude," he whispers.

Bucky gives him a warm smile. "I hope not," he says.

[*]

Steve bursts into snorting laughter, leaning back on Eight's strong, black back as he still clings to Bucky's patched waistcoat, throwing his head back as he howls with mirth.

"You're such an eejet!" he cackles.

When he drops his chin again to get his breath, Bucky's twisted around on the horse and is looking at him with a bright grin. Steve calms himself to a few giggles, then shifts his arms a bit tighter around Bucky's middle, now locking his hands together. Steve watches Bucky close his eyes and wonders what he's doing.

Then Bucky's lips smack against his briefly. Steve shuts his eyes, too, in surprise, and when he blinks them open again, Bucky's leaned forward in his seat once more, pink in the ears and looking bashful.

"I --" he starts.

Steve gives him an equally fast kiss, but on the cheek that time. Bucky grins again, then faces forward entirely, clicking his tongue at Eight and also knocking his heels into his flanks. Steve wraps a bit tighter around him, smiling into his back so wide it hurts, wide enough to dimple his cheeks, which he hasn't done in years, years even farther back than before his parents died.

[*]

Steve's distracted from his painting by the sudden appearance of a crow, scolding him over something and fluttering its wings in his face.

"Soot!" he snaps angrily as he bats at the bird trying to get his attention so successfully he almost splatters his painting with what is on his brush accidentally. "What the bloody hell is the matter with you!" he demands as he knocks the bird away from him, sending him fluttering into the air.

"Sorry!" Bucky's voice calls.

Soot at last relents his assault on Steve's face, cawing softly, and darts through the air towards where Bucky is jogging into the garden's main courtyard, so he can land on his shoulder and look back reproachfully. Steve brushes his hair out of his eyes and gives the bird a cross look.

"Isn't he too old to be attacking me?" he demands.

"He wasn't attacking you, Master Stiofán," Bucky says, smiling warmly as he nears Steve, seated at his easel in the midst of Aunt Saoirse's garden. "He's excited," he adds, looking nervous for some reason.

"Well, what the ruddy hell for?" Steve snaps, shoving his paintbrush into a jar of thinner as he's been distracted from where he'd next wanted to adjust the texture and color of his oil painting of the roses and Empress of India lilies in front of him, and had thus forgotten the change he'd wanted to make before Soot flew into his face.

"Well," Bucky says, abruptly flushing red in the ears as he looks down and shoves his metal hand into his pocket, just as abruptly feeling around in it for something. "It's not every day you ask a pretty Omega to marry you," he mutters.

Steve blinks rapidly, his lips parting even as he's thrilled to hear those words from this man. Bucky then withdraws a small velvet bag from his pocket, and, very slowly, he lowers himself to one knee beside Steve's easel.

"I haven't got gold," he says, almost like he's shy. "Or rubies, or emeralds, or diamonds. I've got nothing really worth of you, Stiofán Grant Rogers. But I've got this, and I've got real love for you. And I've got a lifetime I'll gladly dedicate to making you happy, Master Stiofán. If you'll have me?"

Steve parts his lips as Bucky shakes out of the little velvet bag a small silver or sterling silver ring, one that looks like it's been resized recently, but thick and engraved with ivy, and centered by small but highly polished garnet in a hexagonal, step-cut shape.

"If you'll have me, Master Stiofán?" Bucky repeats in a pleading whisper.

Steve takes the ring from him. Silently and with a smile, he slips it onto his left ring finger where it belongs. He's been waiting for about four months now for it, ever since his uncle declared he was old enough to start looking for suitors. Bucky, as soon as the ring is settled on Steve's finger, lets out a relieved sound, like he had been nervous that he might get a no; silly of him. Steve looks up at Soot, now reproachful.

"Ought'n't you have told him I would immediately say yes years ago?" he scolds.

Soot squawks softly, just a little bubble of sound that doesn't even raise Steve's hackles. He bobs his head towards Bucky, as if telling Steve that he had tried many times, but had been woefully unsuccessful with each effort.

Beside him, Bucky releases a sound that's both relief and exasperation. Steve looks down to make sure his new engagement ring is settled correctly on his finger.

"You get five, no more," he adds sternly.

"Five what?" Bucky says, now frowning.

"Children," Steve says, then shifts to hold his new engagement ring to the light, smiling as he examines it with more than satisfaction, being far prettier than he'd expected it to be. "And I reserve the right to reduce that number per labor," he adds, not looking away from his newly most prized possession.

"Oh," Bucky says, very suddenly and with wide eyes. "Oh..."

Steve glances at him, then smirks. "I suppose you also reserve the right to attempt to convince me of more," he murmurs.

Bucky's ears go twice as red as his eyes widen so much they go glassy. Steve lets him contemplate and looks at his silver and garnet engagement ring, pleased and quite content. He'd planned to say no to any suitor other than Bucky for a long time now, almost as long as he'd known his Alpha. Then Soot flutters onto his shoulder, and he croaks very softly, hardly a hiccup out of his beak. Steve glances sideways at him, smiling fondly.

"Tell you what," he whispers, "you can carry the rings at the wedding."

Soot croaks again, gentle and kind, then butts the blunt line of his beak into Steve's cheek, following by another little squawk, quiet as a whisper.

"Yeah, yeah," Steve says, rolling his eyes. "Thanks."

"Er," Bucky says next to him, eyes rather glassy as he seems to be imagining things he'd never dared let himself wonder about before. "Does that -- Would five include multiples? If we had them?"

Steve breaks into a grin, looking down at the engagement ring he's really been waiting for for years. "No," he murmurs softly.

"Bloody Jesus Christ, mother of all whores," Bucky whispers reverently, his gaze fixed on Steve's mouth, and Steve chuckles to himself.

the secret garden but it's stucky and aged up a little (think a mild T) steve, somewhere between 12-14 stars as the surly and very rude mary lennox with his spoiled and supposedly crippled cousin anthony stark, and bucky stars as the housemaid's animal whisperer little brother dickon, like 13-15. steve and bucky teach tony how to walk, but they teach steve how to cry. also steve and bucky have a cute little first kiss while on horseback bucky turns around to look at steve while he's laughing about something stupid bucky said and he just darts in and pecks him on the lips once and then steve smiles differently and hugs him then they ride back. obvs get married when they're adults.

[skunkes]

we live fairly close to the airport and the other day a plane passed that sounded so loud (and louder and louder) and that sound lasted for so long that i flung off my headphones and started bolting down the stairs to hold cookie in our final moments 😭

[casualavocados]

You've never done that when I got close to you before. Why? None of your business. Tell me, or you can't leave.

KISEKI: DEAR TO ME Ep. 10

[torchstelechos]

Say what you will about the DC timeline but we all know the truth, Jason Todd uses AO3 and has an account despite not understanding these new fangle technological advancements (hes fucking with Tim he understands what cookies are, it pisses off Tim more than anything else Jason has done)

[thepringlesofblood]

out of context neverafter ep 17 spoilers

[1well-this-is-new1]

[unexpectedbrickattack]

👀🍕..

[125storejuice]

Okay small rant time !!!!

[skunkes]

[anastacialy]

on that last rb's note: some of these boycotts are not easy. a majority of my already-few safe foods are on the list. grocery shopping has been hard — it's already hard for me on a normal day — and it's only gotten worse as the boycott list grows. but i am still doing it. and you should still be doing it. you should still be trying, even when it's hard. free palestine.

[widevibratobitch]

moments like this when im really glad im a sad little cynic who always considers the worst possible outcome and never lets herself truly get comfortable and trust the good things in her life to stay there and builds her life around trying to soften the blows of the eventual disappointments just waiting around the corner lol never leaving my edgy teenager era peace and love

[chatpileroan]

one of my fav coworkers is actively job hunting after only about 2 months of working with us and its breaking my heart but unfortunately i entirely understand why she is, because not only does she just for some goddamn reason naturally attract male pests that want to romantically harass her while shes on the job no matter how many times she tells them shes married, rosa has unfortunately proven herself not immune to the 'woman of x race meets younger woman of same race in work sphere and gets possessed by a jealousy demon' phenomenon.