#learning glorious things today

[quaranmine]

if you order iced tea in a restaurant/cafe in the Netherlands, it's almost guaranteed to be sparkling

as someone who loves iced tea and hates sparkling drinks, this is very disappointing

Whoa, interesting! I've never been to the Netherlands. I know iced tea in general is not at all common in Europe (even though it's a Staple beverage of my upbrining) but I would never have assumed that it would be sparkling on average. I do know that in Europe you have to specify "still water" when ordering since sparkling is so common, so maybe that's just. part of it lol

[mr2swap]

Swap syndrome 2: armpit addiction.

-damn heat… -

The time on my cell phone showed 2:05, the idiot Travis had made me wait but in a way that made me happy I would have to charge him $50 more for being late.

Today was a very fucking day at the gym, it was so hot that I had to change my shirt, but still the rancid aroma of sweat coming from my hairy armpits filled the interior with my car, I was in the same parking lot of the gym where it is only A couple of minutes had left a huge sweat stain on the floor.

But despite everything I loved my new life, after the great shift and finding myself in this boy's hot and muscular body, from the beginning I knew this was a good thing, when I woke up in Travis's bedroom and looked down to see two juicy pecs, a sculpted six-pack and long, hairy legs, the first thing I did was take out my huge cock that was hidden among a leafy bush of hair and give myself the best handjob of my entire life.

It had been a little over a year since that moment, I quickly got used to Travis' life, kept his muscles big and strong and all thanks to his tiny YouTube channel where he showed all his exercise routines, but that was all wasted talent for Travis' glorious, beautiful body.

I no longer had my college degree or anyone to turn to, yet I was able to easily make money from all these fags, who wanted to sleep with me and this body.

Still not in the same city where I used to live, I watched the news and learned everything that had been happening in the world and that the real Travis was out there in my tired, flabby 40-year-old office worker body.

A tapping on my car window brought me out of my thoughts, it was the real Travis I grimaced in disgust as I looked at my old face once more in front of me, I looked at the time on my phone once more, and now it was 2:07 that now meant $70.

The door of my car and Travis jumped inside it, his first action was to completely inhale the disgusting smell inside the car, after that he lunged at me trying to reach my armpits, After that he lunged at me trying to reach my armpits, but in one movement I moved his old, ugly face away from me.

-You know the rules Travis, first I want the bills-

He extended one of my hands while he took out his wallet and extended a small wad of cash. In one quick movement, I snatched the bills from him and began to count them one by one while a nervous expression formed on the real Travis's face.

-Are you fucking with me? Only $500? -

There was nothing left of the old confident Travis, the confident, outgoing boy had disappeared, in his place there was only a perverted faggot who paid me for a few minutes of my attention due to swap syndrome. When we swapped our bodies, I thought I would get rid of him to always, but this pathetic middle-aged man was clinging to me like a leech trying to get close to me with his twisted homosexual intentions. I didn't really care what he did with my old body, but I thought I could make some money a month by squeezing every penny of this situation.

-Please! Just, just 5 minutes! I had to pay this month's rent and my landlord told me that if I was late another month he would throw me out on the street.-

I rolled my eyes as Travis the bitch kept giving me stupid excuses about how hard it was to find a good job now that he was a middle-aged man and he was tired all the time from working so much.

-Okay, just shut your fucking mouth.-

I put my hand on his head and pushed him into one of my hairy pits and choked his nose with the sour sweat that was collecting in my armpits. The initial struggle quickly turned into pleasure, I could feel Tyler's breathing slow. He shook until he filled his lungs, his mouth savored the curly hairs of my armpit and sucked up the small drops of sweat with his dirty tongue as if he had crossed a desert.

Tyler's small hands slid to his crotch and he began to frantically massage his cock over his pants, occasionally Tyler would move away from my armpit to get some air and lick my muscular arms with his disgusting sticky tongue, I watched as they passed minutes on my cell phone and before 5 minutes had passed, Tyler's small wrinkled cock soiled his pants with semen.

I pushed Tyler away and a satisfied smile formed on Tyler's face, his chest rising and falling as he tried to recover from the addictive experience he had just experienced, a few hairs from my armpit had stuck to his face and a stain of sweat had formed on the collar of his shirt.

I didn't have time for this, this experience had made me horny, I wanted to unload the enormous amount of cum that wanted to escape from my huge hairy balls, but the disgusting man next to me was not worthy of this...nor did I have another $500

I extended one of my long, muscular arms and opened the door of my luxurious sports car.

-Now get out bitch, see you next week-

As soon as I clean every trace of Tyler from my car, I'll call some of my girls, so I can fill their pussies with my beautiful, hot seed.

This is a second installment of the swap syndrome story, but the only thing they share in common is the same syndrome that is spreading among those affected by the great shift, you can see more by visiting my Ko-fi page:

Hello, if you liked this story, and you want more, you can take a look at my new Ko-Fi page to see my most recent stories, see my new stories and support me to continue creating this hot content.

[marcyvamp1re-blog]

ITS EVOLUTION, BABY !

pairings ⸺Yandere! Justice League! x Inmortal!Fem!reader.

couple of today! ⸺Yandere! Kal-El x Inmortal! Fem! Reader

This is a Headcanon!

sinopsis ⸺ You had seen it all. From the first whisper of life in the primordial oceans to the deafening buzz of the modern era. Every advancement, every innovation, a heavier burden on your shoulders. Nothing surprised you anymore; everything was predictable and monotonous, so you found refuge in a small apartment in the heart of Metropolis, away from the bustling human nonsense.

Until one day a flying bus crushed you.

warnings ⸺ Dark Themes, Dead, Religion, murdering, Disturbing Content, Unhealthy Obsession, Discrimination, War, Street Fights, Gaslight, Suicide, Violence, Blood, LGBT Content, Kidnapping, NSFW, Sexual Content, Mental Illness, Addiction, Torture, Corruption, Isolation, Trauma, Phobias, Paranoia, Manipulation.

A/N — Bah, just another story pulled from my imagination after dancing all afternoon to Pearl Jam songs while cleaning the house.

This land is mine, this land is free

I'll do what I want but irresponsibly

▪︎Your immortality is neither epic nor glorious. You were not born from the stars or from scientific labs. There was no cosmic ray, no magic potions, no caped heroes to save you. Your existence is simple, without ornamentation.

▪︎You are water.

▪︎Or, to be more precise, you were a microscopic being living in a drop of water attached to a wandering meteorite that roamed through the void, in the infinite silence of space, before arriving on Earth. In that tiny liquid bubble, you were happy, surrounded by other beings who knew neither pain nor time. Everything was calm.

▪︎Until one day, your home plummeted toward the planet you would come to know as Earth.

▪︎There your true evolution began.

▪︎Millions of years passed, and you witnessed it all. You observed the first spark of life in the primordial oceans, the giant reptiles crawling across the continents, and the hominids standing upright on two legs. With each evolutionary cycle, you adapted, but you always remained, indifferent to the passage of time. Nothing truly affected you… Until Martha appeared.

▪︎Martha was your youngest daughter, for now. At eighty years old, Martha was the only thing you had left in this world that no longer mattered to you. Time, that relentless enemy that did not touch you, was wreaking havoc on her. Wrinkles adorned her face, her hands trembled as she knitted. But she made you feel something you thought you had forgotten: humanity. Martha kept you anchored to a world that had become irrelevant to you.

▪︎You did not live in Metropolis with her because she had her own life, and you spent your time wandering to every corner of the earth. Aimless and without a home to sleep in.

▪︎But you decided to visit her when you learned from her husband that she was in the hospital. It wasn’t serious, but she was the most important thing you had, and even at eighty years old, she would still be your little sweet baby.

▪︎Your journey was calm; listening to rock bands and old songs relaxed you. Nothing could disturb your zen state.

▪︎But then came the bus. The fucking bus.

▪︎An empty bus flew out from a nearby building, a flash of blue and red, and chaos erupted in the streets. Superman, facing Lex Luthor, knocked a bus right onto you. One second of distraction and you were crushed, like a puppet torn to pieces.

▪︎Your blood spilled onto the pavement and the broken glass of your car, which was now nothing more than scrap metal.

▪︎Superman, the defender of justice, landed right next to your car, using his infrared vision to see your mangled body inside the vehicle.

▪︎His face filled with horror.

▪︎Why always an innocent person? A choked sob, his eyes full of remorse as he saw you, a pool of blood and broken bones.

▪︎It was not the first time he had a lapse, but it was the first time it cost a human and innocent life.

▪︎The worst part was that you were young, with a long life ahead of you, and his carelessness took that gift away. What would happen to your family when they found out? How would they feel knowing that Superman, the so-called greatest hero, couldn’t save you?

▪︎He was devastated.

▪︎Until, to his surprise, you got up. Your body began to regenerate, bones rejoining, skin closing over the wounds. Superman watched you in disbelief, his hands trembling.

▪︎“Can’t you really be more careful?” you said, your voice filled with exhaustion, brushing off the dust as if nothing had happened. The hero was left speechless. You were immortal.

▪︎That was where it all began.

A/N - And well, this is just a little Headcanon that might turn into a series (hopefully not, because it would be way too long)

I’ll upload more soon, as well as another DC Yandere series. I’ll also post a few updates to explain some things—no need to read them, but it would be app

P.S.: If you’re a reader of the Silly Little Bat series, don’t worry. I’ll upload chapter three soon.

Don’t forget, if you want to request something, the shop is open

Take a bath!

[cevansbrat0007]

Indecent Exposure Pt. III: Poolside Promises

Summary: You convince Ari to finally let you have a little fun this summer. But at what cost? Check out Part One!

Warnings: Mature Themes, Ari Being A Menace, Brat!Reader, Dad's Best Friend Themes, Older Men/Younger Women Themes, Brief Allusion to Oral Sex, Cursing, Minors DNI

A/N: Please heed all warnings. Part of my Indecent Exposure Series. If you'd like to be added to the tag list, please let me know.

Almost Two Weeks After Your Father's Departure...

You glide through the water effortlessly, seeking a brief relief from the summer heat. While the news had promised you and everyone else that today’s weather would be one for the books, the warnings still hadn’t been enough to prepare you for the heat that assailed you the moment you’d stepped out the back door. 

However, it’s not until you allow your head to break through the surface that you realize you were no longer alone. You had company. And he was also staring at you.

Again. It was something he had a habit of doing.

“Can I help you?” It’s a flatly delivered question. 

The man only shrugs, dragging a hand through his shaggy, chestnut brown locks. Frankly, he looked so much like his brother you were almost surprised that you’d never really noticed just how many similarities they actually shared.

Same striking blue eyes. Same massive build. Same chiseled jaw that looked great with or without a beard. But where Steve always possessed an aura or control, Ari emanated something a little more raw and untamed. 

You found found that it sometimes did funny things to those annoying butterflies that had seemingly taken up residence in your belly these days.

“Did you need something?” You try as you continue to tread water in the middle of the pool.

“Nothing you're quite prepared to give, sweet Clover.” Ari responds cryptically, his head cocking to the side as he continues to survey you. 

“Then why the hell do you keep staring at me?”

That was another thing you’d recently come to learn about Ari over the last couple of days. He didn’t seem to care whenever you decided to take a spicy tone with him – a fact you’d discovered when you’d found him sitting in your father’s study just the other morning.

You’d been so happy until that moment, especially since you’d previously been granted three days free of Bucky, Steve, and Andy. Your time alone had been glorious, even if it had proved to be short lived. 

You watch the older man closely, fascinated by the increasingly pronounced tick in his jaw. Hell, if he was allowed to stare then so would you. However, the question was, who would blink first?

Turns out, that award belonged to Ari. 

Humming a tune under his breath, he proceeds to grab a lawn chair before pulling it closer to the edge of the pool. Neither one of you says a word as he takes a seat, his sinewy muscles bunching and flexing beneath the thin fabric of his light gray t-shirt. 

“Just came out here to check on you.” He reaches up to scratch at his beard. “See how you were managing in this heat.”

“I’m managing by planning to spend all afternoon in the pool, like any other sane person would.”

“Ya know, I’m pretty sure Bucky and the boys made it clear that they don’t appreciate your little penchant for snark.” He muses, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees.  

Probably. You inwardly concede. It definitely hasn't been winning you any favors. Which is why you often preferred to play the part of a mute. Whenever they allowed you to, that is.

“Doesn’t seem to bother you.” You respond honestly before closing your eyes and flipping your body so that you can float on your back, giving Ari a glimpse of your peaches and cream-colored bikini.

“That’s cuz’ not too much bothers me. I don’t allow it.” 

“Hmm…” You spread your arms, silently wishing you could simply float away from this conversation entirely. “Maybe you should talk to the others about that. Seems like I find a new way to piss them off every time I open my mouth.” 

“Nah.” Ari shrugs away your words as he continues to appear unbothered by the heat. “Something tells me they don’t quite know just what to do with a pretty little thing like you.” 

“Oh. And you do?” Well, you could safely say that you hadn’t been expecting that answer. 

“I’d certainly like to think so.” 

His statement hangs in the air as you both fall silent. While you weren’t quite sure what your would-be caretaker was talking about, it was definitely enough to make you think. And it’s at that moment that you decide to change tactics. Instead of floating here annoyed, perhaps it was time to use Ari’s seemingly indulgent personality to your benefit. 

A friend of yours was throwing a party tonight. And you wanted to go. 

When you’d previously brought it up to Bucky and Steve, they’d both hemmed and hawed over the subject – asking you all kinds of questions and refusing to give you anything more than a non-committal “we’ll have to see” or "we'll have to sit down and talk about it". And when you’d tried to play the ultimate trump card by calling your father, he’d sided with them. 

“I’m not there, pumpkin.” Your Dad had said while you’d been holed-up pouting in your room. “I asked your Uncles to watch over you, which means I’m gonna have to defer to them in situations like this one."

And, as luck would have it, you hadn’t been able to get your answer before they’d just up and disappeared on you like the overbearing assholes they were proving themselves to be.

“Yeah, well, I’m not sure I trust the judgment of anyone who’s crazy enough to sit out here in this heat and roast – not when there’s a perfectly good pool, like, right in front of them.”

“Not sure that pool of yours is big enough for the both of us.” Ari mutters, scrubbing a hand over his jaw. Although you get the feeling he’s talking more to himself than you. 

“It’s plenty big.” You eagerly reassure him, adjusting your position so that you can float closer to where your pseudo-guardian is sitting. “See? There’s aaall this space.”

For a second Ari appears unsure. And the closer you get, there’s no denying the fact that he was finally showing signs of feeling the heat. It’s hard to miss the thin line of sweat dotting along his brow.

“C’mon…” You urge, playfully splashing him. “Don’t be such a hard ass, Uncle Ari.” You decide to tack on the last bit for his benefit, all the while trying hard to keep the edge out of your tone. But if he notices, he thankfully doesn’t comment.

“Fine. Melt.” You heave an exasperated sigh when he still doesn’t move. Climbing onto a nearby pool raft, you turn your attention back to your companion. “Jesus, you guys are always so serious, like all of the time. I mean, what’s wrong with having a little fun?”

“Alright.” That’s all you get before he reaches to pull his shirt over his head, revealing the sculpted body hiding beneath.

You scarcely have the chance to appreciate the sight before you’re treated to the sound of a splash. You let out a squeal as water goes splashing everywhere, rewetting your already rapidly drying body. Seconds later, Ari’s head breaks through the water.

“Happy now, princess?” He disappears again, only to reappear closer to where you’re currently lounging. 

“Depends.” 

“On?” He asks, seemingly content to tread water alongside you. You’d be lying to yourself if you didn’t at least admit that the man was kind of attractive.

Or, as your friends had put it, sexy as hell. Yeah, you weren’t quite sure how you felt about that one.

“Well…” You hedge, giggling when he splashes you to encourage you to hurry up.

“Out with it, Clover. A closed mouth doesn’t get fed.” Or fucked. He silently adds.

“There’s this party I kinda wanted to go to tonight. All my friends will be there and I haven't really had the chance to celebrate my birthday with them yet.” You finish, your teeth going to worry your bottom lip. 

Ari studies you for a moment as he tries to figure out the best way to respond. “What did Uncle Steve and the others say?” He already knew that you'd asked them, and he wanted to make it clear that he’s not one to be so easily manipulated. “I’m assuming you asked them first.”

“They said “maybe”. Well, two of them did anyway. But then they left without ever giving me a real answer.” 

“I see.” He offers you a cheeky grin while pausing to swat at a wayward fly. “Maybe we should call them. See if they’ve finally made up their minds–.” 

“No!” You shoot straight up on your perch, accidently flipping the raft and sending you tumbling back into the icy cool water. You come up sputtering and coughing, and while you can’t quite tell, you’re also fairly certain that Ari is laughing at you.

“You all good?”

“Yeah.” You gag, hating the taste of chlorine. 

Ari nods before moving to retrieve your float. He’s even kind enough to hold it still long enough for you to climb back on it again. Only once he’s satisfied that you’re secure does he seem interested in continuing the conversation. 

“So…it sounds like you really wanna go to this party. Don’t you, Clover?” 

“Yes.” You breathe, refusing to say anything more than that just in case he was actually considering it. You’re so desperate that you don’t even balk when he begins swimming towards the edge of the pool, dragging you along with him. He doesn’t speak again until he’s reached his destination. 

“Tell me, will there be any drinking at this party?”

“Wha–no!”

“Now’s not the time to lie to me, princess. Will people be drinking at this party?” He reaches up to cup your chin, his brilliant blue eyes boring into yours as if he's attempting to unravel all of your secrets.

One by one.

“I swear! Grace’s parents would positively kill her if they found out she threw that kind of party.”

Ari quietly mulls over your answer before deeming it to be honest enough for his liking. “How about boys?”

Fuck. While you couldn’t be honest, you also didn’t want to lie. Not when you were this close to getting what you wanted. Which was freedom. 

“Her little brother will be there. He’s a couple grades below us. But it's not like she can kick him out or anything.”

“Just her little brother, huh?” You could tell he was feeling more than a little skeptical. However, you’re surprised when he seemingly lets it slide. Releasing his grip on your chin, he gives you a little push, content to let you float away. 

“I swear. We can’t do anything too crazy with him around – he’d rat us out sooo fast.”

Please believe me. Please believe me. Please believe me. 

Holding your breath, you watch as he climbs out of the water. He makes a beeline for your towel, patting himself dry to the best of his ability before draping it over his shoulder. 

“Okay, sweetheart. I might be willing to make an executive decision on this one, provided you’re willing to do something for me in return. Something that’ll keep at least some of the heat off of me when it comes to dealing with Steve and the boys.”

What you didn't know was that they had already discussed your desire to attend this party – him, Bucky, Andy, and Steve – and they'd decided that the answer was "no". But since you'd gone the last couple days without throwing a tantrum, Ari felt inclined to give you what you wanted. It also helped that he found your bratty ways to be rather endearing.

So long as you weren't outrightly disrespectful.

“Anything.” The word flies out of your mouth before you can catch it. And just like that, that damn tick in his jaw is back.

“The only way I feel comfortable enough letting you go is if you promise to text me every 30 minutes. Doesn’t have to be long. Just a message to let me and the other guys know you’re okay.”

What the hell?

You open your mouth to protest before deciding you’re better off not. Right now, you’d take the win and try to renegotiate the rest later. 

“Take it or leave it, princess.” 

“I’ll take it!” You reply, albeit probably a little too enthusiastically. “Thank you so much!”

Ari doesn’t even crack a smile. Instead that damned tick of his only seems to grow even more pronounced. “Alright.” With that, he turns and begins striding towards the door. “I’ll, uh…I’ll get you another towel.” He pauses once he reaches his destination, turning to face you once more. 

“And Clover?”

“Yeah?” You call back, feeling happier than you have in almost two whole weeks. 

“Don’t make me regret this." Ari rumbles, allowing you to get a good, long look at his muscled, hair covered chest. "I'd hate for my kindness to come back and bite me in the ass. It would be a shame to start the summer off on such a bad note.”

“I…”

His words leave you so speechless that you can only watch as Ari proceeds to waltz through the sliding door, leaving you outside all alone once more. But not before reiterating his promise to bring you another towel so that you can get ready for lunch.

“Well, fuck…” Is all you can muster before rolling yourself off your float and into the cooling expanse of the water. You swim down to the bottom, touching the floor with both hands as you work to center yourself. 

You hold your breath for as long as you’re able before the need for oxygen forces you to resurface. As you greedily gulp air into your burning lungs you tell yourself not to give a fuck about Ari and his bullshit. Instead, you decide to focus on the most important aspect of tonight, namely…

Just what in the hell were you going to wear?

END

Official Tag List

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[holylulusworld]

Forbidden lust (2) - Kinktober 1

Summary: It's time for payback. And more fun with your "stepdad".

Pairing: CEO!Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Rating: Explicit

Kink: Homewrecker kink

Warnings: no real stepcest, smut, unprotected sex, doggy style, breeding kink, homewrecker kink, gags, past cheating, mentions of character’s death, more plot than expected

Catch up here: Forbidden Lust

Kinktober vs Flufftober 2023

Part 2/3

Two weeks after the incident at Bucky’s office, …

After the day in Bucky's office, you ended up tangled in each other most of the time. It’s a wonder that he didn’t break you yet.

You find yourself pressed up a wall or bent over any surface the moment Bucky lays eyes on you.

He’s obsessed with you. 

If you don’t stop him, Bucky is all over you. Even in front of people.

Steve walked in on you more than once. He learned his lesson and tried to remember to knock before entering a room. 

Today you wanted to talk about your father’s last will but ended up pressed against one of the sliding glass doors at Bucky’s penthouse leading to the balcony.

Not that you would ever complain about getting destroyed by his glorious cock. The problem is you don’t get things done with him around.

Just like right now. Instead of talking about your father’s last will, and what Bucky’s friend the lawyer, and the private investigator he hired found out, you are doing it like rabbits again.

“Shit, you look so good filled with my fat cock. You’re meant to be full of me all the time. I’m gonna…fuck…” Bucky jerks his hips harder into your ass. He’s close to losing himself inside of you once again. “I’ll fill you up and breed this cunt. Dot will be furious seeing you round with your stepdaddy’s bastard.”

Dressed in his expensive suit, only the tie he stuffed into your mouth missing, he fucks the neediness out of you. He groans and curses your name, all the while praising you. 

You whimper behind the makeshift gag in your mouth. It’s all you can do. Bucky cages you with his body and presses your trembling form against the glass door. Your breath fogs the glass door, while the glass feels cool against your heated skin. 

“That’s it,” he places one hand against the window, right next to your head. “You always take my cock so well. Mouth, ass, pussy. All of your holes are just perfect. Unlike Dot’s dry desert.”

His crass words have you on the edge. Only thinking of Dot knowing that you fuck her fiancé makes you lose control every single time. You are so painfully close to your orgasm that you’d do anything for the man ramming his length into you.

“B-ucky,” you moan behind the gag. “P-lease…”

“What do you want?” he whispers in your ear, chest pressed against your naked back. “Do you want me to tell you that you stole me from Dot? That you’re a bad girl fucking a taken man?

You can only nod. Bucky knows about your kink. Because he won’t let you fuck taken men, he pretends to be engaged to Dot once in a while.

“Let me just,” he pulls out to push you onto the couch. You squeak, but don’t fight Bucky when he spreads your legs to slide back inside of your dripping cunt. “That’s better. I want to see your face while I fuck you.”

Bucky throws your legs over one of his shoulders, holding them in a tight grip as he starts moving again. 

“Maybe we should send her a video of us fucking?” He smirks darkly when your eyes become glassy. “Oh, yeah. Your cunt just squeezed me tight enough to hurt. We could just let her walk in on us again. I’ll show her your cunt stuffed with my cum.”

You grip your breasts, rolling your nipples between your fingers, all the while staring up at Bucky. “Cum for me, doll. I wanna hear you sing my name.”

“B-ucky,” you spit the gag out to moan his name. “I want you to fill me up. Show her that you’re mine now.”

“Fuck, baby doll.” He spurts into you. “Have all of me now…”

“Bucky, we should focus,” you whimper when he nips at your neck. Bucky has you pressed against another window; his arms wrapped tightly around you. “I mean it. We are at your lawyer’s office. He will be back any minute.”

“Just look out of the window and let me taste your sweet spot,” he smirks against you. “Andy wouldn’t mind watching me kiss my girl.”

“James, and Ms. Y/L/N,” Andy walks inside the room, a manila folder tugged under his arm. “Can we start? I’ve got another appointment in two hours.”

Andy isn’t very happy seeing Bucky and you make out like horny teens. He clears his throat to pull Bucky’s attention toward him, not your neck. “Bucky.”

“What do you have for me, Andy?” Bucky pecks your temple. He whispers in your ear, making your heart flutter. “Do we have anything against Dot yet?”

“I talked to Mr. Y/L/N’s lawyer. He was as shocked as Y/N and her uncle that Mr. Y/L/N changed his last will one week before his death.” Andy placed a document on his desk. He pauses to look at you.

Bucky and you sit down to take a look at the papers.

“I didn’t know any of this,” you sniff. “Why did he do this? One week before his death, he changes his last will. I don’t get it. I know Dot is a master at manipulating people. But this…” You shake your head.

“We don’t know why he did what he did yet,” Andy continues. “But we know that he came with Dot to his lawyer’s office. The private investigator and the computer forensics expert he’s working with will come in half an hour. Maybe they found out more.”

“What about the last will? Can you tell us more about it?” Bucky asks. He’s back to business and tries to focus on the task at hand.  

“The original will states that the house and all of his possessions will go to his daughter. He wanted his brother and Y/N to take over the company together.”

“I knew it,” you sniffle. “Something was fishy about his last will.”

“Doll, you need to calm down,” Bucky softly says and pats your thigh. “Don’t work yourself up.”

“I cannot tell you why, Mr. Y/L/N, I can only tell you that your father took the redacted last will home without signing it. Two days later, his wife came to his lawyer's office and handed him the signed papers.”

“Did you start without us?” You crane your neck to watch the men entering Andy’s office step toward his desk. “You couldn’t wait a little longer?”

“Name’s Jake,” one of them, a guy with blonde spiky hair, holds out his hand. “I’m a computer forensics expert. If you want me to, I’ll hack into any account and make your enemies look like a clown…or an alien. Whatever you like best.”

“Jensen, not now,” the other man says. Unlike his colleague, he’s a little gruff and more serious. “Mr. Barnes, Ms. Y/L/N, I’ve got some good news for you.”

“Ari, a pleasure to meet you again,” Bucky holds out his hand to greet Ari. “What did you find out?”

“I found it out,” Jake grins. “Little Miss Dottie falsified your father’s signature. Undoubtedly, your father never signed the new version of his last will. I checked it thrice.”

“We need to look into his accident too. The police didn’t want to cooperate with me so far. But I got an insider who will send me everything I’ll need,” Ari says. He watches your face fall and tries to choose his next words wisely.

"What do you mean? I thought the police said it was an accident," you watch Ari with worried eyes.

"I’m sorry to tell you, but I believe your father’s death wasn’t an accident…"

Part 3

Tags in reblog.

[the-broken-truth]

Yuu - Child of the Great Seven [6]: The Sorcerer of the Sands in Scarabia

Summary: The Sorcerer of the Sands ventures to Scarabia with his Precious Diamond. Will he be pleased or will the residents of Scarabia learn the wrath of a Scornful Father?

Note: Yuu also calls The Sorcerer of the Sands 'Baba'.

[Scarabia - The Common Room]

[The Sorcerer of the Sands peered down at the Scarabia Students before him with his hand firm upon the neck of his Serpent Staff, its' ruby eyes glowing dangerously as his scowl remained firm on his face. He remained silent before turning his gaze to Jamil, silently giving him the command to introduce him to the members of the dorm trembling within their flesh; the command was recieved as Jamil bowed his head and turned to the members he once enslaved for his personal vendetta. Yuu, dressed in fine garbs mirroring their Father's, stood beside him with their hands behind their back; showing the stature of the Sorcerer's Spawn.]

Jamil: Members of Scarabia. Today is a glorious day for us as our own deity, The Sorcerer of the Sands, stands before us! (Notices everyone's shocked expression before he continues) However, that is not the only incredible thing to have happened. It has been discovered that Yuu, The Prefect of Ramshackle whom we believed to be magicless, is none other than the offspring of not only the Sorcerer of the Sands, but the entrety of the Great Seven. Kneel before their greatness. (Turns to The Sorcerer & Yuu before kneeling with his head down)

[The Sorcerer and Yuu watched at the entirety of Scarabia's Dorm kneeled without question and remained as still as golden statues before the Sorcerer lifted his free hand, motioning it to instruct them to rise, which they did.]

Sorcerer of the Sands (Looks at Jamil): They respond well to your commands, Viper. Well done.

Jamil: Thank you, My Sorcerer.

Yuu: Jamil, you don't need to be so stiff around my father, ya know...

Sorcerer of the Sands: It's only normal for mortals to be 'stiff' around the presence of their deity, My Desert Flower. Since you are not used to being divine, you are not used to this reaction.

Yuu (Looks off): I suppose you are right, Baba.

Sorcerer of the Sands: Of course I am correct, Dear Diamond. I am the wisest of your lineage.

Yuu: Does that mean you've beaten Dad at Chess?

Sorcerer of the Sands (Exhales): I have explained this before: Just as he cannot best me in Mancala, I cannot best him in Chess. We all hour our strong suits, Child.

Yuu: Understood, Baba.

Sorcerer of the Sands: Now, onto business. (Taps the end of his staff on the ground 2 times) Jamil Viper.

Jamil: Yes, My Sorcerer?

Sorcerer of the Sands: For the duration of my stay here, you shall be my personal vassel. You shall answer to and take commands from none other than myself and my child. Is that understood?

Jamil (Bows his head): Your wish is my command, My Sorcerer.

Sorcerer of the Sands: Kalim Al-Asim.

Kalim (Stiffens): Yes, Your Sorcererness?!

Yuu (Snickering): 'Sorcererness'?

Sorcerer of the Sands (Frowns at Kalim): That is not my proper title, nor is that a proper title at all, Kalim Al-Asim. How are you Housewarden of Scarabia when you lack common knowledge such as this? (Exhales) Regardless, I shall give you 5 Servants to cater to your needs while Jamil Viper is under my command during my stay. You shall not ask anything of him. Understood?

Kalim: But, sir...!

Sorcerer of the Sands: UnderSTOOD, AL-ASIM?!

[The Force in his voice caused the dorm to shake slightly.]

Kalim: Y...Yes, My Sorcerer... (Bows his head)

Sorcerer of the Sands (Exhales and straightens his posture): Good.

[The Sorcerer of the Sands would then tap his staff 5 times on the floor: 5 Servants appear before him with their heads bowed.]

Servant 1: You called upon us, Master?

Sorcerer of the Sands: I did. (Points at Kalim) You 5 shall tend to the needs and demands of this...boy for the duration of my stay in Scaraba. Jamil Viper shall be my personal vassel. Understood?

Servant 2: Your wish is our will, Master.

Sorcerer of the Sands: Good. Now, Viper, Yuu, come along.

Jamil: Yes, My Sorcerer.

Yuu: Yes, Father.

[The Sorcerer turned and walked away with Jamil and Yuu following close behind him until they reached a room; The Sorcerer used his magic to alter the room as a pocket dimension of one of the rooms in his Palace in the other realm. The Sorcerer would sit on a cushion near the table where a Mancala board was waiting.]

Sorcerer of th Sands: Jamil Viper, sit across from me. You shall play a few rounds of Mancala with me. My Child, take your place next to me.

Jamil: Yes, My Sorcerer. (Taks his seat)

Yuu: Yes, Baba. (Takes their seat)

Sorcerer of the Sands (Makes his move on the Mancala Board): I am quite displeased with how Scarabia is being ran, Viper.

Jamil: How so, Sir? If it was what Housewarden Kalim said, I apologize on his...

Sorcerer of the Sands (Holds his hand up to silence Jamil): You shall not apologize for his idiocy for you are not responsible for it. What has angered me so is that Al-Asim holds the position of Housewarden while you, who clearly holds more power and respect in this dorm, are merely his vice.

Jamil: There is nothing I can do about that, Sir.

Sorcerer of the Sands: And yet, you attempted to change that.

Jamil: ?!

Sorcerer of the Sands: Oh, yes. I am well aware of your attempted coup on Scarabia, Jamil Viper. I keep a closer eye on my child than one would think.

Jamil (Fear laced in his voice): Sir, I was...

Sorcerer of the Sands: Do not apologize to me, Boy. I understand your reason behind it and I do not frown upon it.

Jamil: You... You do not?

Sorcerer of the Sands: Of course, I don't. You, young man, are a true genius. Using your Unique Magic to turn the once kind Housewarden nto a tyrant while making yourself look like the savior that Scarabia needed ws quite clever. You would have suceeded if not for 2 Factors: My Child & The Sea Witch's Dorm Members.

Jamil: I was not aware that Yuu was your offspring, Sir.

Sorcerer of the Sands: But, surely, you knew something was different about them. How else could a 'Magicless' Prefect defeat countless Overblots?

Jamil: I suspected as much, but had no concrete evidence.

Sorcerer of the Sands (Chuckles): My Child is a true serpent, making you think you are safe before snatching you in their fangs. Honestly, if not for their interest in the Housewarden of Savanaclaw, I could see both of you as a powerful couple... Unless, you managed to convince my child that you have more to offer than Leona Kingscholar.

Yuu (Blushing): Baba!

Jamil: Sir... What could I offer? I am a servant while Leona Kingsholar is royalty? While he is merely a second prince, he still holds an edge of me.

Sorcerer of the Sands: I am willing to change that.

Jamil (Raises an eyebrow): How so, Sir?

Sorcerer of the Sands: Gain the favor of my child and I shall personally see to your liberation. Make my child happy and I shall grant you 3 Things: Freedom, An Estate, and Endless Wealth. In exchange, I shall gain a promising mage as a son in law and powerful grandchildren.

Yuu (Turning red): Baba! I already like someone!

Sorcerer of the Sands: It's never too late to change your mind, My Flower.

Yuu: BABA!

Sorcerer of the Sand: Oh, alright. We shall speak on this matter on a later day.

[END]

[a-spes]

So.. I have seen an edit about Captain Anderson & Chen, from the Rookie, and maybe I was the only one to ship them, but I really like (love) the dynamic the both of them have 🙃

And so, I can't stop thinking about Maria Hill having a similar bond with Reader when they are both working as S.H.I.E.L.D.'s agents. So hope you will enjoy the Maria Hill content you get today 🙆

She is the training officer than no one wants to be assigned to.

She may be the commander, the one you need to impress if you want to be given good opportunities in the job, but she is also the one who could easily make your first day as an agent the last — and it is something she would be happy to do.

They are a lot of rumors about the woman. They are glorious, but they scare the students. She has achieved a lot of great things in her carrer, but it doesn't come without a price ; this job became her whole life. Commander Hill has nothing to loose, she has no one to come home to, and she expects every agent to act the same way, to at least pretend they are in the same situation — "because if you don't, if you are too scared of dying to do your job properly, then it will become a reality. You fail, you loose everything," she had said the first day.

She is strict. She never forgives, nor forgets, when a mistake is made. She has no time to waste, and only trains the best rookies. So it is no surprised that she was assigned to this guy from your promotion. He is first in every class, he is strong, confident,.. in other words, he is the perfect trainee.

At least, he used to be, before he decided to quit S.H.I.E.L.D., only a few weeks after he has started his training by her side. So when time came for the woman to choose a new trainee, and when she pointed at you, making you her new one, you were shaking with fear — because she just sealed your fate.

The first weeks were hard, the woman didn't seem to warm up to your presence despite the time that has passed. She barely talks to you and, when she does, it is only to give cold orders or to reprimand your way of doing things. It feels like you are playing a game you can't win because she refuses to explain the rules to you, and she keeps changing them.

You are trying your best to meet her expectations, but you are only messing everything up. She sees everything you say, or do, as a failure. You haven't heard a single compliment falling from her lips the past few weeks, and it is slowly gnawing at your from the inside.

The worse is probably when she doesn't say anything. In those moments, when she looks at you with a stern glance, and an expression you can't read because she is like a closed book. Those moments when she leaves you alone with your thoughts, and you can only imagine what you have done wrong this time. It keeps you awake at nights.

She does it for your own good, that is what she repeats to herself when she eventually comes to a point when she starts to question her methods. She is strict, and demanding, and that is exaclty what you need because that is what will keep you alive on the field. The world doesn't give second chances.

If you decide to quit, it is that you weren't made for the job. Yet, you are still here, and she has to admit that she is quite surprised because you haven't even snapped at her — something most of the recruits would have done by now. Except you are slighly different. She has never seen someone so eager to obey orders. Someone who is able to put their egos aside, and accept that they have to learn everything again because the real life is nothing alike the academy.

Maybe, for once, she has to admit that her trainee holds the potential to make a great agent one day — yet, it is not something she would tell you directly.

(more is coming)

[spatialwave]

(smutty drabble lol. Definitely NSFW)

So obviously Angus doesn't have much experience being a munch but once he learns with you, oh lord get ready.

Forget about wearing skirts in front of him cuz he won't give you a moment's peace. He'll be trying to get it at the movies, the back shelves of the library, hell even when  your parents step out of the room after Sunday dinner. He has a fever and the only known cure is making you cum.

Don't get me wrong he loves fucking you or having you ride him, your tits bouncing in his face. But there's something else that really gets him going, how you gasp his name when he slides his fingers inside or the way you grab his curls when you're sitting on his face

hehehe, thank you for sending. i think we all deserve a little smutty angus tully drabble in our lives!

—

part 1… to be continued?

notes: nsfw. college au. 18+ characters.

getting ready for classes in the morning was one of—if not the—most important tasks of your day. you hadn’t cared an ounce about how other students perceived you, it had nothing to do with having perfectly curled hair or plump, red lips. it revolved around one thing, what you chose to wear and how that affected your boyfriend.

since you had started dating angus tully, going several months strong, the two of you had eagerly explored each other’s bodies. you two followed your hormonal urges and taught each other so many things—what made you whine in pleasure or what had you shaking and crying, begging for more. it was a glorious time of your life, growing used to pulling the tall boy into your dorm room and fucking between classes, his cock buried into the back of your throat or deep inside your pussy.

you spent countless hours every night learning what made angus squirm, how his hips twitched when you’d rub your thumb over the tip of his cock, smearing the pre-cum that leaked out. you hadn’t been prepared for his own enthusiasm, watching anxiously with half-lidded eyes as he kissed down your stomach until he lifted your skirt and pulled your panties aside.

he was slow and meticulous, perhaps a bit unsure, eventually finding your clit and letting his tongue circle the nub slowly—quicker, seeing how that made you react. he licked you up and down slowly, completely tasting and drinking you in, those big brown eyes of his not breaking as he learned every inch of your body.

it took him a couple times of eating you out to be confident in his abilities, successfully making you cum for the first time and watching in awe as your pussy tightened around his fingers as he lapped at your swollen clit. it was addicting, to feel your thighs squeezing around his head, your hands gripping at his curls as your voice cracked when moaning out his name. it was his favourite pastime.

today, you decided to wear a skirt. you knew the implications of your decisions as you hiked it up just an inch or two higher and smoothed down the blouse you tucked into it. you were content, smiling to yourself in the mirror as you wondered where your boyfriend would first find you.

these days were the best because you’d find yourself already so goddamn horny as you walked through campus, anticipating seeing angus. it was late thursday morning, which meant angus had didn’t have class until one o’clock. you ventured to the library, one of the few places you’d usually find him—and when you did, you didn’t bother getting his attention.

he sat at one of the desks in the centre of the library where it held the most traffic, his brows furrowed as he scoured an encyclopedia and scribbled away at a piece of paper. a final essay, no doubt. what a shame that he would soon be forgetting all of what he’d just read.

it was always like a game to you, finding angus in a sea of students and wondering how long it would take for him to spot you. you stood at one of the bookshelves that were near the seating area, right at the end as you pretended to look over the textbooks. medical textbooks, far from your own degree of interest, but your intent was to get up on your tiptoes and reach for something—your skirt riding up.

a quick glance over your shoulder, angus’ face still tilted down and fixated on the words of his text. with furrowed brows and a slight huff, you purposefully knocked one of the textbooks onto the ground. the loud noise startled many students, including your boyfriend.

you made eye contact for a brief moment, only for you to spin around quickly and pick up the book, bending over. your skin felt hot now that you knew his eyes were on you. staring at you with desire, undressing you, all while you’re turned away from him and trying to get your breathing under control.

slowly, you slip the textbook back up into its slot, taking one more shy look over your shoulder. you watched angus as he closed his books, shoving them hastily into his book bag and you took this as a sign to make way for a deserted area. your heart thumped hard in your chest as you absently smoothed down your skirt while you walked, drifting further and further into the depths of the library.

to ease the anticipation and ground yourself in the moment, you lifted a hand so your fingers grazed the spines of each book you passed by. you hadn’t seen any students in this area yet, only feeling the presence of angus turning into the aisle behind you.

“hey,” he called out, keeping his voice quiet, but you could hear the hunger in his voice. you slowed your steps, feeling his hand wrap around your wrist and within a few short moments your back was pressed against the shelf and his lips were against yours.

you moaned easily into his mouth, your lips parting almost immediately as you slid your arms around his neck and tugged on his curls with your hands, “do you like the skirt?” you mumbled messily against his lips, gasping as he pressed his thigh between your legs so you could rub against him to your heart’s desire. you needed the friction—badly.

“what do you think?” he chuckled lowly as his lips pulled away from yours, trailing down your jaw and to your neck. he nipped at the skin and sucked, leaving one or two marks near the collar of your blouse that would leave you wearing turtlenecks for the next few days, “fuck, i need you here,” he breathed, groaning as his hands fell to your hips and helped you roll and grind against his thigh.

“please,” you whimpered quietly, having to reach a hand to cover your mouth as angus kissed down your neck then dropped to his knees in front of you. the sight of this alone made you squirm, feeling the wetness build in your panties—ones you almost didn’t wear today.

angus took a quick look around before he lifted up your skirt, licking his lips as he partially tucked it up into the waistband so the fabric wouldn’t fall in his face. he preferred to be able to look up at you when he ate you out.

“these are my favourite ones,” he murmured in a praise-like tone, his fingers reaching up and tugging aside the black, lacy panties that covered your aching cunt.

his hot breath against you made your jaw go slack and a shiver send up your spine. you’d been in this position countless of times, legs spread and arms clutching to the nearest surfaces to keep you held up. thighs quivering and knees feeling like they could give out any second, with angus between them.

you looked down at him, biting hard on your bottom lip as his tongue circled your clit painstakingly slow—wanting to see you become a puddle because of him.

taking a quick look around and sensing no one else, you allowed yourself to let out the quietest whimper as you rolled your pussy along his mouth. he loved when you did that, fucking yourself on his tongue as he flattened it and tasted your juices, pushing it inside you. one hand lifting your right thigh, pulling it over his left shoulder, the other hand teasing your wet folds.

“angus,” you whimpered as he kept his slow movements, savouring you like a delicious meal as one of his fingers teased your entrance. you both knew you didn’t have the luxury of time, but he couldn’t help but tease you and wait for you to beg, “please.” you breathed, needing more from him. needing to be devoured, “please.”

satisfied, angus pushed two fingers into you, giving you the stretch and fullness that you desired. your head fell back and hit the books behind you, hands gripping tighter on the shelves as his fingers fucked you well and he sucked at your sensitive, swollen clit.

not once did he remove his eyes from you, watching as you had to try keep your voice down, breathing his name out as his fingers curled inside you and pressed against your g-spot, nearly making you scream out his name. he knew every part of you and you fucking loved him for that.

one hand flew down to his wild hair, tugging on his curls as you started to fuck yourself on his fingers, his mouth and chin wet from the way he abused your cunt that was growing tighter and tighter with each thrust of his fingers. he inserted a third, moaning filthily against you when you tugged harder on his hair, closing your eyes shut.

“cum for me,” he told you, pulling his mouth away for a moment so he could command you, “look at me.”

you opened your eyes obediently, looking at him as he smiled up at you. he loved when you looked so disheveled and fucked into euphoria, eyes half-lidded, lips parted and breathing heavy.

he returned his mouth to you, not easing you back into it. his tongue flicked at your clit, sucking on it and lapping at the folds while three of his fingers pummelled deep into your pussy.

that was enough to make your abdomen tighten, the heat inside you snapping when he curled his fingers again and left you shaking. your hips twitched and thighs tensed up as you moaned—quite a bit louder than you should’ve. your orgasm washed over you and left your clit pulsing under the touch of his tongue, wetting his fingers and face as your rocked yourself to completion.

if there was one thing angus loved, it was seeing how hot you looked when you came all over his face.

you felt the smile on his lips as your body slowed and your hushed whimpers came to a standstill, his fingers eventually pulling out of you and removing his mouth. he made sure to slip your panties back into place and untuck your skirt so it covered you up, like nothing ever happened.

through laboured breaths, you watched as angus stood up, smirking as he wiped his mouth and chin, brown eyes watching you recover. all you could do was give him a lazy, tired smile as you leaned all of your weight back onto the shelves.

“are you going to your afternoon class?” you breathed the question out quietly, batting your lashes as you lifted a hand up to his jaw, caressing him.

“fuck no,” he chuckled, wrapping his hand around your wrist and tugging you out of the library and to his dorm.

[honestsycrets]

before anyone else I: the venerable [admiral!miguel o'hara x princess!reader]

❛ pairing | admiral!miguel o'hara x princess!reader

❛ type | one-shot, sfw (minor past suggestive themes)

❛ summary | once upon a time, miguel loved a princess. upon learning about her engagement to his father, King Stone, he's back with a plan in hand.

❛ tags | forced marriage, arranged marriage, historical period not defined, royal!au, admiral!miguel, princess!reader, mention of character death, elements of implied treason and betrayal, some angst, some fluff, annoyed miguel, lyla makes trouble, self edited, f!reader, persuasion inspired, a kiss, innocent!reader, Spanish is not translated, a kiss.

❛ sy's notes | no requests were fulfilled; filled to meet this poll.

An imperial boat docks. It waves in the water a little off-kilter, pulling to the right in all its glorious majesty. On the dock itself, the head of ground forces stood dressed in full regalia, all navy blue and white, the gold buttons glistening in the fresh morning light. Jess expected this day would one day come. The seamen shouted among one another on the ship until at last the crew outstretched a thick oak plank. Boots bounded down the strong wooden ramp leading from an imperial ship to the dock. The awaiting crowd was rough and rowdy, casting bellowing screams at the admiral and his crew. 

“There he is!” Jess boomed, clapping her umber hands together.

They were freckled, with the frequency of her exposure to the sun. Today, her skin was shielded by a heavy coat. She abandoned the thing over her chair as she wrote letters, recommendations, and battle orders. But she preferred it when her poet shirt was thrown open, teaching the men and women in her charge. 

Admiral Miguel O’Hara led the charge, passing by the lackeys throwing down trade goods from the belly of the boat. Compared to Jess, his clothing was rough, punctuated by his time at the sea. What use was there for a thick coat with the spray of sea spray daily? No, he stood in dark brown breeches and a thrown open poet-shirt, sodden with sea water, likely from dealing with whatever injury brought his ship back to this usually forgotten port. 

He was glad to be back on the Spanish shore, if only it weren’t this shore and the many stairs he would have to brave to get to the castle while the engineers worked on the Venerable. Miguel loosened the sweat from his coarse locks, his shoulders bunched and ready for another fight. He came to a stop in front of Jess, exhaling deep, rage-filled breaths. Jess shifted back on her boot heel, a grimace on her countenance.

“That’s a pretty good hole. She’s taking on water quick. You hit something, Miguel?” 

“Me? No, I don’t hit rocks.” Miguel snorted, casting a look over his shoulder to the woman that stood at his side. Lyla’s eyes averted, not quite saying anything and saying everything at the same time. Lyla obscured herself behind her thick honey-brown bob. “Someone was distracted with the king’s cask of Carribean rum.” 

“Lyla?” Jess came up behind her, grasping her shoulders for emphasis. “No. Our Lyla couldn’t’ve done that number.” 

“It was once! One in eight years.” 

“Those... those changes you wrote me about. They have you on edge, paranoid. Let’s have a drink with the imperial guard. They have missed you.” 

Miguel threw a hiss back at the two as he stormed up the stairs, bundling buttons of his dirty poet shirt to obscure the sight of his dark chest from onlookers, namely the sex-deprived women and men of the capital whose hungry eyes ogled his crew. He didn’t need a loon bothering him right now, not here, he might punch them into a permanent, instantaneous sleep. 

“Oh, come, Miguel, these things happen. Look how sorry she is.” She says as if he cares. Jess rushed to catch up with him, the beads on the ends of her braids snatching and clicking. He closed his eyes, breathing deeply, his head heavy.  He doesn’t have time for this.

“What she meant to do is as much irrelevant as it was irresponsible. If you’ll excuse me, Jess, I now have to prepare a new ship to set sail.” 

“The king wants to see you. It’s about her,” she shouted. Miguel’s steps came to all but a grinding halt, his finger fingers flexing into a tight fist. His mouth was dry, and it wasn’t due to a lack of hydration but the mention of your name on Jess’s lips. She brought her hands to her hips, her hands on the golden embroidered loops. His face sagged, all irritation melding into something different, inscrutable. He threw her a look.

“Fine.” 

But first-- he had to get this sea stank off of his skin. 

“Admiral O’Hara! There is just the man I have been looking for. Come, come, let me pour you tea. No? No tea? Of course not, it seems I don’t remember the boy I used to know. You’re a man now. And one of decisive action! Coffee, yes? You are better suited to black coffee. Am I correct?” 

Everyone thinks he is thirsty in this blasted place.

He didn’t belong here. He was, as he preferred to be, stuck at sea. The unforgiving sea required his attention lest his men befall a terrible end. He could handle that burden. He stood below a great sigil of a sea dragon whirling to chew its tail. Its hands secured a great many orbs in its sharp, jeweled talons. His eye tracked across the inside of the crest, turning over the word hopelessly on his tongue. 

“Rum,” he answered caustically, his eye dropping from the great sigil before him to the jeweled sapphire and emeralds that were embedded in the floor. Between rows of sentinel were porcelain statues, their hands wrapped around blunt and aged swords, their fingers almost palpable on the artifacts that remained from times of old. The deep navy blue curtains and tapestries are detailed in ineffectual teal. He never cared for the other assortment of pots and jars that were so-called mythical artifacts and rolls of paper that would soon house the king’s poorly-made royal decrees. 

“Aha! A good seaman and his alcohol,” the king minced his laughter. The noise aggravated him, the memory of the man’s words buzzing in the back of his head. Now he kissed up to him. How he’d fallen. He blinked up to the royal crest, then down to the aged king. His long, grey hair at the middle of his back reflected his many losses. Miguel turned his eyes back down to the king, eyes crinkling at the corners, taking a glimpse of him. His tone slipped. “It makes the time pass more tolerably, does it not?” 

“It does.” 

He pops open a glass bottle of rum, pouring it into a cup encrusted with more fine jewels. Miguel doesn’t drink.

"I suppose you want me to get to the point.” 

That would be a nice change, yes. His eyes held modest deference, his heavy dark brown boots pacing toward a hearth in the middle of the king’s study. Wisps of vibrant blue fire threw embers into the air. He finds himself staring at a stained glass effigy of your mother. A woman who undoubtedly would have been ashamed of the husband that stood before him now.

“You recall my daughter,” How could he not? He released a small grunt, an acknowledgment of the king’s words. Mindful of his reaction, Miguel turned his hands over the hot air, plumes of warmth kissing his sun-worn cheeks. As the king spoke, the flickering flames warmed the slight ring on his thick fingers. “I’ve arranged her marriage to Lord Stone. An alliance of sorts.” 

Miguel’s eyes go wide, aghast, staring into the blank flames. He grits his teeth together, the thin blade of his patience whittling down with every word from the king. He kills his face of the horrified, fleeting emotions that dappled his skin like obvious spots. He might have snapped a look at the king before his eyes calmed, trained to maintain the illusion of composure. 

“How unfortunate.”

“King Stone?” around the corner, his second-in-command squeaked. He should have left her outside. Miguel brought his hand to cup his slight forehead, throwing her a warning look.  “That old coot is still--”

“Lyla.” 

“Yes, he is quite old, isn’t he? I was surprised when he asked for her hand in marriage, truly,” the king said tightly, born in annoyance. He has gone ashy, eyes desolate as he recounts the death of the prince, or perhaps his own. “I would have preferred an engagement to his son. I trust you heard about his assassination. It was a great surprise. A tragedy, indeed.” 

“We have heard many things about it. I am surprised that you would agree to such an alliance after what he's done.” 

It was impossible not to hear rumors in the ports he sailed through. Miguel did not only hold to royal ports but those that held slimy crowds of pirates and prostitutes. If he did not, he would never have the truth behind the many rumors that swirled through the air. Women in richer towns had time to spread rumors. Those suffering from poverty had no time for them. Their lives were ones of perpetual struggle. What use had they for the death of stupid princes?

“Feelings change.” 

Did they really-- 

“Miguel. Truly, I understand your apprehension. But unless you have the magic to raise my dead sons from the grave, I have no choice.” The king sighed, beating his old knuckles on the game board. He’d sacrifice another child for his own safety-- the illusion of it. Coward. “I must know if I can I trust you with her transport.” 

“She won’t last.” Miguel stared at him, breathing the words out, his frown darkening the rest of his features. “She is a balm to any battle-worn king, but Stone is not just old. He is dangerous. If you send her there, you will send her to her death.” 

“His wives are well cared for,” your father argued mildly because it was not him who would face the rest of a lifetime with Stone. He brought a fist to his mouth and bit down upon it, a vestige of the man he used to be. “Perhaps your feelings for her cloud your judgement.” 

“I can separate my feelings from my professional judgements, mi rey.” 

“Yes. I suppose you can, admiral. How long has it been since you bore the responsibility of being the Head of Guards? Seven years?” 

“Eight,” Miguel cropped, his hand shifting to the top of his pommel. “It has been eight years since I left the crown city.” 

“Head of ground forces regulates my guard now. I find them lacking,” he grabbed Miguel’s cup of undrunk rum and threw it back, his tongue snapping against the roof of his tongue. He felt for the sentinel of guards in the room. “My soldiers, that is. If they had been stronger, perhaps my sons would still be alive.” 

Be it like him to find fault in everyone but his own battle choices.

“But I am ever humbled by your selfless service, mi hijo,” he spoke mildly, “Please know it isn’t a decision I make lightly. I know my daughter. She would feel more secure if you were the one to take her to Stone.” 

They were nice words from a soon-to-be puppet king. Miguel turned his gaze onward, locating Lyla by his side. Her small, scarred hands warmed themselves over the ancient blue flame. A surge of heat turned over in his stomach, punctured by a fear he hadn’t felt in a while. He steadied his voice. 

“I would not be so certain.” Miguel wrinkled his forehead, throwing a look that looked almost off-kilter. After this many years, would it be easy to face you again? No, he decided. Not for this purpose. “Soft women are fickle to easy words.” 

What of me? 

Not you, Lyla. You’re not soft.

“If you do not want to, I can send her by way of Jess,” a long sigh slipped off the king’s lips. Then quiet, only broken by a clatter and Lyla’s frantic attempt to replace game pieces into their proper position. Miguel swayed to where she was, grabbing the head of a miniature oak knight and popping it into the proper position. 

“For her sake, I will deliver her.” 

Miguel said nothing more. He failed to wait for the king to dismiss him, perhaps out of confidence in their relationship, that this was not something he had to tread lightly around. Lyla rushed by his side, the wordless guards drawing the heavy doors open to the wide stone hallway before them.

“You cannot take her there,” Lyla spoke with a rigidity that Miguel admired, mindful of the volume of her words, only a whisper. “Your father is--” 

“Yes, Lyla, I know very well.” 

“Then what next?” 

At the end of the hall, Miguel rushed down the steps, out of the king’s chambers, and into lush, almost stabilizing grass. Free of the constricting walls that he would have once called home, Miguel took in the fresh air, his hands behind his neck. To take you there meant certain death. To not take you there, well, he regarded both just as poorly. The fat roses bobbed on their pointy stems. Miguel expects to see you there, with your chambermaids, eating fruits on an Arab blanket. 

“We take Jess up on her offer. She’ll be expecting me.” 

“Miguel, the intent in horseback riding is that your ride the horse.” 

“You know, on top,” Lyla jumps onto Jess’s sentence. “He hasn’t been on top of anything in years--”

“And break its back?” Miguel held the reins in his thick fist. The horse, a chunky mocha and white painted thing was a profit from his voyages overseas. Not only was it subjected to awful sea travel, but now to have a man of muscle on its back? With his newfound speed, it was a risk he did not need to take. “No. I have two feet. I can walk.”

Miguel was many things, but he wasn’t a monster. Or so he liked to think.

“I think you’re quite sweet, Admiral O'Hara.” Jess’s own guard, Gwen, spoke. She was a willowy thing, barely a sprout of a woman with a good heart. He could tell. Miguel looked down, opting for silence as he crunched down full blades of grass under his foot. 

“Miguel doesn’t like compliments,” Lyla said. 

He also didn’t like long, relaxing walks in the valley. Jess proposed something like drinking in her office. It would have been glorious-- but Lyla, whose recent binge nearly scuttled his ship, chose a good ol’fashioned horseback ride. Something that didn’t remind her of sitting on the patchwork doll that was the Venerable.

“The princess would marry someone she does not know?”

Dread filled Miguel’s stomach at the words, the truth in them half-cocked and wrong. He found no words on his tongue that could fit the weight of bitterness that he felt about the arranged marriage. Everyone knew, everyone but Gwen. She was a young thing.

“It’s not her choice,” Lyla spoke in your defense. “It’s her father’s.”

“Forced marriages are a thing of the past. They are not right. Has the princess ever even met Lord Stone?” Gwen asked.

In less than a week’s time, following the festival of roses, they would sail eastward. Or, so said the sailing plans he laid out for Jess. Who, for her part, looked away. Lyla and he exchanged a glance of mutual understanding. That was what he liked to call a sign. 

“No, before their deaths, her brothers never would have allowed her travel to Alche. This whole alliance is a sham. We’re expected to deliver the princess in some false faith that he keeps this so-called alliance. He will not. I cannot decide if the king truly believes in this alliance or if he is hopeful he will remain as a ruler. In either case, it is foolish. Stone would murder his own legitimate heir and for what?” 

Except they aren’t his words. Those words flowed freely from Jess’s lips. 

“The king will fall.” 

“Miguel. Those are treasonous—“

“Treasonous? He is incapable of governing.” 

“The council helps him,” Jess says, but the words come out slanted. She convinces herself as much of the truth as him. Gwen’s lips close, looking down to the sword at her side, then back to Jess’s troubled eyes. Miguel had her where he wanted her. Where she wanted to be-- abandoning this foolish faith in a man who long since gave up hope on a strong, independent nation. 

“A counsel of plants. Five of his sons have fallen. If this keeps up, we will fall next.” 

Jess felt the words running bone-deep. 

“You have a plan.” 

He always did.

The deep night sky was a sea of twinkling stars. Oil lamps illuminated the solitary garden. Miguel fit his hands in balls on his hips, eyes flickering from the blades of grass to the long stems of lilies. He breathed softly, drawing in breaths that should have been relaxing, but morphed into something awful, some unfiltered fear of the failure of his plans. 

“These are her gardens, aren’t they?”

“They are,” Miguel answered. “If nothing has changed, she cares for them herself and harvests them with the peasants. She’ll be here, tomorrow, for her last harvest as a princess.” 

On one hand, overturning the king and his council could go seamlessly. He had Jess, that much was for certain. Gwen, who seemed to go with her bidding, held a good heart about the ethics of arranged marriage. She turned her nose up at it, the suggestion that you would be forced into a marriage with an old, cruel king. Lyla, his Lyla, held no apprehension to the plan. She treated him with deference, seeking only his happiness as his best friend.

Would this-- being king-- make him happy? 

Miguel looked down. Soft pink roses, ripe and ready for the rose-picking festival. Your last, if things went to your father’s plan. He hadn’t thought about it: about how you might feel in the push for another engagement. Not one to an aged, cruel man-- but… he never thought to find you, to ask. He wasn’t sure he could stomach the rejection and yet still force you into a marriage with him. 

It wasn’t that he wanted to-- but had to.

Miguel turned his hand into the suit vest across his chest, removing a bit of aged parchment with a broken wax seal. He turned his finger over the old ink. In every interaction I face, I long to spot you, hidden among the roses, the lilies, to be one of the heads of delighted harvesters. But you are not here. You are never here. I fear you never may be.

“Miggy,” Lyla said. “Miggy look.” 

Miguel lifted his head to look at Lyla. She wasn’t looking at him, peering across the garden, somewhere Miguel couldn’t see from where he stood. He lifted his dark brown boots, stomping around the corner. His sharp red eyes were wide in shock, bags of exhaustion lifted by your sight. Had it-- really been eight years? 

Panic works in tandem with longing. He could run for Jess’s chambers, crumple there like the very coward that ran this fastly crumbling kingdom. Face you another day. He couldn’t help but indulge himself in the gentle lilt of your voice, the way you rolled the ‘r’ on his last name, even though it was very much not an ‘r’ to be rolled. 

“Is that you, Miguel O’Hara? ¿De verdad?” 

No, Miguel thought. Not yet. 

His mind was overwrought, more stimulation than he had in months of battling the sea. He could climb ropes, fix sails, fight pirates, throw out orders, and care for the ports. No issue. None. But as you stood there, looking finer than any treasure he ripped from the hands of the most experienced of pirates, he found himself unable to locate his practiced words. 

You were meant to be his. To be by his side. Of that much, he was certain. Miguel folded the letter in his hand and tucked it back into his dark coat, exploring your gown. A light, white off-the-shoulder dress, embroidered in teal and ombre details, with the most beautiful seafoam bowed sash. You pulled at the rebozo over your long dripping sleeves, the jewels of your hairpieces tinking together as you moved, pulling up your skirts saucily over your ankle. 

“Is it not the admiral?” your handmaiden whispered. 

“I did not know he was back,” said the other. 

“Please excuse us, girls. Lady Lyla, I would prefer a private audience with the admiral. If you would,” 

“Of course! Of course, come, hurry up, you're slow--” Lyla did not need to be told twice. She made herself scarce, grabbing the mid-backs of the girls, forcing them up the steps and out of sight. Miguel dipped down to take a lantern that one of the girls had forgotten.

“Hola, mi amor,” 

Miguel turned around, offering you his forearm. Your jeweled eyes fell on it. You took his broad arm with one hand, minding the train of your dress in the other. The pads of your fingers shifted along the muscle. It took a moment for him to register your curious touch. The increase in his muscle mass, particularly as of late, must have been jarring. His brows knit together, his eyes crinkling around the edges in a way that reflected his age by sea. You moved through your gardens. Miguel, your ever-patient servant, followed your lead.

At night time, your garden was impossibly beautiful. It was lined by bushels of healthy, salt-tolerant roses, cloaked in the secret of darkness. Miguel remembered the small pond as if it were yesterday, the secret place of his youth. Small bugs sang in the heaviness of your mutual silence, breaking with the pop of your lips.

“I saw you had a letter in your hands. From a woman, perhaps?” 

He lifted his hand, offering the lack of a marriage band. No wife, not even a love on a distant shore. The memory of your kisses, your bodies strewn in bed, overrode any ability for him to find another woman. What happened to your eyes-- you began, reaching to touch him. He turned his face away. You were the first to notice. Or, perhaps, just unbothered by tethers of propriety.

“You are still unmarried? Then why did you never answer my letters?” 

“What would you have me say, princesa?” Miguel’s words came at last. He hadn’t meant them to come out the way they did. A long, painful lament on his tongue, marked with barbs. “You chose your family over my proposal. Your rejection was quite clear.” 

“You, above everyone else, should know it was not an easy choice. I could not have told them the truth.” You sat down on your stone bench, fixing your skirts. “You would have hung.” 

“Yes... well. How funny is it that they are now dead,” he bit out. “While I stand here alive.” 

Your eyes were bright, watery, bits of tears slipping down from the corners of your eyes, over pink blush at your cheeks. Shit, he hadn't meant to say that. A slow breath leaked from his mouth. You stood up, brushing the tears away with the flowing sleeves. It hurt to see your pain well to the surface.

“Miggy, I know you hate them, but please don’t talk ill of the dead. They did what they thought was best for our nation and nothing more.” 

Right-- to secure the possibility of an alliance through an arranged marriage, how charitable of them. You stood before a bushel of roses, turning your eyes over the fat blooms as an excuse not to look at him. You poisoned your mind with the lies of your father and brothers. He turned you, lip trembling.

“What of what was best for you?” His hand found your cheek, rolling away the tears that spilled openly before those in the garden. The sentinel who watched, the flowers that grew in peace. You leaned into his touch, eyes closing at the comforting warmth that welled up in your chest. He was here, again. “That has always been the only thing that I am concerned with.” 

“I know. My brothers couldn’t understand. They only understood politics.” 

“What of your father? He knows how I feel.” Miguel said. The words were smooth and soft, gentle like the sill waters of your pond. “He may not know that I was your first--” 

“Miggy,” 

“Your virginity belongs to me. Stone cannot take it,” he punctuates the words. They seem to draw some ancient feelings loose, drawing back with your hand to your chest, cooling the heat that bubbled in your chest at the mere memory. His voice milded out, a smile warring at the corners of his lips. Eight years, and he knew you thought of that very warm summer’s night on the pavilion.  "But your father would still allow you to live in misery."

You're not thinking of your father when Miguel speaks of such silly, youthful things. It's hurled into the past.

“You remember.” The tone in his voice pulled at a question, but he asked none. You tugged on your rebozo and turned away from Miguel once more, embarrassed. He couldn’t resist. His hands cupped your slight shoulders, rippled with goosebumps, though it was not a cold night out. His lips worked on your ears, kissing the delicate earrings that dripped from your earlobes. “The last day of the rose harvest.” 

“Miggy, not here.” 

“Your guards fell ill for their night shift. I took their place. You bathed in petals and perfumed your skin that night. I dare say, on purpose. You were so good for me.” 

The memory must have made you clench, your blood runs warm, leaning into the soft kiss he set behind your ear, the scrape of his fang. Oh, stars, you cried.

“We should stop, my father--”

“Knows what love we have. Even if he is a spineless coward.”  

“Have? Miggy?” 

He held his chin level, swaying where he stood, seeking some acknowledgment that your feelings had not changed. For what seemed like the hundredth time that night, you faced him. In place of a response, silence was the best course of action. A grim smile worked on his face, his head pounding with the lack of alcohol, that little friend of his that had made these years pass so easily. You tugged him forward.

“You are mine?” you ask. 

“I am yours. I am loyal to you before anyone else.” 

To his surprise, you held out your hand, your fingers twiddling at him. 

“Then prove your loyalty to me.” You hummed. “Give me that letter. I want it.” 

“You can’t trust me, can you?” He sighed, slipping his hand into his coat pocket. Finally pulling it free, he unraveled it. Its crispy, flaked edges slipped from your fingertips. The royal seal glimmered in your eyes, wrought in sudden delight at your own handwriting. 

“This is mine. And you’ve kept it so close to your heart this whole time? Oh, Miggy,” 

“Don’t start,” Miguel took a step away, rubbing the frustration out of his forehead. Blood rushed to Miggy’s dark face. He should be so lucky that it was night, that the moon was not full, and that you would not weaponize it. You plucked up your skirts, daring a twirl, jewelry jingling, skirts whirling. His lips pulled in a smile at your delight, a party all on your own. Congratulations on your victory, he wanted to say, as if it hadn't resulted in years of endless longing.

“I knew it.” 

“You did not,” Miguel bit out, kicking out his feet over the inky blades of glass. “You interrogated me regarding its source. Another woman when I have a princess? How asinine.” 

“Oh, Miggy. If you write me a letter, just one,” you settled it back in his coat jacket. “I can be at peace with this marriage. I’ll close my eyes and think of you.” 

His mind reeled at your words. He shot you a wan look, which you returned with a confused flicker of your long lashes, wondering what you said that was so wrong. Miguel looked toward the armed guards, men who-- in the day, he served with. He trusts them in a way that is unique to service under the crown-- to you. 

“What sort of man do you take me for?” he bit out, his tone tapering dangerously low. “To think I would allow you to marry that man?”

“What choice do I--” 

“You listen to your father regarding the oddest things. You would marry an archaic sack of shit but not the love of your life.” 

“Oh,” breath punched from your chest, exhaled in a shaky breath. Your hand came to your chest, twiddling the jewelry at your chest. Miguel turned his head back to face yours, his scarlet eyes trained on yours. “I wasn’t aware of your offer.” 

He couldn’t help it. Not anymore. The time at sea, eight years of suppressed pleasure through memories of your warmth, and the letters you sent all culminated in overcoming longing. He dipped down, his lips sliding against yours. He swept his tongue past your lips, drawing you closer with a stabilizing hand behind your back. He was many things, but never a coward, savoring the tender taste of fig and honey and you on your lips. You were as sweet as he remembered. His lips parted, words barely a puff.

“I don't believe I ever retracted it, Princesa.” 

Yes, you say delightfully. He wonders if you'll still say yes after you learn of what he's done. He doesn't always like the decisions he has to make-- but they're for your good. One day, perhaps, you'll understand.

[milliesfishes]

hiii congrats on hitting 300 followers!! i’m always rereading your girl dad blurb you did for billy, i was wondering if you could some more of it?? like the thought of him doting on his baby is soo cute to me😭

(thank you lovey!! <3) ౨ৎ꣑ৎbilly with your daughter౨ৎ꣑ৎ fem reader x billy the kid

Before laying eyes on his daughter for the first time, Billy didn't believe in love at first sight.

But when he saw the baby in your arms after the most tumultuous hours of both your life and his, he felt the stirrings in his heart. This was pure, undoubtable love. Pressing a kiss to your sweaty forehead and smoothing your hair back, he made a vow right then and there. He would always protect his girls.

Annie was the second love of his life, as sweet and good as any baby could be. She was always smiling, always wanting to be held and cuddled. Billy gave into her every time, unable to resist those little eyes, the ones that matched yours to a T.

He spent hours with her, bouncing her on his knee and making silly faces at her to try and coax that bubbly giggle out. She loved her daddy too, clapping her hands together and reaching for him every time he walked into the room.

Billy's favorite thing was to watch you with her, your hair falling over Annie's little body as you spoke or sang softly to her. Sometimes when he came home after a long day it'd be to that glorious sight, and he would just watch for a moment before making his presence known.

Today was one of those days- he was watching you, his sweetheart, lying in the garden on your back with Annie sitting next to you, a messy bunch of flowers closed in her chubby fist. You were smiling peacefully, hair spread out over the grass, dress ridden up to your knees as you traced a finger over your baby's arm. The soft glow of the sunshine made you both look like angels.

"There's my two favorite girls," he said as he walked over, kneeling at your side. He reached over and ruffled Annie's wispy hair. She babbled up at him, holding out the flowers to him. "F' me?" he gasped, taking the bunch from her. "Why thank ya, Miss Annie." She giggled up at him, reaching up her little arms and wanting to be held. He made a quiet rahhhh sound at her as he reached over you and swooped his baby up into his arms, flying her over to sit on his chest much to her delight.

You sat up, smiling and letting your hair fall to the side, the sunlight in the background making it glow. "She's been missing Daddy."

"Awwh, didja baby girl?" he kissed Annie's cheeks. "Mwah. Gotta spend time with Momma though. I'm mighty jealous."

"Annie, you wanna give Daddy a kiss?" you reached out and held her little hand, then gave Billy a knowing smile. "We learned kisses today."

"Didja now?" Billy sat up, bringing Annie with him. "Lemme see!"

"C'mon Annie, go mwah!" you blew a kiss at your baby.

"Mah!" Annie pressed a tiny hand to her mouth and flung it away.

"There ya go!" Billy laughed, affection bubbling in his chest. He kissed Annie's cheek with a smack! "That's right sweetheart, mwah." He grinned at you. "Teachin' her kisses...she's gonna be a heartbreaker."

"Just kisses," you insisted, sitting back on your hands. "All I did was teach her kisses."

"Ya did a mighty fine job of it," he replied, letting Annie grasp his finger and wave it around. "'m gonna have to start loadin' up on bullets. Sit on the porch with a shotgun." Billy bounced Annie on his lap, addressing her. "Cause you're gonna be as pretty as Momma, huh? Yeah, you're a pretty girl."

You laughed and laid back flat on the grass. Billy set Annie to the side, letting her watch a nearby butterfly before turning over and reaching for you. He wrapped his arms around your waist and buried his face in your hair, pressing several sweet kisses to your head. "Yeah, Momma's the best kisser."

He kissed you long and deep, and you pulled back, giving him a look. "Not in front of Annie. Don't wanna teach her that kind of kissing yet."

"Right." Billy took his hat off his head and plopped it on Annie's head. It covered her eyes and she giggled, waving her hands up. Turning back to you, he grinned, diving back down and capturing your lips in his. You laughed, letting him roll you onto his chest so you were right on top of him.

Kissing him softly, you let your hair fall around his face, and he grasped your hips, hands sliding to your bottom and squeezing lightly. You squealed lightly into his mouth, pulling back and raising an eyebrow. "Billy."

He gave you one last lingering kiss and sat up so you were straddling his lap. Turning to Annie, you saw she was still sitting with Billy's hat shielding her eyes. Billy giggled, plucking the hat back and scooping her back up to hold between you.

Annie reached up and pulled on Billy's handkerchief around his neck, putting the end in her mouth. He grinned, pulling it away. "Let's not be eatin' Daddy's things, sweetie."

You took Annie into your arms and she grabbed a fistful of your hair. Billy winced. "Woah there, little lady. Be gentle with Momma's hair."

Giving him a smile, you pried her little fist away. "She's just a baby."

"Well-" Billy gave you a fond smile. He wrapped his arms around the two of you, burying his face in your hair, humming lowly. "My girls."

It was a lovely scene- Billy kissed your hair and held you close, your sweet baby between you. Suddenly sentimental, he murmured, "I can't even begin to tell ya how grateful I am for you, sweetheart." He kissed your hair, holding his lips to your head. "You've given me a family, something I never thought I'd have."

You smiled softly, looking up at him. "Billy..."

"It's true, sweet," he muttered. "Never thought I'd have somethin' like this. Somethin' real." Billy caught your lips in a sweet kiss, stroking the head of the little girl between you. "You're the best thing that ever happened to me, darlin'. Best thing by a mile."

[sokkastyles]

Today was the first day of school and I put on Avatar for my class at dismissal, and one thing I noticed from the first episode is Iroh telling Zuko that "a man needs his rest," before going to take a nap, and telling Zuko that he also needs sleep and tries to discourage him from hunting the Avatar.

Right away we see the dissonance in Iroh's apathy towards what Zuko sees as a glorious quest, and we'll also learn in the next few episodes that Iroh also cares for Zuko, but this line is also foreshadowing for when Iroh echoes the sentiment that a man needs his rest at the finale, after the siege of the North. This time, it's Zuko who expresses that he is "tired," although the unspoken meaning is that it is starting to become evident that Zuko's glorious destiny may not be as glorious as he thinks, and even Zuko is starting to realize it after witnessing Zhao's self-destructive pride and megalomania that led to his death.

[sashasienna]

🔜

I've learned that, to really nail the great Wanting to Stay Alive Project that I'll probably be working on my whole life, I need to always have at least one thing to look forward to. More is better, and I try to find things for multiple time frames. Sometimes this means planning exciting events for the future, and sometimes it's choosing to look for everyday things to be excited about.

Right now, my excitement calendar looks something like this:

Today: I made really delicious spaghetti for dinner last night and I'm going to use some of the leftover ingredients to make lunch, which I hope will be equally delicious (I love to eat so meals are often one of the things I look forward to).

This week: Jonny and I are meeting with a mortgage adviser on Tuesday so we can start properly looking for a house. I'm not super psyched about the meeting itself, but the fact it's happening makes me feel really hopeful about the future overall. I also have a haircut appointment on Thursday, which is a mundane thing but I have a really great gender-affirming barber so it always makes me feel good.

This month: my brother turns 30 in a few weeks and a bunch of us are going camping for the weekend to celebrate. I'm not a good camper but it's a short trip and I'm really looking forward to celebrating with him. He's really cool and one of my best friends.

1-3 months: I'm going to a big outdoor music festival to see Blink-182 in about 6 weeks. I'm going with a really good friend and I can't wait for us to be the old people at the festival: we've paid a bit extra to use the grown-up campsite with flushing toilets and mattresses and we're gonna hang at the back of the crowds and be in bed by midnight and have an amazing time.

3-6 months: I'm going to visit some friends in Nottingham who I haven't seen in way too long. They're gonna teach me to play Kill Team, so I get to do a lot of mini-painting as a sort of active anticipation between now and then!

6+ months: I've just booked accommodation for me and a bunch of friends to go to an incredible TTRPG convention that's always my favourite week of the year. It's a straight week of renting out a holiday park by a gloomy beach in the middle of January and doing nothing but playing RPGs. It's absolutely glorious.

I haven't included a lot of game nights or tabletop conventions I'm attending for work, because I don't have time to write them all down and it would get repetitive, but they're also things I look forward to a lot and they give my life some structure it sorely needs!

[tobiasdrake]

On that note, Buffy and Angel were both great series and I love them both. But they're also profoundly different in ways that I think both complement and contrast one another.

Buffy was a show about growing up. It famously used the vanquishing of evil as a metaphor for the coming of age. The show married its supernatural elements with its teen drama to such a degree that it basically invented the "Supernatural Metaphor".

Angel was a show about adulthood. Angel also married its supernatural elements to its drama, but the troubles Angel faced were things like paying your bills, home ownership, and parenthood.

An iconic moment of Buffy is when her mom suddenly dies, and Buffy has to step into the role of parenting her little sister. Something that neither of them are truly ready for, thrusting her into the unenviable position of both grieving daughter and too-soon responsible adult.

An iconic moment of Angel is when Cordelia has to teach to him that he needs to start charging clients money for his services because they won't be able to keep the lights on if he doesn't. An argument Cordelia wins, in stark contrast to how many other shows would play it. Because the reality is... You gotta pay the rent somehow.

And this contrast carries over into the shows' respective relationships with evil. Buffy is a show about vanquishing evil. The evil of Buffy the Vampire Slayer is concrete and visceral. The world is filled with monsters, and Buffy is charged with the ability to kill them. Any evil force can be fought, can be overcome, can be slain. Buffy needs only to find the means to do so.

Angel is a show about resisting evil, both from within and without. It's the complexity of a broken world, where people are complicated and there are no easy answers. The show lays out its moral philosophy in its second season with the words:

"If there is no great, glorious end to this, if nothing we do matters, then the only thing that matters is what we do. Because that's all there is: What we do. ... Because if there is no bigger meaning, then the smallest act of kindness is the greatest thing in the world."

It's a series about finding forgiveness and understanding within yourself, and learning how to be better tomorrow than you were today. Set in a world where the evil is systemic, where it is embedded in social constructs. Where it can never truly be defeated, but where we can choose to rise above it.

And I think both of these positions have very good things to say. The nihilistic positivity of "The smallest act of kindness is the greatest thing in the world" is a profound guideline for how we should live in a world that's too big and too complex. But sometimes, problems really do just need a stake to the heart. Sometimes it is simple and, y'know, fuck that guy. But other times it's not.

And we see both of their approaches shine in a variety of ways. Buffy ends by pitting Buffy against an Angel-esque force of systemic and undefeatable evil. Something that can never truly be overcome, that cannot be vanquished. Something that Buffy vanquishes anyway, by recognizing the power of collective action to do what individual agency could never.

Buffy vanquishes a force of evil far beyond her by democratizing her power and becoming a single cog of a larger movement.

By contrast, Angel has the healing and reformation of Faith Lehane. The two-parter "Five by Five" and "Sanctuary" in season 1 are, I would say, the point at which Angel's series really finds its identity and truly becomes its own thing.

Faith is a character who, by this point, has locked horns with Buffy multiple times. She's reached the end of her rope, clashing and being vanquished by Buffy one final time in Buffy's own season four before fleeing across series to fight Angel.

A confrontation that turns from a tense battle with the Evil Slayer into a story of healing, regret, and self-improvement. Here, far away from Buffy and from Sunnydale and from the mistakes, Faith is given a safe space to unpack the choices that she's made and figure out who she wants to be.

A story that culminates in confrontation between Buffy and Angel over Faith, as Buffy comes looking for some honestly well-deserved violent catharsis only for Angel to have to tell her, "This is my show, this is how I handle my storylines, and you're not a part of it. Get out." Which is... really the moment when Angel ceases to be a Buffy supporting character spinning off and comes into his own as the lead of his own series, with his own ideas and stories to tell.

The collective vanquishing of the First Evil is a story that simply would not make sense to tell in Angel. And, by the same token, the healing and restoration of Faith Lehane is a story that simply couldn't fit into Buffy, with its more black-and-white perspective. There shows have very different perspectives, and neither of them are really right. But together, they form a more complete tapestry of living in a complicated world.

[insanityclause]

Coming to viewers from the end of time seated upon his throne on Yggdrasil, the God of Mischief is bestowing upon his loyal subjects the most highly-anticipated release of the year: Loki Season 2 on 4K UHD. Today, Marvel Studios announced that fans of the Tom Hiddleston-led Disney+ series can expect to add the critically celebrated follow-up season to their collection on December 3, 2024. There’s plenty to be excited about here as, along with the six-episode season, buyers will also get their hands on a gorgeously crafted SteelBook with exclusive art and collector's cards nestled inside. If content is more your thing, there’s plenty to feast your eyes upon with heaps of bonus features to keep you entertained.

The first season of Loki left audiences on quite a cliffhanger, forcing us to wait more than two full years for the next lineup of episodes to drop. But, boy, were they worth the wait. Season 2 of the beloved series followed Loki and his ragtag group of outcast TVA workers as they tried to find the truth about what was happening within the organization's walls. Solidifying himself as the hero we’ve always known him as, Loki finds his glorious purpose by the time the credits roll on the heartfelt, emotional second season.

‘Loki’ Season 2’s Bonus Features

If you can’t get enough of Loki, the bonus features included in the special release will give you the extra fix you’ve been looking for as you’ll laugh, cry, and cheer right alongside the folks who brought Loki’s story to the small screen. Take a look down Hiddleston’s personal sacred timeline as the featurette, Loki Through Time, digs into the actor’s more than decade of playing the character. No special features list would be complete without a gag reel and with a cast that includes Owen Wilson, the laughs are endless.

There are also a handful of deleted scenes, featuring more of Sylvie’s (Sophia Di Martino) story as a McDonald’s employee and another that sits audiences down with Mobius (Wilson) and Loki as they enjoy a slice of key lime pie. Finally, fans can pull the curtain back on the making of the series as they step onto the set and see how the show was pulled together. Nothing like the magic of Marvel right at your fingertips! Check out the full list of bonus features below:

Loki Through Time — Travel through over a decade of Loki’s timeline with Tom Hiddleston, Kevin Feige and more as they dive deeper into the villainous yet lovable character that fans can’t get enough of in the Loki series.

Gag Reel — Take a look at some of the fun moments on set with the cast an crew of Loki Season 2.

Deleted/Extended Scenes

What Would You Like? — Distraught after the events of season 1, Sylvie leaves the Citidel at the End of Time and finds an escape in a McDonald's in 1982.

Key Lime Break — Loki and Mobius share a moment savoring a key lime pie in the TVA lunchroom.

Roll Call — Loki names off all the people who have spoken ill of him in the past, including a few recognizable names. Mobius tries to comfort him.

Assembled: The Making of Loki Season 2 — Join the cast and crew of Loki Season 2 as they pull back the curtain on Loki’s Iatest MCU adventure.

Take a look at the gorgeous SteelBook artwork above and plan to pick up a copy of Loki Season 2 4K UHD for yourself or the mischievous troublemaker in your life on December 3. Both seasons of Loki are now streaming on Disney+.

[enmstorytime]

The Amusement Park: Chapter 2

My triple-layer underwear bunched under my shorts as we walked through the front gates of the amusement park. While the sensation of bunched up cotton under my glutes wasn't ideal, it was a reminder of what was in store for the rest of the day. On the drive down to the park, I had avoided looking at my husband, afraid that in my already elevated horny state, I would wish his clothes away, and he'd turn the car around and drive us home completely naked. A hot idea that did keep me rock hard and a little leaky in my crotch area for the whole drive. But I could live out that particular fantasy some other time by just asking my husband to chauffer me somewhere completely naked. Today, my birthday was about experiencing things (specifically: seeing men's naked bodies) I hadn't before.

I didn't realize how hard it would be to resist imagining so many men naked. We had made it through the parking lot and through security, and despite having a thing for young, hot dads and men in uniform, I'd managed to avoid looking at most men. When I did catch myself peeking at any man, I looked away and practiced my edging skills, imagining the least sexy things I could, taking deep breaths, and pinching my thighs through my shorts pockets.

But now we were in the park, my husband and I hand in hand.

"I didn't know if you'd make it this far," my husband said. "There was a security guard back there who could have been Chris Evans's stunt double."

"I wasn't looking," I said, my reactive cock starting to stiffen again. I pinched my thigh to try to cool down again after picturing America's ass freed from its CGI super suit. "And you have to shut up."

"I will," my husband said. "But I'd be a terrible husband if I didn't point out that ginger dilf straight ahead."

My kryptonite.

I looked up from the cobblestone path and saw him, the millennial red-headed father of two, pushing a two-seater stroller. He wore shorts, with a snake tattoo climbing from his calf up under the hem of his five inch shorts. I couldn't stop the thought:

I'd love to see that whole tattoo.

One second he was walking, his tennis shoes on the cobblestones, his hands on the stroller, his manbun bouncing with each step, his body hidden under a muscle shirt and shorts. The next second every stitch of clothing on his body was gone, and his whole tattoo (and body) was on display.

In my experience, most men realized they were magically denuded faster than I wanted them to. For one glorious second, I soaked in his matted armpit hair under his extended, rippling arms, his hot, daddy cock flopping into freedom, but before I could really enjoy the tug of gravity pulling on his exposed dick, he had yelped, let go of the stroller, and clamped his hands over his nether regions.

"Kevin," his wife hissed. "Where the hell are your clothes."

Between his yelp and his wife's fury, every eye in the crowded entry of the park was fixed on Kevin, whose body was turning as red as the ginger hair that dusted his beautiful body.

"I don't fucking know!" Kevin said, still clinging desperately to his penis, and turning his back to hide his ass against the back of the stroller.

We could hear their interchange because the crowd looking on had fallen silent, everyone watching Kevin and his wife, but the silence was broken with a wolf-whistle from my husband. A few people joined in. A few more people cheered. But several were scandalized. I saw an older Karen woman scurry off to grab the shoulder of a security guard.

"We have to move," my husband said, grabbing my bare shoulder.

Unlike Kevin, I had not realized that any of my clothing had disappeared. But true to the birthday magic, I'd spent the past twelve years learning, there was a cost. And it was a heftier cost than I had expected. Nothing truly scandalous, but my overshirt, shirt, and undershirt had each dissolved.

As badly as I wanted to hang around to watch security interact with the very handsome, incredibly naked Kevin, I didn't want to be caught guilty by association. I let my mind play out a fantasy of Kevin being hauled out the gates of the park, arms handcuffed behind his back, cock swinging free, while his wife and children looked on. My own cock pressed against my three layers of underwear, dripping precum.

My husband pulled me away from the scene. The last thing we heard was the security guard shouting, "What is the meaning of this, sir? This is a family park."

"You're topless," my husband said as we rounded a corner and left the scene entirely. "How did that happen?"

"I don't know," I said, the anxiety calming down my cock once again, although I wasn't positive how much more stiffening and relaxing my penis could handle in one day. "I thought we had planned well enough for this, but that was three articles for the cost of one man. That's never happened before."

"You've never worn layers before on your birthday," my husband said. "Maybe the magic doesn't like being cheated."

"Well shit," I said, crossing my arms over my chest, not loving having my nipples out in such a crowded space. "I don't think I can make it a whole day if the magic is charging such high costs."

"We spent over a hundred dollars a person to be here," my husband said. "We haven't even ridden one ride. Could you hold in your perverted thoughts for one ride?"

We had spent so much money to be here, and while I didn't love the risk, I had made it all the way to the park, and I'd only seen one man naked, and that man I hadn't even seen for very long. I wanted more.

"Okay," I said. "Either, the magic is ignoring layers or it's taking three for the price of one. If it's the first, the magic has always given me a shirt, pants, underwear, and footwear. That still gives me two more chances before we have to leave, or I risk arrest. If it's the second, and everything costs three, I've got two shoes, two socks, pants, and three pairs of underwear."

"So, regardless, we've got two more hot men to strip," my husband said with a grin. "We'll use the second man as a distraction to get you out of the park."

I couldn't argue with the logic. Either I'd be sneaking out in three layers of underwear, or I'd sneak out in a jockstrap. Neither was ideal, but as I remembered the beautiful arc of the red-headed dilf's penis flopping into freedom, I decided it was time to move deeper into the park.

[epicbuddieficrecs]

Throwback Rec!

Helloooooooo!

I've mentioned this when I first started the blog, but unlike with my previous rec blogs, there was quite a long period of time between the time when I started reading buddie fics and when I started this blog (live, five-ish months). Consequently, there's a lot of fics I've read during that period that I've never recced! So I thought I'd try to do a "Throwback" rec once in a while to rec these fics. Enjoy!

this must be the place by euadnes/ @kananjarus (Canon Divergent, Post-Shooting | 75K | Teen): Every life altering event is often led up to with a series of other important events. In this case, there were at least three: An unstoppable fire. An afternoon spent underneath a blanket of California blue sky. But firstly, and maybe the most important of all: There was the impeccable aiming of an ex-sharpshooter. *** Or, the Buck is also shot by the sniper AU that no one asked for.

🔥 Benign Fatality by EtoileGarden/ @etoilegarden (Time Loop AU, Season 2-4 | 23K | Teen): Buck repeats days until he doesn't die in them, has an underdeveloped sense of self worth, and Eddie is the one who wants to step in with him.

must be some kind of twist, I could get used to this by soyxunxperdedor/ @messyhairdiaz (Post-S4, Accidental Marriage | 38K | Explicit): He doesn’t remember much from last night, even less after the fourth or fifth tequila shot. So he certainly doesn’t remember bringing someone back to his room. He steels himself for the lancing pain and cracks his eyes open. Oh. Oh no. This is either really bad or… Well, not really good, but just. Not really bad, and that’s probably all Buck can ask for it to be. Because Eddie is in his bed, Eddie’s arm is wrapped around his waist, Eddie’s legs are tangled with his. And he has no idea why.

🔥 in the night we trust by glorious_spoon/ @glorious-spoon (Canon Divergent, Pre-S4 | 29K | Explicit): Eddie and Buck start sleeping together when they're all stuck at Buck's place during lockdown. It still takes them almost three years to notice that they're in love.

🔥 Didn't think you meant it by EtoileGarden/ @etoilegarden (Friends to Fiancés to Lovers, Post-S5 | 33K | Explicit): “I want - I want to get to - to have some sort of - of promise that I’m… loved. And. And worthy. And that I get to always go to bed knowing I’m - I’m fully, like, mentally, physically, legally committed to this person who - who’ll always have my back, who’ll always - always be there when I need them. But I guess,” Buck shook his head. “I guess I’m starting to really - really believe that maybe I’m not actually built for that. For - for someone actually wanting to commit to me, to marry me. So I - I think seeing the wedding today just kinda cemented in my brain that no one would want to marry me.”  “I’d marry you,” Eddie said, patted his knee. 

🔥 standing on the brink of emptiness by woodchoc_magnum/ @woodchoc-magnum (Post-Shooting | 71K | Mature): In which Eddie is struggling in the aftermath of being shot, learning how to take care of himself and realising he's in love with Buck; and Buck is dating Taylor, taking care of Eddie and Christopher and trying to figure out why he's so goddamn confused about everything.

🔥 Muscle Memory by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars (Amnesia AU | 40K | Teen): After a disappointment in his personal life, Buck wakes up one morning to find everyone he loves has forgotten him completely. No memories. No recognition. Almost like he was never really there.

oh, my dream (never quite as it seems) by woodchoc_magnum/ @woodchoc-magnum (S6, Friends with Benefits | 44K | Explicit): In which Buck and Eddie are trying out a friends-with-benefits thing (that's rapidly turning into more) when the world comes crashing down on them. As Buck hovers somewhere between life and death, Eddie has to deal with their friends, family and the Buckley parents.

It’s Not the Roaring Dream, It’s the Silent Lightning by giselleslash (Coma AU | 15K | Mature): Buck gets struck by lightning and wakes up in another life where he has everything he’s ever wanted, but soon that life starts to crumble around him and the painful pull back into reality nearly breaks his heart. (or the one where Buck is married to Eddie in a coma dream and he doesn’t want to let the dream go.)

found a park bench for a throne by withoutthetiger / @rewritetheending (Post-S6 | 23K | Teen): Set in S7, when Buck goes back to therapy and Eddie is there to comfort him after each session, much like Buck did for him in 5x14. They're friends, of course, but Eddie can only soothe Buck for so long before it becomes impossible to deny that they're also so much more.

I love the way you spoil me, baby by rosebuddiekin/ @giddyupbuck (Sugar Daddy Buck AU | 33K | Explicit): Buck is a sugar daddy who wants to spoil Eddie rotten and take care of everything for him. Eddie has never had that sort of relationship but is willing to give it a try. There is plenty of adventure along the way.

🔥 In the Gray You are Golden by letmetellyouaboutmyfeels (Zombie Apocalypse AU | 26K | Explicit): When the world fell apart, Eddie did his best to keep his son safe. But now winter's coming on, their supplies are dwindling, and Christopher needs medical attention, so Eddie takes the chance to move them across the country to the west coast, where the rumored 118 Safezone takes in all survivors. Buck's proud to be a member of the 118's search and rescue teams, but he can't shake the conviction that his lost sister is still alive in the wasteland. When he sneaks out to find her, he runs into Eddie and Chris instead, and vows to get them to the 118 safely. But the wasteland has many ways of tearing people apart, and the undead are just one trick up its sleeve...

🔥 you and me by woodchoc_magnum/ @woodchoc-magnum (S6 Fix-It | 55K | Mature): An alternate ending to Season 6, where Buck realises that what he's been searching for has been right in front of him the whole time.

🔥 The Education of Eddie Diaz by mansikka (Pre-S4, Friends With Benefits | 32K | Explicit): Eddie doesn't really know how it happened. One moment the 118 are drunk in a bar after a hard shift, confessions slipping from his mouth as he playfully kisses Buck on the cheek. The next he is on Buck's couch, taking up Buck's offer of an education that could be asking for trouble. But it's just sex, and they're just friends; it doesn't mean anything to either of them. So why is his time alone with Buck the highlight of his week?

🔥 i see you in my sheets (i see you in my sleep) by elless (Post-S6A, Friends with Benefits | 25K | Explicit): Buck and Eddie are FWB, act like boyfriends, and are suuuuper dumb and oblivious about everything.

🔥 a bleeding sun on a silver screen by rarakiplin (gmontys)/ @hoediaz (Actors AU, Friends With Benefits | 130K | Mature): One day, Buck will tell an interviewer that he would be happy to make movies with Eddie Diaz until the day he dies. But first, years before that, he sees Eddie for the first time on the set of Chimney’s fifth movie.

handle me with care by woodchoc_magnum/ @woodchoc-magnum (Canon to S6E9, Getting Together | 42K | Mature): In which Eddie tries dating again, and slowly comes to terms with his feelings for Buck.

Your Kiss Might Kill Me (So Won't You Kill Me) by morganofthefairies (PWP, BDSM | 9K | Explicit): Buck hadn’t been a virgin by the time he’d hit Peru – not even close. He still considered Peru a critical point in his sexual history, though, because Peru had brought him Fiona, and he was pretty sure he could credit her with like 80% of his sexual knowledge. None of that was the point, though. The point was that, six years later, when Eddie called for the jaws to get to a woman pinned in her car while responding to an 8-car pileup, and absentmindedly called him a good boy as Buck handed them over, he had a totally normal reaction to it.