#new stream banner

[gawki]

Streaming!

Tuesdays and Fridays @ 8 pm CST

[im-adrienne]

Y’all, we’re changing things up and it’s beautiful to see.

[aomiiine]

HE LOVES HIS OFFICER!

𐔌  .   𝑺𝑻𝑨𝑹𝑹𝑰𝑵𝑮 ⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆  ୧ ──── PRAEDATOR! SYLUS + ENFORCER! FEM READER

W☆RNINGS. N!SFW/MDNI (18+) — cockhead pinching, hate fucking vibes, orgasm denial/orgasm delay, cock ring, handjob, cock slapping (once), feral sylus, tame(?) bdsm-ish vibes, restraints (chains obv), a bit predator/prey dynamic, slight praise kink (reader), might be ooc sylus but idc lol, switch m & f, overstim, hints of corruption (sylus -> you), quite heavy degradation (reader to him & him to reader. ie; slut, bitch, animal, etc.), that tongue scene lmaoaoa, kind of (not canon) improvised lore at the end, ‘kitten’ is used twice i think, all smut no plot, not proofread wordcount is 1.7k edited to 1.9k

TAGLIST. @tinycatharsis @jellysix @wonryllis @tsukkisukkii @wonuwuuuuu

author’s comment. thinking ab making a small event for valentines day w the lnds guys based on the new banner.. tell me what u think abt this one though! also, this is just me exploring these kinks so pls pardon me if they aren’t well written :’) Comments and reblogs are deeply appreciated !! <3

“As if the frenzy enhancer wasn’t enough, you had to put a fucking cock-ring on me when I’m already this fucking hard, you slutty minx.”

Chains clanged and rattled from Sylus’s writhing, hands balling to fists in his attempt to yank the metal cuffs off him. It was in vain, of course, but you couldn’t blame him. You were tasked to interrogate him by your superior but here you were—absolutely torturing his big cock by denying every single orgasm.

It was almost sad honestly. The way his dick curved to his belly, abs flexing with every ragged breath he took. His tip leaked what seemed to be a steady stream of pre-cum staining his stomach, his arousal making a mess of the white nest on his pelvis, swollen shaft throbbing like a fucking heartbeat in anticipation on what your next move would be.

“The cock-ring was a necessary measure taken for you to speak. Since your mouth wont tell me the information I need, maybe your stupid cock will,” you scoffed at his glower, landing a slap onto his stiff cock, earning yourself a hiss. His teeth gritted and bared at you in obvious agitation from the endless heat running through his veins and the frenzy enhancer.

“Maybe if you stopped being a cruel bitch and let me cum already, I’d fucking speak.”

“Information first, reward later,” you replied swiftly, hand reaching out to wrap around his needy dick, stroking him half-heartedly, not even bothering to pay a sliver of attention to his weeping tip.

“Oh, fuck you.”

“No, thank you.”

Sylus groaned loudly, wrists tugging on the biting metal cuffs hanging over each side of his head. His breath quickened, guttural moans rumbling from his chest from the lazy strokes you gave him.

Sylus felt utterly humiliated that he was being so damn sensitive at the weak jerks of your soft palm around his slick cock, his hips rolling to fuck into your fist. His ego was bruised, but he wasn’t one to dwell on it. Instead, he’d like to move on and have you kiss fuck it better.

“Do you not know how to stroke a cock, kitten? Is my little enforcer a virgin?” Sylus’s voice was low and husky when he spoke, hands relaxing on the chain to lean down forward, his large and tall frame looming over your smaller one just before you could retaliate his remark.

The shadow sylus’s figure casted over yours was undeniably intimidating—especially so when his nearly crazed eyes gleamed at you in a predatory gaze. His head dipped closer to yours, stray strands of his white hair falling over his eyes as he searched for your irises.

It took every will in your body to not flinch, refusing to show him a single shred of weakness to exploit. Except, Sylus merely grinned at your bravado, tongue darting out to lick his lips as if he was staring at prey.

“Scared of a little proximity, my dear enforcer?” The mockery in his voice grated at your nerves, your features contorting into a grimace on instinct.

“You animal,” you seethed, grasp on his cock tightening to a point bordering on pain. Your praedator gasped sharply, leaning away to throw his head back in relief when you began stroking him, fast.

Every deliberate flick of your wrist brought hot white pleasure to his strained body, eyes closing shut with nothing but deep, drawn out groans leaving his throat. The chains began rattling against, muscles flexing with effort when he felt himself nearing an explosive orgasm.

“Yes— oh fuck, yes, make me cum, you dirty bitch,” he grunted in a near whimper, hips rocking upward uncontrollably when your hand began focusing on his crown. Your index finger and thumb created a circle around the head to stimulate his glans continuously, pads of your fingers purposely rubbing over the sensitive frenulum.

“Calling me a bitch when you’re the begging to cum like a manwhore,” you tsked disapprovingly, quickening your strokes while your glared intense at his deep red cock, the cock-ring tight on his base to keep him rock hard.

You didn’t miss the way his slit continued to leak, his arousal betrayed by the way he kept producing natural lube for you to use. “At least I’m honest—agh—fuck! I wanna cum so bad, baby, please,” Sylus stammered, head hung low with droplets of sweat falling down his flushed skin.

You considered showing him mercy at his plea, truly. His cock was throbbing around your fingers, balls drawn up tight to his body with pent up cum—why couldn’t you just let the poor man cum his brains out already?

“I don’t know.. I’m not getting the information I want,” you uttered teasingly, not truly contemplating the thought. Even if you did, the answer would always fall on ‘no’.

You could see how Sylus was on the edge of cumming with how his legs quivered subtly, abdomen muscles flexing and relax with each stroke. His cock was steaming hot in your hand, warm with fresh cum flowing up to his shaft. Yet just moments before he was about to release, your ministrations ceased, two fingers stopping just below his glans to pinch his sensitive flesh, forcefully halting his orgasm.

“Motherfucker—I was just about to fucking cum all over your uniform, you—” he snarled, nostrils flaring with every intake of breath. His nose scrunched up briefly in pure infuriation, eyes closed as he leaned his head back, the corners of his lips twitching to a smile.

“When I get out these chain, kitten, I’ll get back at you so fucking good, you’ll be crippled for weeks,” he huffed in a scoff before punctuating his threat with a harsh tug on the metal cuffs restraining him to the metal bars of the cage, the chains clattering loudly. His throat was stretched and exposed for you to see, skin glistening with perspiration and Adam’s apple bobbing.

The sudden motion startled you, sending your heart beating faster than it already was. Your assigned praedator was unhinged, you knew that much from his files—but you didn’t expect him to be this unhinged.

Despite that, it sent your heart racing rather than falling into the pit of your stomach. You felt excited, fucking thrilled even. Your pupils dilated as if you just found your fix, like a cat setting its sights on its newest toy.

“Mmhm, sure,” you muttered with a faint yet noticeable tremble to your voice. It caught Sylus’s attention in an instant.

the sweat sheened praedator finally lifted his head, tilting to the side with intrigue glinting in those crimson irises. “Are you liking this, kitten?” He said with his now hoarse voice, smirk stretching more than it should. “‘S that why you decided to make this cage for me? Using this place as your personal sex dungeon? Yeah, I see it. The eyes of the depraved.”

Sylus’s eyes narrowed with sadistic glee, no doubt pounding with satisfaction at the thought of corrupting his righteous enforcer and throbbing with an ongoing orgasm, cock still held in place by yours unwavering fingers.

It took you a moment to regain your composure, still reeling from the shot of adrenaline he gave you. Eventually, you caught yourself again, inhaling deeply before dropping your eyes to his cock between your digits, shaft still pumping with kept cum.

With a bite of your tongue, you released him of punishment, letting his cum spurt out onto his stomach in ropes.

”yesyesyesss— mmph, god fucking damn it!”

His balls pulsed with his length as thick, hot stuttering streams of semen dripped to the floor, your hand not hesitating to wrap around his girth, pulling his stiff dick towards you and letting his cum make white messes on your dark coloured uniform.

“There, I let you cum.” You spoke sounding just as winded as Sylus who was basking in the mind-numbing relief of emptying his balls to the fullest after accumulating it all in his cock for what felt like hours.

“You did.. Yes, you did, you good girl,” he slurred, no doubt basking in the afterglow shameless, hips thrusting shallowly into your hand for the slightest bit of friction.

A brow twitched when you heard him call you good girl all of the sudden. Your lashes batted at him, lips parted in surprise until your head dipped once more, averting your gaze.

The cock-ring at the base of his dick was slid off him, his body chasing your heat as you pulled away and tucked his cock back into his pants, zipping him back up. You allowed him slump bonelessly with his hands tied up above his head, leaving him panting for air.

He must’ve said it ‘cause he was drunk of the high, not because he meant it, was a mantra you repeated in your mind to convince yourself. Regardless, you couldn’t deny how it sent goosebumps up your nape, hair standing at attention, couldn’t deny how a single fleeting praise made your throat go dry and breathing quicken.

“I expect full cooperation tomorrow morning, Sylus.” you blurted, focus moving back to him before you backed away a few steps and stormed out his cage, locking it securely behind you.

You practically sped walked out the prison underground, heading straight to the elevator leading back up to your office.

Once you were in the metal box, you fished for a handkerchief in your pocket, frantically using it to wipe the stains of his seed on the front of your uniform.

With quivering hands, your rubbed it off you the best you could to fade the colour so you could excuse it a spill of chemicals or something to your colleagues—even if that wasn’t what really happened.

Your little rendzvous with a praedator—a SSS ranked dangerous praedator at that—risked more than your job. You yourself could be detained for being suspected of having intercourse with a praedator. You’d be an experiment, again, for researchers to exploit if sex could turn you into a praedator.

But unfortunately, deep down, you knew you’d come back to him again. After all, nothing intoxicated you more than dancing with that red eyed devil tied up at your mercy.

Finally reaching your office floor, you got off the elevator, walking in a bee line past your busy colleague, eyes on the ground to avoid contact with any of them. You didn’t know if you could handle speaking or explaining (lying) about your situation to anyone right now.

you pulled on the back of your chair, taking a seat and immediately holding your head in your hands, rethinking your life choices—the one where you decided to change your occupation from Hunter to Enforcer. Your hands slid down your face, eyes falling to the handkerchief, a reminder of your earlier affair.

Only then did the events dawn on you, your entire body processing the audacity and brazen display you showed Sylus. Now you crumbled in the solace of your safe space away from his predatory gaze.

A hand came up to your mouth, lips capturing a finger to nibble on when your thighs rubbed against one another, making you realise how fucking drenched your panties were. That damn praedator had you this wet in a rut without laying a finger on you—how pathetic of you.

One thing was for sure, you’d call in leave early to rub this compiled arousal off quick—it didn’t matter if you had to wet your sheets with cum, you needed this feeling gone, asap.

[osaemu]

GOJO SATORU: KISS & MAKE UP

✩ ‧ ˚. streamer!au: after the breakup, you two decide to make up in the traditional way—by having sex! NSFW

contents: fem!reader. oral (f. recieving), p –> v, teasing, praise, hair pulling (m. recieving), missionary, unprotected sex, creampie, squirting, use of pet names (too many to list here). not proofread bc you couldn't pay me to read all this again. 2.5k words. read this fic beforehand for better understanding of the context, but you don't have to.

author's note: tumblr hates me and that's why the banner quality's trash. if u wanna see the details, click here. anyways the streamer!gojo smut has finally arrived, tagging @satorena @screampied @cultrise, enjoyyy ;)

“did you tell them we’re back together?”

satoru nods in response to your question, plopping down on the couch next to you. he's spent the last hour chatting with his stream, and eventually he broke the news that you and him were back together after the breakup.

“yeah, i did,” he confirms, wrapping his arms around you and burying his face in your neck. your hands automatically move to his hair and you thread your fingers through the soft white strands, pausing after a couple seconds to give him a quick kiss on the forehead.

a week ago, you and satoru had an admittedly messy breakup—not messy in the sense that it got toxic or dramatic, but messy in the way that it could’ve easily been avoided. it wasn’t that big of a deal, but thankfully, you and satoru resolved your misunderstanding within a relatively short time.

since then, things have been a little different—satoru’s been taking a break from streaming, which gave him move time to spend with you and away from his thousands of fans. it was his suggestion, and not surprisingly, it worked. but all good things have to come to an end, and your “honeymoon” away from satoru’s stream seems to be coming to a close.

“something smells good,” satoru notes, lifting his head and glancing at the kitchen. “wait, is that ramen?” your boyfriend gasps, eyes rounding as he looks at you hopefully. 

“yeah, you said you were craving it, so i made some,” you reply with a smile, untangling yourself from his arms and walking over to the kitchen. satoru blows you a flurry of kisses that you see out of the corner of your eye as you check on the ramen, which looks pretty much done.

“y’know, i still haven’t forgiven you for the shit you pulled last week,” you say dryly, turning off the stove and draining the water from the ramen into your sink. the steam rises up as the boiling water slips down into the drain, clouding your face for a moment before it dissipates into thin air. 

“...does that mean i don’t get to eat that ramen?” satoru asks tentatively, a nervous smile on his lips as you empty a packet of flavored powder into the ramen. you shoot him a look and raise an eyebrow, turning back to the stove to hide your smile.

“maybe, maybe not,” you reply coyly, not wanting to give in too soon.

“boo, you whore.”

you roll your eyes and divide the ramen into two bowls, one for you and one for your boyfriend. “you’re lucky i’m too nice to let you starve, regina,” you say pointedly, walking back over to the couch and handing one of the bowls to him, which satoru takes with both hands—a habit from his childhood that never went away. “otherwise you’d be—”

satoru cuts you off by poking your lips with his chopsticks, steaming hot ramen wrapped around them. you reluctantly open your mouth and let him feed you, smiling when he seals the bite with a kiss. 

“best girlfriend ever,” satoru proclaims when he pulls away, a lazy smile playing on his lips. his soft blue eyes study your own, observing your unusually guarded expression and frowning.

“how many times do i gotta apologize for my bullshit before you stop making that face at me?” he grumbles, twirling his chopsticks in his bowl and taking a bite of the ramen. it’s cute how satoru’s face lights up at the taste, and it’s even cuter how his eyes round at you in awe when he takes another bite. “i didn’t know instant ramen could be this good,” he muses, licking any lingering flavor off of his lips.

“very funny, satoru,” you laugh, swirling your chopsticks around the broth and watching the rest of the steam rise from your bowl. “and to answer your question, i don’t really know.”

satoru tilts his head and takes a sip of his water, ice clinking against the side of the glass. when you respond to his question, he pauses and tilts his head in confusion. “...wait, what does that mean?”

you think for a second, choosing your words carefully. “i’m not sure how long it’ll take until we’re back to… normal,” you say cautiously. in all honesty, you weren’t that pissed off at him—you never were. but the fact that satoru was so ready to throw your relationship away over something as small as that was upsetting, to say the least. and you weren’t entirely sure it wouldn’t happen again.

satoru looks at you thoughtfully, more serious than you’ve seen him in a while. you can almost see the gears turning in his head before he replies. “any idea how i can make it up to you?”

you shrug, swallowing another bite of ramen before you meet his eyes. “you tell me. actions speak louder than words.”

your boyfriend drops his chopsticks, letting them clatter around in the bowl before he stands up. he extends a hand to you, a determined glint in his eye. “then lemme prove it to you.”

“satoru, you can’t bribe me with sex.”

“that’s not all i’ll be doing, sweetheart. trust me.”

and that’s how you ended up in his room, hands tangled in satoru’s soft white hair as he eats you out. his tongue laps at your cunt with quick, kitten-like strokes, and he presses a gentle kiss to the inside of your thigh. “feels s’good, satoru,” you breathe, involuntarily tugging on his hair and dragging out a groan from his lips. “sorry—”

“don’t apologize,” satoru mumbles in reply, nose brushing against your dripping thighs as his tongue slips past your folds and goes in deeper. he looks up and locks eyes with you, unable to resist smiling at the way your legs tremble around him. “aw, you’re so fuckin’ cute,” he murmurs, flicking his tongue in and out of your cunt with a grin. “and i’m the one who should be—fuck, you’re gorgeous—apologizing.”

this isn’t the first time satoru’s eaten you out, but it feels like it every single time—somehow, his tongue has a talent of rendering you unable to focus on anything else but him. you grind your hips against satoru’s face, eyes squinted shut as your boyfriend flattens his tongue before lapping your slick up with cloudy eyes. “shit, i don’t know what i’d be without you,” he murmurs, voice low and steady—and something about his tone makes you certain he’s being completely honest with you.

“you’re so—fuck, satoru, i’m gonna cum,” you breathe, back automatically arching when satoru’s tongue reaches that spot inside you. he laughs, and the vibration of the soft sound against your puffy, sensitive cunt almost makes your legs give out—but thankfully, satoru’s hands are secured around your thighs, holding you in place. “‘toru, i can’t—”

“yeah, y’can, just relax that pretty pussy for me,” he cooes, licking up the slick dripping down his chin. “c’mon, you’re doing so good f’me, keep going, baby.” and just like that, his tongue slips out of your cunt and he lets you cum—the sheer force of your orgasm hits you like a truck, and your hips roll against satoru’s face in a choppy rhythm as you desperately ride it out, hands gripping and accidentally yanking his hair.

you stutter out his name a couple more times, unable to focus on anything but the feeling of satoru’s mouth on your sensitive, gushing pussy. your boyfriend praises you the whole way, gently murmuring soft words about how sweet you are for letting him taste you, even while your relationship was rocky. when your voice steadies enough for satoru to make out what you’re begging him to do, he’s not at all surprised to hear you plea for him to fuck you—so stands up and tugs you down onto his bed, hand intertwined with yours as he pulls the sheets over your bodies. 

you squeeze satoru’s hand and lean in to kiss him, chest still heaving from your earlier orgasm. naturally, you miss his lips and end up kissing the side of his face, which is flushed bright red from the way his body reacts to the taste of your pussy. “don’t ever leave me like that again,” you whisper, tears pricking at your eyes for some reason—maybe it’s the lovesick way satoru looks at you, or maybe it’s the way he’s holding onto you like there’s no place he’d rather be.

“i won’t,” satoru promises, pressing an affectionate kiss to your forehead and pulling your head into his chest. his lips touch the top of your head as he murmurs, “and if i do, shoot me.” it sounds like a joke, but you both know that he’s dead serious.

“good thing i won’t have to do that,” you say with a soft giggle. your smile is heart-achingly familiar to satoru, and it feels like home—and that’s the realization that has him stripping off what little clothing the two of you still have on before he climbs on top of you. 

satoru touches the tip of his dick to your pussy, waiting for your nod to allow him to go in all the way. after a second, you dip your chin and trail your fingers down satoru’s jaw, grabbing his chin and pulling him down into another kiss. his lips linger for a couple seconds, still-minty breath tickling your face, before he pulls away. satoru slowly lowers his hips and nudges his dick inside of your desperate cunt, hands resting on either side of you.

even though it’s only been a little over a week since you last had sex with satoru, it feels like it’s been forever—your boyfriend curses when he feels how tight you are, mumbling something about missing you “so fucking much” as he goes in deeper and deeper. it hurts a little at first, but you quickly get used to the feeling of him inside of you. 

“fuckin’ hell, i’m never gonna get tired of this,” satoru breathes, dipping his head and kissing your collarbone. a single drop of sweat drips down the side of his face as he watches you squirm, eyes soft and endearing as you do so. he starts rolling his hips back and forth against you to loosen you up a little, dragging out soft moans from you as he does so. 

“yeah, you better not,” you mutter, tilting your head back and drawing in a long breath of air. you can’t remember the last time you felt this good—maybe it was the last time satoru fucked you. “satoru, y’re going so slow—”

your boyfriend cuts you off with a particularly harsh thrust, making your body jolt against his mattress. satoru lifts his head and looks you in the eye, a breathy laugh slipping out of him when he sees the pout on your lips. “the fuck you mean, i’m going slow? you want me to tear you apart? silly girl,” he tuts, back to his usual cocky self. he shakes his head and goes deep enough in you to force you to arch your back, starting to grin at the way you paw at his chest. “always so selfish, aren’t you?” he cooes, dipping his head and giving you a sloppy kiss on the forehead. “but you’re always—so—fuckin’—sweet,” satoru whispers, punctuating each word with a thrust hard enough for you to moan out his name more times than you can count.

“you’re the selfish one,” you mumble, lips trembling enough to muffle your voice. satoru huffs out a sigh and kisses your mouth, teeth gently brushing against your bottom lip. “you broke up with me for no reason,” you continue, tears pricking at your eyes again. “you think i’m gonna forgive you this fast?” 

satoru shakes his head again and caresses the side of your face. “will you?” he asks, slowing his pace enough for you to notice. you mutter something about him edging you on purpose, to which satoru shushes you and repeats his question.

“maybe.”

“you gotta stop giving me maybe’s, baby—y’re drivin’ me crazy here.”

in the past week, satoru’s done so much for you, and it hasn’t gone unnoticed. on the day after your breakup, he picked you up from your house and took you for a picnic entirely curated by him. on the second day, he made you breakfast, lunch and dinner—it wasn’t the best food you ever had, but it was definitely the most memorable (in more ways than one). on the third day, he took you out to your favorite amusement park and did everything he could to make you smile—by then, you had pretty much forgiven him, and the giant teddy bear he dropped in your bedroom only made you love him more. the rest of the days were filled with longing glances and little gifts left around your house, which only helped him earn more and more of you back.

so, you figure that satoru deserves what comes next.

“okay,” you whisper. 

satoru’s eyes widen and he hesitates before he tentatively asks, “does this mean—”

you don’t let him finish his question, instead grabbing his face and tugging him down into a full kiss. he lets out a soft hm? in surprise, but kisses you back more than gratefully. “c’mon, make me cum,” you breathe when he finally pulls away. satoru nods dazedly and mouths “i love you” before he goes back in you, pace faster than before.

one of his hands snakes down to your waist, holding it in pace while the other caresses your face. you gaze up at him with a soft smile, eyes fluttering open and closed every time his dick hits your sweet spot—which is more times than your body can handle, but you welcome the feeling of him deep inside of you. after barely a couple thrusts, a coil forms in your stomach, growing tighter and tighter with each movement of satoru’s hips. 

satoru laughs, chest heaving as he grins down at you cheekily. “i knew you’d forgive me,” he murmurs, pinching your cheek affectionately. “m’ so sorry—”

“shut up and fuck me,” you interrupt, tongue starting to loll out of your mouth as you feel yourself getting closer and closer to cumming all over satoru’s dick. 

“as you wish, princess.”

satoru’s breathing slowly changes, becoming more choppy and uneven the closer you watch him get to his high—it’s so, so close for both of you, and when it comes, it takes over both of your minds like a drug. satoru curses and groans out your name, thrusts growing sloppy as he desperately rides out his orgasm. cum shoots out from his dick and coats the inside of your cunt white, dripping out once you physically can’t take any more.

you run your hands all over satoru’s body, clawing and gripping at every inch of skin you can latch onto—satoru’s always been your anchor, and you hope that he always will be. one of his hands leaves the side of your face and tangles with your fingers, holding it down against the mattress as he promises to never screw you over like that again, and you’re only too welcoming to him and his words as you squirt all over his dick. “fuck, satoru—”

he lifts his eyes and meets your own, and unlike you, his vision is clearer than ever. “shoot me if i ever leave you again, baby. i’m serious.”

you raise a shaky hand and touch the side of his face, eyes fluttering shut as you murmur, “i know i won’t have to.”

[iscream-dot-com]

thank fucking god

ive been needing a new icon

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

pop that cherry

a/n: woop woop! here's the little slutty story that you guys voted for when i asked what you wanted to see happen next in this au ৎ୭

summary: “hey, I get it,” he flashed you a comforting smile, “I’m a complete stranger. You just shook my hand two seconds ago and now we’re expected to bang in front of a bunch of other people you also don’t know,” his broad thumb swept over your knuckles, “you just have to decide if you wanna pack up your things, go home and chalk this up to just a fun experience, a lesson learned about what corners your sexuality and such does and does not stretch to,” he uttered with sincerity, “or you can come back inside and we can make some magic happen. It’s up to you.” 

warnings: camgirl!reader x various, pornstar!ari levinson, roommate!bucky barnes, porn director!bruce banner, smut, porn au, college au, reader’s porn name is cherry blossom (UrLittleCherry), filming pornography, reader's first time doing professional porn, kissing, masturbation, toys, oral, fingering, voyeurism, exhibitionism, dirty talk, size kink (pornstar!ari is famous for his monster cock, you're welcome), belly bulge, manhandling, multiple orgasms, squirting, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, facial

word count: 3832

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

sugar & spice au masterlist | 101, intro to the au

masterlist | join my taglist 

Curled up and melted on your mattress, you absentmindedly scrolled through your phone. Your puffy pussy, hidden between your still trembling thighs, clenched in dull soreness from the fuck machine frozen by your feet and still glistening from the show you’d put on only moments earlier. 

“Hey, pretty girl,” a familiar voice emanated from your doorway, “I didn’t know you were done streaming.”

Lazily blinking up at Bucky as he leaned against the frame, “yeah, just signed off a few minutes ago,” you exhaled, “did you just get home?” the question flowed from your lips and he swiftly nodded in confirmation, “how was class?” 

“Oh my god, don’t get me started,” your roommate let out a groan and pushed himself off the wall, his stride swiftly carrying him the short distance to where you laid and plopped himself down beside you.

A soft smile tugged at the corners of your lips as you felt him press a slow peck to your exposed shoulder. 

“Do you need help lifting the toy back in the closet or–,” Bucky’s kind offer was then cut short by the shuttering gasp that suddenly crawled out of your lungs. 

“Oh my god,” your eyes grew to the size of saucers as you stared down at the message you’d opened on your phone, “oh my god!”

“What? What is it?” he propped himself up on a forearm to peek over your shoulder. 

“I–…” your eyes scanned the email wildly, “this can’t be real, right?” you cast a glance back at your friend. 

“Let me have a look,” and you swiftly handed him your phone before hearing him skim through it, “dear miss Cherry Blossom, bla, bla, bla… we here at Smash Studios really love your vibe and were wondering if you would ever consider doing professional pornography, because if so, then we would love to work with you,” his blue eyes flickered a moment longer over the screen before they fluttered up to meet yours, “no, I think it’s legit.”

“Holy shit…” you breathed, an airy giggle then bubbled out of you as this was quite the news to take in, even when one wasn’t still hazy from haven fucked one silly in front of hundreds of people. 

“You think you wanna do it?”

“Beautiful, gorgeous! And look right here, up there, yeah, that’s it…” 

Sharp clicks shuttered the camera and shot throughout the massive house as a photographer snapped the last of the stills for the shoot. You were posed perched and kneeling on a bed with your right hand buried in the already tiny crop top, you’d brought as one of the outfit options, and held up high to reveal your tits. 

The groan of floorboards creaking then found your ears and your gaze swiftly fluttered towards the door where the salt-and-pepper-haired man, who you’d come to learn was the head of the little porn studio, crossed over the threshold. 

“How are we doing in here?” Bruce adjusted his glasses before stepping further into the room. 

“I think we’re about done,” the photographer lowered the camera from his eye and cast a glance to his boss, “think we got the shot.”

“Great,” Bruce clapped his shoulder as the other man passed by and exited the room. As you tugged the short t-shirt back down into place, you met Bruce’s gaze before he asked you, “how are you doing? You ready?”

Though your mind was way too preoccupied to offer him an answer and instead blurted, “has he arrived?” as you scooted off the bed and felt the tiny shorts you wore ride up enough for your grasp to float down to adjust. 

“Not yet, I’m sorry,” he tilted his head, “trust me when I say that he isn’t usually this late. He wouldn’t have the stellar reputation he does if he was. But we can still begin without him and just fix it in post if you’re–”

Someone then poked their head and announced, “hey Banner? He’s here. I just spotted his bike roll up the driveway.”

Feeling your heart thump in your chest, you heard Bruce clap his palms together, “great!” before you followed him out of the bedroom and through the pristine halls of the rented modern mansion. 

Just before your bare feet began to conquer the long staircase, your absentminded grip tightened on the glass railing as you looked down at the open living room, clearly visible from the wide balcony, and spotted the figure that then sauntered in. 

“So sorry I’m late, traffic was literal hell.”

Ari Levinson. 

With sun-kissed brunette locks flowing from his head and a motorcycle helmet nuzzled under his burly arm, the infamous pornstar was not only blessed with a smile that could make anyone swoon, but also a dick so huge that any sane person would be downright terrified by the idea of having it split them apart. 

Though that wasn’t what had stopped you in your tracks, what had made your palms embarrassingly clammy when he soon shook one of them once you’d somehow made your way down the stairs. 

Why did your very first partner have to be someone you’d obsessively been getting off to for years? 

You were barely listening to what the people around you were saying as you couldn’t rip yourself out of the trance you’d snapped into. 

“I’m sorry, what?” you soon blinked, trying to avert your gaze. 

“I asked if you were ready,” Bruce patiently repeated. 

“…for?” you breathed, feeling as if you were inside of a giant ethereal cheese bell, making the entire world around you seem blurry. 

“For the shoot,” Bruce’s words still flew straight over your head, “I said that I was thinking that I’d do the filming myself, if that could make you more comfortable since you’ve already met me. That way it’ll just be me, the two of you and then Sam in the corner doing audio.”

“O-okay…” you said quietly, feeling your cheeks heat up as Ari let his gaze linger over you, an observant brow soon twitching as he spoke up. 

“Wait, actually,” he placed a palm on Bruce’s forearm, halting him as he reached for the bulky camera resting on the white couch, “do you mind if I grab a quick smoke break first?”

“Yeah, sure,” he nodded, “let’s just all take five before we begin.”

It caught you completely off guard when the object of your distraction walked by you and paused to murmur in your ear, “come with me outside for a second, will you?”

Shadowing him all the way out of the tall glass door and onto the terrace, you watched him lean his frame against the fence and tilt his body for you to slot in beside him. 

“I don’t actually smoke,” you uttered softly as you let your fingers ghost over the railing. 

“Oh, neither do I–, or well, that’s not completely true, I do, just didn’t need one right now.” 

“So then why did you ask for a smoke break?” you cocked a brow. 

Blowing out a swift breath, Ari then twisted to face you more and gazed directly down at you. 

“You mind if I hold your hand?” he held out his own palm.

“Oh, uhm,” your glance flickered down to his upturned hand before you carefully placed your own atop of it, “okay.”

His warm fingers swiftly engulfed your own as his stare stayed fast upon you.

“So, this is your first time, huh?”

“Oh, no, I'm not a virgin, I–” 

“I meant porn, sweetheart,” he tilted his head to be more at your level. 

“Right,” you averted your gaze as butterflies soared in your stomach, “yeah, I haven’t really done this before… I mean, I’ve some stuff, I’ve cammed for a pretty long time now and even recorded custom videos for some people, but no, I haven’t really taken this step before…” 

You were staring down at his large hand engulfing yours as he then said, “you know, it’s okay if you don’t wanna go through with it. This field isn’t for everyone, in fact, only very few thrive in this environment, and if it’s not for you, then it’s okay.”

“Oh, no,” your eyes flickered up to find his as you urged, “I wanna do this, I really do. I’m sorry, I guess I just kinda got a bit more nervous than I expected.” 

“Hey, I get it,” he flashed you a comforting smile, “I’m a complete stranger. You just shook my hand two seconds ago and now we’re expected to bang in front of a bunch of other people you also don’t know,” his broad thumb swept over your knuckles, “you just have to decide if you wanna pack up your things, go home and chalk this up to just a fun experience, a lesson learned about what corners your sexuality and such does and does not stretch to,” he uttered with sincerity, “or you can come back inside and we can make some magic happen. It’s up to you.” 

“So, Cherry,” Bruce purred behind the camera as he knelt on the floor beside where you sat at the foot of the bed, “I can’t believe we finally convinced you to come have some fun with us. I gotta tell you, you are just a fucking dream come true…”

“Oh, thank you,” you smiled, kicking your feet slightly as they dangled over the edge. 

“But you must get that all the time, I mean, look at you.”

“It has been known to happen on occasion,” you chuckled, thinking back to all of the lewd compliments the viewers of your streams generously tossed at you. 

“So, a little birdy told me that this is your very first time fucking on camera. Is that true?”

“Yeah, it is,” you bit down on your bottom lip, “I’m so ready to pop that cherry.”

“Oh, you are, are you?” he smirked, panning the bulky camera over your frame as you tilted your head in a nod, “you’re just ready to show the whole world what a perfect slut you are?”

“Think it’s about time,” you giggled in response. 

“Well, then why don’t you do something for me and stand up?” he shifted back a bit as you got up from the bed, “and now, I’ve already seen it, but can you please turn around and show everyone how fucking perfect your ass is?” a grin stayed fast on your face as you slowly spun around. Your butt was barely covered in the tiny shorts that clung around your hips, so when you twisted and let the camera catch that part of you, Bruce quietly groaned, “wow…” and he shifted his grip to let one of his hands float up towards you, “can I touch you?” 

“Sure,” you arched your back a bit to make his palm’s journey that much shorter. 

“Damn… this has got to be one of the greatest booties I’ve ever seen in my entire life,” he offered your softness a brief squeeze. His fingers first dented one cheek, then the next, before his grip caught your waistband and tugged your shorts up just a tad bit more, making the fabric momentarily rub against your covered pussy.

His flat palm then scooped around your hips and guided you back to face the camera.

“Do you wanna see my boobs?” you smiled as you blinked down at him with big doe eyes, your hands gently grazing over the hem of your crop top.

“Oh, yes, please,” he virtually begged as he let his warm palm stay glued to your waist. 

Peeking down, you slowly lifted the shirt up and let your tits quite literally spill out as they jiggled slightly from the release of how fiercely you let the cotton graze over your skin. 

“Jesus christ…” you heard him utter as your palms fluttered down to play with them, squeezing the soft peaks gently before Bruce’s fingers sneaked up to pinch one of your nipples.

Once you’d put on a show and pushed the tiny shorts down your legs, the crotch of which had been slightly soaked since you weren’t wearing any panties underneath, you rested back down on the bed and spread your legs wide for the camera, grinning as the older man asked you to play with yourself. 

“Oh my god… I gotta tell you, I am so hard right now,” you watched how intently he stared at the small monitor, getting a closeup of how your fingers rubbed your little clit, “you have no idea how tough it is not to just fuck you right now, it’s crazy…”

“Oh yeah?” you giggled, the melody of your want echoing throughout the room at every teasing touch you offered yourself, “how bad do you wanna fuck me?”

“So fucking bad…” he uttered in a nearly hypnotise tone. 

Continuing to circle your puffy pearl, your fingers briefly dipped down to tease your entrance, only shyly slipping inside before you swept back up. 

“You know what?” Bruce said as he then began to twist a bit to get the open door to the room into frame, “I have a little surprise for you,” and perfectly on queue, Ari appeared at the threshold, burly chest on show with just a pair of jeans hanging low on his hips. 

His stride was slow as he only stayed in the doorway a moment before sauntering over to where you sat, melted back and resting against the one forearm that propped you up. 

“Hey,” he smiled and plucked up your face as soon as it was within reach. 

“Hi,” you managed to utter just before he bent down and pressed his lips to yours in an unhurried and gentle kiss. 

He kissed you as if he had all the time in the world, like some dude wasn’t pressing a bulky camera closer to the intimate act, but like he was the lead in a PG romcom. 

When Ari withdrew, he let himself linger in your warmth, ever so slightly nuzzling his nose against your own as your fingers kept up the dizzying pattern you drew between your parted thighs. Tilting his head, his touch traced the length of your arm till his reach came down to aid your efforts, making you gasp from the way he caressed you. 

“You,” he nudged his nose gently against your own, “look like you’re in need of some cock in that little mouth of yours.”

Letting out a soft chuckle, you said, “you read my mind,” before popping the button of his jeans and tugging the zipper down. Even though you’d seen his famed cock numerous times on screen before, it truly was something else to witness it in person. A breathy, “holy shit,” left your lips as you tried to wrap your fingers around his girth, though he only let out a soft laugh at the way your eyes grew wide. 

Ceasing the caress he drew between your thighs, he instead grabbed the base of his heavy length with his fingers still glossy from your arousal. As you stuck out your flat tongue, he tapped the weight against you for a second before you tilted your chin and wrapped your lips around the bulbous head.  

As you disappeared into the meditative motion of slobbering all over his cock, gradually taking more and more of his intimidating length, your frame twisted to lay on your side and face him more. 

Blinking up into his hooded eyes as the corners of your lips burned from the severe stretch, you felt his hips begin to move, rolling to meet your every bob, till his fingers tangled in your hair and he got to take over completely, fucking your face till slobber dribbled down your chest and rained down on your crop top, still tugged up and framing your tits. 

His free hand then snaked its way back down your body and cracked your legs open wide for the camera to see as he plugged your pussy up with two of his fingers, making you moan around his girth as the tip of him bruised your throat. 

When he yanked your mouth off of his cock, he did so with a gravelly growl, like he could have lived in your silky warmth and it pained him to say goodbye so soon. 

“Come here,” he grabbed you and flipped you around for your frame to face him as his feet stayed planted on the side of the bed. Kicking his jeans the rest of the way off, you panted up at him as you scooted even closer, nearly letting your butt hang off the mattress’ edge as you laid already crumbled and folded before him, utterly bewitched by the anticipation of what his legendary size must feel like stretching your poor pussy out. 

Shimmery spiderwebs of your nectar clung to him as he then let you feel the weight of him tap against your puffy pearl, briefly skimming through your folds before he found your eyes and tipped down, nudging to catch your weeping entrance. 

“Oh my g-god…” you gasped, all of the air escaping your body to accommodate as he slowly pressed just the tip inside. Your cunt clung around his dick as he gave you a second to catch your breath. Your pulse throbbed in your pussy as your silky walls moulded around him and your thighs gently trembled from the intensity of it all. 

“Fuck,” he groaned as he gave you another inch, “you feel so good,” gently stuffing more of his length inside. 

His grip dented your trembling thighs as he held you open for the camera to see how you struggled to take his cock. Even when the tip of him kissed your cervix and made you feel as if he was all the way up in your fucking throat, when you hazily gazed down to see where he split you apart, there was still a generous inch of him that your little pussy just couldn’t take. 

As your eyes lingered a little longer, you too caught sight of how a dull bulge formed in the lower part of your belly, perfectly timed with each of his mind-numbing thrusts. 

When you then tumbled over the edge, nearly blind from the overwhelming pleasure, your pussy couldn’t help but accidentally gush around Ari’s girth, simply because of how mind-boggling he felt. 

“Oh, shit,” you panted. Still in your orgasmic daze, you swiftly cast a worried glance up at Bruce steady behind the camera, “I’m sorry,” you briefly broke the scene as Ari too paused his movements as you breathlessly spoke, “I really tried not to squirt, I know that wasn’t part of today’s plan, but–, fuck…” your eyes fluttered up to find Ari’s, “your dick’s just so goddamn big,” you hazily giggled. 

“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” Bruce’s voice washed over you as you watched a smile tug at Ari’s lips, “that was just an unplanned bonus.”

“Wait, so you’re not mad?” your neck twisted to cast a glance at the director. 

“No,” he swiftly shook his head and flashed you a reassuring smile to calm the obvious anxiety that had bubbled up inside of you. 

“Oh, good,” you let out a sigh, “sorry, I just got nervous for a second. Okay, alright, we can keep going.”

“You good?” Ari checked before he cracked out of his frozen form. 

“Yep, yep, I’m okay, I’m wonderful,” you chuckled and let the last bit of nerves wash away. 

“Alright,” he dipped down to press a soft kiss to your lips, before his hands guided your arms around his neck, slinking them around him. 

His grasp then scooped down under you and he effortlessly plucked you up off the bed, a shy yelp bubbling up from your lungs as he picked your frame up to cradle you in his arms, his massive cock still lodged inside of you, though when he settled you in his strong hold, it felt as if he found a mystical way to slide even deeper. 

Moans flowed from your lips and vibrated against his skin as your neck soon gave up and lent your cheek to smoosh against his fuzzy chest. 

“There you go,” he stood up tall and bounced you in his arms like you were a toy, just a cocksleeve for him to get off with, “there you fucking go…”

As he picked up the pace and truly gave you a taste of how a real pornstar pounded a pussy for the camera, your eyes screwed shut tight and you felt yourself float away on a cloud, curled up in Ari’s burly arms and surrounded in a storm of your collective moans. The existence of the video camera even faded from your reality as you peeled your eyes open and peeked up at Ari from the pillow of his pec, knowing full well that he too could feel how you began to clench around his cock once more. 

“You gonna cum again?” he repeatedly lifted you up and down on his fat girth, “you gonna be a good girl and cream all over my cock, huh?”

Blinking up at him, your brows crinkled in pleasure as you nodded, “uh-huh.”

“You think you can squirt again for me?” his grip dug into the plush of your ass hard enough for it to leave marks. 

“I-I don’t know–”

“Oh, I think you can,” he switched up his pattern, slowing down slightly and dragging you all the way up till his cock nearly slipped out of you, only to sink you back down in such a rough, yet intensely slow manner, that it made your eyes roll in your skull, “just listen to that,” he smirked at the soft sloshing sound that sinfully echoed as his fat girth repeatedly slid against your g-spot, virtually bullying it till you surrendered, “it’s like she’s begging me to just spend the rest of the day making her gush over and over again until you fucking pass out…”

A shrill cry escaped your form as you let go once more, shaking in Ari’s grasp as Bruce knelt down to capture your sinful drizzle.  

You nearly felt drunk, like you were hours into the best party of your life, when you eventually found yourself planted on the floor, quaking legs unsteady beneath you as you blinked up at Ari, looming above you and furiously fucking his fist. 

“You want me to cum all over that pretty little face?” he grunted as you hazily stuck out your tongue. 

“Yes,” the corners of your lips blissfully curled up into a grin, “please–”

Even though your bones had turned into jelly and your pussy clenched in soreness, the drawn-out moan that rumbled in Ari’s chest as hot ropes of his cum then shot out and painted your features sent tingles throughout your body and filled you with a desire to just wrestle him back down onto the mattress, hit rewind and do it all over again. 

© 2024 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[the-sand-guardian]

last night i dreamt that elon musk was getting bullied so hard on Twitter (due to the connoreatspants stream) that he took down the entire website and sold it to john green for $80. Because he deleted the entire thing and destroyed everything, when you went to the website it just had a banner of John saying "Sorry about him, twitter will be back soon" and promoting his new book

[daisynik7]

Pairing: Takuma Ino x f!reader

Rating: Explicit – MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Word Count: ~1.7k

cw: explicit language, mentions of a popular horror movie, smut – PIV sex (cowgirl position), nipple play, blow job, mask kink, slight degradation (slut, whore), use of pet names (cutie, sweetie, baby) 

Summary: You and your new boyfriend Ino decide to watch a horror movie together in honor of spooky season. Halfway through, he notices how skittish you are, making him want to play a silly prank on you with his signature ski mask. It’s all fun and games until he realizes that you actually like seeing him in this way more than he anticipated. 

Author’s Note: Happy October y'all! What can I say, I am VERY into Takuma Ino right now and I just had to get this out of my system. This is barely edited or proofread, sorry for any grammar mistakes or typos, I really was just letting my fingers fly through this in a moment of passion LOL. Likes, reblogs, and/or comments are always appreciated, thank you for reading! MDNI banner by @/cafekitsune. 

You turn off all the lights, the only source of illumination coming from the TV screen, paused at the very start of the movie you decided to watch tonight. With a big bowl of freshly popped kernels in your grasp, you huddle beside your boyfriend, Ino, on the couch, covering both your legs with a fleece blanket. He wraps his arm around you, pulling you in closer, reaching to grab a handful of popcorn to stuff inside his mouth. “Ready?” he muffles, pointing the remote to the screen, finger pressed to the center button. 

Nuzzling your head against him, you answer. “Yup!”

It’s apparently one of those cult classic horror flicks according to Ino, who recommended it when you mentioned how you wanted to watch something scary for October. He’s seen it before, many times in fact, but he insists that you watch it. He has no clue how frightened you get over the silliest things, so tonight will be a treat for the both of you. 

The opening scene plays out: a beautiful blonde picks up the phone and the conversation ends quickly short because it’s the wrong number. Normal so far, good. It rings again, but now the caller seems interested in talking. Do you like scary movies? Do you have a boyfriend? The man’s voice gives you the creeps, and you find yourself shuddering from it, cuddling closer to Ino, who glances at you with a smirk on his face. 

You never told me your name.

Why do you want to know my name?

Because I want to know who I’m looking at.

This line gives you goosebumps and you lift the blankets up to hide behind it. “Ew, creepy!” Ino only laughs, throwing a few more pieces of popcorn into his mouth. 

It escalates from here, getting increasingly chaotic and violent. By the time you’re halfway into the film, the bowl is down to its last kernels and you’re crouched in Ino’s lap, peeking through your fingers. He pauses the movie after one particularly brutal kill. “Snack break! I’m going to make some more popcorn and go pee.”

“You’re leaving?!” you whine, clinging on to him as he tries to get up.

He chuckles. “Babe! It’s just a movie. I’ll be right back, okay?” He kisses you on the forehead, heading into the kitchen, leaving you alone in the living room. 

Of course it’s just a movie, but you can’t help feeling creeped out in the dark like this. You reach for one of the nightstands, turning on the lamp. You hear the drone of the microwave, and after a minute or so, the distinct sound of popping. Eventually, it comes to a stop, and the entire house is eerily quiet. You’re tempted to call out for Ino, wondering where he is, but you remember that he had to use the bathroom. 

Suddenly, a shadowy figure appears right behind on you on the couch, grabbing your shoulders and shouting gibberish at you. You scream bloody murder, ready to punch him and run away when Ino lifts his ski mask up to reveal himself, tears streaming down his face, cracking up at you. 

“Ino!” you yell at him, slapping his hands away from you. “You fucking asshole!”

He doubles over, cackling, wiping his eyes. It takes a good while for him to regain his composure as you glare at him, arms crossed over your chest. “I’m sorry, baby. I just couldn’t resist.” He sits beside you, stretching his arms out for a hug. “You have to admit, that was fucking hilarious.”

You shake your head, refusing. “You’re such a dick.”

“Oh, come on! It was just a little prank. Now you’ll be way more prepared for the rest of the movie!” He pulls the mask over his face again, everything covered except the holes for his eyes. “See? Not so scary anymore, right?”

You inspect him carefully, still pouting, not saying a word.

“I’m sorry, sweetie. Truly. I promise not to scare you again.” He scoots towards you, nudging you in the arm. 

You roll your eyes at him, relaxing. “Fine.”

“Can I get a kiss now?” 

He tries to lift his mask up, but you stop him, pulling it back down. “I don’t want to see your face right now. I’m still annoyed, you know.”

“Aw man! Really?”

You hoist it just past his nose, leaning in to give him a soft kiss on the lips. When you break apart, he smirks at you. “You like this, don’t you? Seeing me with my mask on.”

You shrug, a sly grin on your face, neither confirming nor denying his accusation. Sure, you were a bit upset at first, when he scared the shit out of you. But seeing his face covered like that may have sparked a desire in you that you never knew you had, until now. 

“Oh my god! You do, you do!” he exclaims, shaking your arm. “My cutie has a mask kink!”

“Shut up, asshole!” you yell at him, pretending to shove him off, smiling. 

“You’re a fucking freak!” he giggles, pouncing on you. He starts tickling you along your ribcage, causing you to squirm beneath him as he straddles you, trapping you between his legs. His fingers flutter under your arms, stroking your sensitive skin.

“Ino!” you cry out, laughing from the sensation. 

You can feel his cock growing hard in his pants, balls heavy on your stomach. Suddenly, he stops, mask still folded to expose his lips, leaning down to kiss you sloppily. He pins your hands above your head, locking his fingers with yours. He slips inside your mouth, grazing your tongue with his, hungry for your saliva. “Fuck,” he moans into you, nipping at your bottom lip. “You like this freaky shit, don’t you? Nasty slut.” His playful tone is laden with lust now, low and sultry, mouth brushing along your neck, sucking at your pulse points to mark you. 

You whine his name, wrapping your legs around his waist, grinding yourself against him. 

“Look at you, getting so fucking dumb all because of my mask,” he purrs. “What else turns you on, cutie? Tell me.”

Without thinking, you blurt out, “Spit. Your spit. I want it.”

“Oh shit,” he swears, licking his mouth. He traces the outline of your lips, beckoning you to open up, dribbling a thick wad of saliva inside you. You gulp it down, sticking your tongue out for more. 

“Oh fuck, you’re nasty,” he says, doing it again. “Makes me so fucking horny seeing you like this. Seeing my cutie act like a fucking whore.” He slips beneath your shirt, fondling your bare breasts, flicking your peaked nipples with his thumbs. 

“Fuck, Ino,” you whisper, pussy throbbing in your panties, arousal leaking through the fabric. 

“You like it when I play with your tits, huh?” Like it when I pinch them hard like this.” He squeezes them between his thumb and index finger, enough pressure to stimulate you, making you moan his name again and again.

He swears under his breath, shoving his pants down his legs, shimmying out of them until he’s only in his underwear now, erection stiff in his boxers. “You gonna suck my cock now or what, slut?” 

You nod, kneeling in front of him, knees on the carpet, spreading his thighs apart. He lifts his ass off the couch to slide out of his boxers, letting them fall around his ankles. You kiss the tip of his dick, smearing his precum around your lips like gloss before swallowing him into your mouth. 

He lets out a drawn out, “Fuck,” watching you with wide eyes as you bob up and down his shaft. Voice shaky, he asks, “Can I put my hands on you?”

Something about him in this ski mask makes you want to be submissive, makes you want to be used. You grab both his hands, guiding them towards the sides of your head, giving him free rein to manhandle you.

“Holy shit,” he murmurs, gripping you tighter, gradually thrusting his hips in tandem with you. His cockhead hits the back of your throat, teasing your gag reflex, but you resist, tears collecting in the corners of your eyes, enduring it. 

Noticing you, he pulls out, a string of spit between you. “Baby, baby. Please don’t force yourself. I don’t want to hurt you.” He reaches to his side, grabbing a tissue from the table beside the couch, wiping away the spit around your mouth and the tears in your eyes. “Come here, cutie. I want to make you feel good too.”

You strip out of your bottoms, straddling his lap, pussy wet and aching against him. He moans as you rock back and forth on his shaft, pressing his thumb to your clit, massaging it. “There we go. Now we both can feel good, yeah?”

After a few more strokes, you beg him to fuck you, lifting up to guide his cock inside you slowly, sinking down on him until he bottoms out. You bounce on him, his hands gripped to your waist, guiding you, moaning your name between expletives. 

As you approach your orgasm, you pull up his mask, placing it on his head as he usually wears it. He smiles brightly at you, nuzzling his nose to yours. “There’s my pretty girl. Can you come for me now? Come all over this cock?”

You kiss him passionately, arms wrapped around his neck as he thrusts into you, hands squeezed on your ass now. You reach your climax, moaning into his mouth. He comes with you, shooting his load deep into your womb, filling you up with his cream pie. The two of you continue to kiss slowly, catching your breaths. He caresses your back while you melt into his embrace. 

“We need to establish a safe word,” he suggests, cradling you in his arms. “I want to make sure I’m not hurting you.”

You hum into his skin, saying the first thing that comes to mind. “Popcorn."

He chuckles, stroking the back of your neck gently. “Alright. Popcorn it is.” A beat later, he exclaims, “Popcorn! I totally forgot about the popcorn!”

You laugh, giving your boyfriend a wet smooch on the cheek.

[sophsbookstore]

New Beginnings

Quinn Hughes x reader ｡･:*˚:✧｡

Word Count: 3225

A/N: HE'S HERE!! Shout out to the anon who gave the name idea, and thank you to everyone who sent ideas (I wrote them down for future use, don't worry!)

also I wanted to get this out fast so apologies for no banner, but enjoy this gif!

Masterlist can be found here!

The soft, rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor was the only sound breaking the quiet stillness of the hospital room. The small room, once sterile and impersonal, had transformed into something so much warmer in the hours since your son had arrived. The windows let in a gentle stream of moonlight, casting a calming glow over the room. The air smelled faintly of lavender from the small bottle of essential oil you’d brought from home, a small comfort in this strange, sterile place. The bed, with its crisp white linens and worn quilted blanket, was a far cry from the chaos of labor, but now it was filled with love.

Quinn sat beside you, his large frame almost swallowing the space beside you as he held your newborn son in his arms. His baby boy. His son. The words still felt surreal, even hours after the birth. The emotions that coursed through you—the love, the overwhelming sense of joy, the tender affection for the little being Quinn was gently cradling in his arms—were beyond words.

Quinn looked down at his son with such tenderness, his eyes full of awe as he gazed at the tiny life in his arms. His son, with a head of soft, dark hair and tiny hands that seemed too small to belong to such a big world. Quinn couldn’t stop smiling, and neither could you, though you couldn’t help but feel your heart swell in your chest as you watched him.

"He's perfect," Quinn whispered, his voice barely more than a soft breath. His fingers gently stroked the baby’s cheek, a movement so tender it almost felt like he was afraid to touch him too much, as if he were afraid of breaking something so precious.

You could only nod, your eyes brimming with tears as you took in the sight of your family—your little family—finally together. You hadn’t expected it to feel like this. You thought you understood love, you thought you understood what it meant to have someone in your life who mattered more than anything else. But this? This was something else entirely. Your son was here, and with him, a whole new world had opened up.

“I can’t believe he’s finally here,” you whispered, your voice raw with emotion. The pain of labor still a distant memory now that your son was in your arms, but the rush of feelings that came with becoming a mother, of seeing Quinn as a father, was all-consuming.

Quinn’s eyes flickered toward you, his gaze soft and full of admiration. He shifted, making sure your son was safe in his arms as he leaned closer to you. “He’s so small. I can’t believe we made him.”

You smiled, your hand reaching out to rest on his arm, the touch gentle and comforting. “He’s perfect, Quinn. Just like you.”

He chuckled softly, though there was no real humor in the sound. Instead, there was awe. “You really think so?”

You nodded, the smile not leaving your face. “I do. He looks just like you, you know.”

Quinn let out a soft laugh, and you could feel the tension in his shoulders relax even more as the moment between the three of you felt almost too perfect to be real. “I don’t know about that. He’s so small, I don’t know if he even has a chance of looking like me. But I hope he gets your smile.” He paused, his eyes falling to the baby in his arms. “I hope he gets your kindness too.”

Your heart fluttered at his words, and you turned your head to look at Quinn. “You’re going to be such an amazing dad.”

He met your gaze, his eyes soft and full of warmth. “We’re in this together, right? I know I’m gonna screw up sometimes, but I’ll do everything I can to make sure he has the best life possible. Just like you’re gonna be the best mom.” He paused, looking back at the little bundle in his arms, his voice barely above a whisper. “He’s lucky to have you.”

The lump in your throat returned, but you swallowed it down, wanting to savor this moment. “He’s lucky to have both of us.” You looked back at your son, his tiny face scrunched up as he slept peacefully in Quinn’s arms. “I can’t believe he’s ours.”

Quinn’s eyes softened, and for a moment, the world outside the hospital room seemed to disappear. It was just the three of you, tucked away in this quiet, safe place. The bond between the two of you had always been strong, but now it felt like it had deepened in a way neither of you had expected. Your love for each other, for this little life you’d created, was unlike anything you’d ever known.

“I’m just so happy he’s here,” Quinn whispered, his voice full of sincerity. “So happy we’re finally parents. I don’t think I’ve ever been this happy in my whole life.”

And in that moment, as you all huddled together in the soft glow of the hospital room, surrounded by the love you’d created, you knew that this was just the beginning. The beginning of a whole new chapter in your life—one that would be filled with challenges, but also so much joy. Because, as Quinn had said, this little one was yours. Your family. And nothing would ever be the same again.

The peaceful calm of the hospital room was disrupted by the sudden buzz of Quinn's phone vibrating on the bedside table. He glanced down at the screen, a small frown of concentration crossing his face as he saw the name flashing across it.

"It's Jack," Quinn murmured, his thumb swiping the screen to answer the text.

You watched as Quinn quickly read the message, his eyes scanning the words before a wide grin slowly spread across his face. His gaze flicked up to meet yours, and you saw the excitement in his eyes. "Jack says everyone’s on their way. My parents, your parents, and Luke. They’re all coming to meet him."

You smiled softly, your heart fluttering in your chest. “That’s so sweet. I’m so glad they can be here.”

Quinn nodded, still smiling as he typed back a quick response, then placed his phone back down. He turned to look at you, his hand resting on your knee. “I’ll let them in when they get here, but we need to put him down for a second, okay? You need to rest for a bit.”

You nodded, though you didn’t want to let go of your baby, even for a moment. But you understood. Quinn had been so gentle, so attentive with him since he was born, and you knew he’d want to be the one to greet everyone and show them the little one.

Carefully, Quinn shifted the baby from his arms, cradling him gently as he placed him in the small bassinet beside your bed. You couldn’t help but feel a pang of sadness at the momentary separation, but it was fleeting. You could already feel the warmth of your little family growing stronger with every passing second.

Quinn leaned down and kissed your forehead, squeezing your hand. “I’ll be right back, I just want to make sure everyone’s settled and they don’t overwhelm you.” He gave you one last reassuring smile before walking to the door, opening it just as your parents and his came into the room.

The air in the room shifted as soon as the door opened, the sound of footsteps and the low hum of excited conversation filling the small space. You watched as Quinn's parents, your parents, Jack, and Luke all filed into the room all carrying various blue balloons and baby toys, their faces lighting up as they caught sight of the two of you. It was like a wave of warmth washing over you—this was your family, all here to celebrate the new life you had just welcomed into the world.

Quinn’s mom was the first to reach the bed, her arms open wide as she enveloped you in a tight hug. "Oh, sweetie," she whispered, pulling back to look at you with bright eyes, “I’m so proud of you. He’s beautiful.”

You smiled warmly, hugging her back as she ran a hand over your hair. "Thank you," you replied softly, “we’re so happy he’s finally here.”

Quinn’s dad, standing behind her, stepped forward next, a proud smile plastered across his face as he leaned down to give you a hug. “You both did great. He’s lucky to have parents like you.”

Your own parents were close behind, both of them visibly overwhelmed with emotion as they approached. Your mom was already tearing up as she gave you a gentle hug, holding you a little longer than usual. “He’s so perfect. I can’t believe I’m a grandmother now.”

You giggled softly, feeling a surge of happiness in your chest. “I know, it’s so surreal, but in the best way.”

Your dad, who had been standing back a bit, gave Quinn a hearty slap on the back before coming over to give you a warm hug. “You’re gonna be amazing parents, both of you. We’re so proud.”

Quinn gave his parents a brief hug as well, before turning to Jack and Luke. Jack, who had been practically jumping up and down, immediately pulled Quinn into a bear hug. “Congrats, man,” he said excitedly, clapping his brother’s back. “You’re a dad. Holy crap, I can’t believe it.”

Luke, standing behind Jack, offered a knowing smile and gave you a nod of approval. "Congrats," he added, his voice low but warm.

Jack, after finally letting go of Quinn, immediately moved toward the bassinet where their son lay, his eyes locked on the tiny figure. “Let me see him!” he said, his excitement clear in his voice. The rest of the group followed suit, gathering around the bed, their eyes on the little boy.

“Everyone, this is our son,” you said softly, your voice full of love as you gestured to the baby in the bassinet. “This is Casey Jack Hughes.”

There was a brief pause as everyone took in the name, the soft sounds of admiration filling the room. Then, Jack’s face lit up in pure delight, his eyes wide with happiness as he leaned closer to the baby. “Casey Jack?” He practically shouted. “Oh my God, that’s awesome!”

You couldn’t help but laugh at Jack’s excitement. Quinn, standing beside you, wrapped an arm around your shoulders, his eyes warm as he shared a quiet smile with you. You both had kept the name a secret for so long, but now, hearing Jack’s reaction, you couldn’t be more happy with your choice.

“You like it?” you asked, your voice full of affection.

“Like it?” Jack repeated, beaming. “I love it! I’m so honored. Casey Jack—CJ. That’s what I’m gonna call him. CJ, what do you think of that, buddy?” Jack looked down at the baby with a huge grin, his voice turning soft as he spoke to the tiny life in front of him. “Yeah, CJ’s got a nice ring to it.”

You laughed, the warmth in the room filling your heart. “You’re gonna spoil him, aren’t you?”

Jack winked at you, his excitement palpable. “I’m gonna be the best uncle ever. You’re both lucky to have me around.” He looked down at CJ again, his fingers gently brushing the baby’s tiny hand. “What do you think, little guy? You gonna remember me as the coolest uncle when you grow up?”

Quinn, his own heart swelling with joy, leaned down to press a kiss to your forehead before giving his brother a side-eye. “Easy there, Jack. We’re gonna have to make sure he gets some sleep, too, you know?”

Jack just grinned, completely undeterred. “I’ll be gentle, promise. But CJ’s gonna know who his favorite uncle is, right?”

“Definitely,” Quinn said, rolling his eyes fondly. “But let’s give him a minute. He’s still brand new.”

Your parents smiled, their eyes filled with warmth as they took a step back to let Jack have his moment. “You’ve got a great name, little Casey,” your dad added softly, his voice full of pride. “We can’t wait to watch you grow.”

It was overwhelming, in the best way possible—the amount of love that surrounded you and your new family. The world outside felt distant now, as if everything had fallen into place in this tiny hospital room. There would be challenges ahead, but in this moment, you felt at peace. You were surrounded by family, you had the love of Quinn, and your son, Casey, was already so deeply cherished by everyone.

Quinn squeezed your hand, leaning in to kiss your cheek. “This is just the beginning,” he whispered. “Our family, it’s perfect.”

—

The morning light filtered through the windows of your home, casting a soft glow over the living room as Quinn carefully stepped inside, carrying the baby carrier in one hand. Your heart swelled as you watched him—your strong, gentle Quinn—carrying your son into the house for the first time. It felt so surreal, but in the best possible way.

After a long night in the hospital, full of excitement and happy tears, you’d finally arrived home. Your legs were still a little unsteady, but the warmth and comfort of being in your own space made everything feel a little easier. There was something so peaceful about being home with your family—your new family—and you couldn’t wait to settle into this new chapter of your life.

Quinn glanced over at you, his eyes soft as he set the carrier down on the couch. “Alright, babe. Get some rest. I’ll take care of everything with Casey while you recharge.”

You smiled tiredly, nodding. “I’m not that tired, I promise. I just need a minute.”

“Hey, I know how you’re feeling,” he said, his voice gentle as he placed a hand on your shoulder. “You’ve been through a lot. I’ll handle this part, you take the time you need.”

Your eyes softened as you looked up at him. You could see the quiet pride in his face as he looked at your son in the carrier, his hands hovering over the little one as if he couldn’t quite believe this was real. It was still amazing to see Quinn, the man you’d loved for so long, now in this role—the role of a father. It felt like everything had fallen into place.

You nodded, though you didn’t immediately walk away. Instead, you stayed where you were, leaning against the kitchen counter, watching as Quinn carefully lifted the baby carrier, cradling it with one arm while the other held onto the handle. His movements were slow and deliberate, careful not to disturb the baby.

The way he looked at Casey, so full of awe and tenderness, made your heart ache with love. It was as if, in those moments, the rest of the world didn’t matter. There was only Quinn, only your little boy, and only the home you’d created together.

He turned toward the hallway and glanced over his shoulder, catching your eyes. “Come on,” he said softly. “I’m going to show Casey his new room.”

With a small sigh, you pushed off the counter and walked toward him. The sight of Quinn gently carrying the carrier through your house, as if he was guiding his son into the world, was one of the most beautiful things you’d ever seen. And as much as you wanted to rest, you couldn’t help but want to be there, to be a part of this moment.

You followed him quietly down the hallway, your steps light as you took in the sight of your home. The walls you had carefully chosen, the pictures you’d hung together, the quiet space you’d made for this family of three. It all felt so much more real now.

Quinn reached the nursery door and stopped just outside, holding the baby carrier steady. He turned to you with a soft smile, his eyes gleaming with pride. “This is it. His room.”

You peered inside, your eyes scanning the soft blue walls, the crib tucked in the corner, and the shelves lined with tiny stuffed animals. Everything about the room felt peaceful and full of love, just like the rest of the house. It had been a labor of love, carefully decorated with the anticipation of this very moment.

“He’s going to love it here,” you said, your voice a little thick with emotion. It felt like this room was made just for him, and somehow, seeing it all come together made the reality of being parents feel even more overwhelming.

“I think so, too,” Quinn murmured, gently setting the carrier down on the changing table. “I can’t wait to watch him grow up here. I can’t wait to see all the milestones—his first steps, his first words…everything.” He turned back toward you, a little sheepish. “I know it’s going to be a lot of work, but I’m ready for it. I want to be there for every little thing.”

You walked into the room, standing next to him as you both looked down at the carrier, the tiny figure of your son peacefully asleep inside. The sight of him, so small and perfect in his new world, made your heart swell with pride.

“We’re going to be great parents,” you said softly, your hand brushing against his arm. “We’re doing this together.”

Quinn smiled, his expression softening. “I’m so glad you’re with me through all of this. We’ve got this, right?”

“Absolutely,” you whispered, leaning in to kiss his cheek. “Together. Always.”

Carefully, Quinn unbuckled the straps of the baby carrier, lifting Casey gently into his arms. The baby stirred slightly but didn’t wake, his small body relaxing against Quinn’s chest. You couldn’t help but admire how natural it all looked, how Quinn seemed so comfortable in this new role, how Casey fit perfectly in his arms as though he had always belonged there.

You stepped forward, guiding Quinn toward the crib. As he gently lowered Casey into the soft blankets, you watched in awe, your heart overflowing. Quinn stood there for a moment, just gazing down at their son, his expression full of love and admiration.

“He’s perfect,” Quinn murmured quietly, almost to himself, as he stood beside the crib, his hand resting on the edge.

You smiled, your hand finding Quinn’s as you joined him by the crib. “He really is.”

The two of you stood there in silence for a long moment, just looking at your son, feeling the weight of this beautiful new chapter in your lives. Everything had changed in an instant—your world now revolved around Casey, and in so many ways, it felt like you were living in a dream.

But as you stood there, hand in hand, watching your little boy peacefully sleep in his new room, you knew one thing for sure: This was only the beginning.

And with Quinn by your side, there was nothing you couldn’t face.

[im-adrienne]

New Look, Same Nerdy Masc

Planning a major overhaul of my twitch overlay, youtube, socials, etc. Something that reflects my age (I'm not young. I'm 90s retro) and what game(s) I'm playing at a given time (cozy, dark, sim, etc.).

[brunchable]

This is Your Boyfriend Mom? [3]

Pairings: Beefy Bucky Barnes x Our savage wittle boi Lucas x f!Reader.

Summary: It's Lucas' 7th Birthday and Bucky finally meets the Dad from Finance. Bucky also FINALLY got a haircut lmfao.

A/N: I will just keep posting Step-Dad Bucky content, this doesn't really have set plot, just cute and funny moments while Bucky navigates how to be a Dad.

The Night Before the Party

You were busy setting up the last of the birthday decorations when you heard the front door open. You didn’t think much of it at first, but then Lucas came sprinting into the living room, eyes wide, looking like he’d just seen a ghost.

“Mom!” he shouted, excitement and shock mixed in his voice. “Bucky’s back, and... uh, something’s wrong with him!”

You raised an eyebrow, turning toward the door just as Bucky strolled in, a smirk playing on his lips. You froze, your hands still holding the banner you were about to hang up.

Bucky had chopped his hair. Gone were the long, unruly locks he’d been hiding behind for months, replaced by a clean, short trim that made him look—well, if you were being honest—like he’d just walked off the set of a cologne commercial. Looking absolutely handsome.

“Wow, look at you. All... polished.” You blinked, trying to suppress a grin.

Before Bucky could respond, Lucas crossed his arms, pacing around him like a tiny detective on the case. “So, Mr. Metal Mop finally decided to join the human race, huh?”

“Really, Lucas?” Bucky sighed.

“Oh yeah. You’re like a whole new person,” Lucas continued, squinting at him. “Seriously, who are you, and what have you done with the walking disaster that usually lives here?”

You let out a snort of laughter as Bucky’s jaw twitched. “It’s just a haircut, kid.”

Lucas tilted his head, eyes narrowed as he pointed dramatically at Bucky’s head. “This? This is not just a haircut. This is a ‘I’m about to show everyone I’m the coolest guy at this party’ haircut.”

“What? No, it’s not! I’m not trying to show off.”

Lucas raised an eyebrow, smirking like a seasoned detective who’d just cracked the case wide open. “Oh really? ‘Cause you didn’t care about looking like a caveman until now, right before my party. Coincidence? I think not.”

“I just felt like a change, alright? This has nothing to do with the party. I’m not trying to outshine anyone.” Bucky crossed his arms, standing taller, trying to play it cool.

Lucas grinned wider. “Uh-huh. Sure. So, you just happened to get a haircut right before a big event? Not competitive at all?”

Bucky groaned, clearly trying to keep his cool. “I’m not trying to compete with anybody. I just thought I’d make things... easier for tomorrow.”

“Yeah, right. Easier. You know, if you wanted to look good for once, you could’ve just said so.” Lucas snorted, shaking his head.

Bucky’s jaw twitched as he quickly looked to you for backup, but you were too busy laughing to jump in.

Lucas leaned in dramatically, whispering, “You can relax, Bucky. We all know Mom doesn’t love you for your looks.”

You burst out laughing, clutching your sides as Bucky stared at Lucas, half-amused, half-offended.

“I’m not—,” Bucky started, running his hand over his hair again. “It’s just a haircut!”

“Oh, sure,” Lucas said, stepping closer, his face serious but his eyes full of mischief. “So it has nothing to do with the fact that Patrick’s gonna be here tomorrow? You’re not trying to look cooler than him? You know he works out, right?”

Bucky frowned, looking genuinely puzzled. “Patrick works out?”

Lucas shrugged. “Yup. I heard him mention it once. But hey, at least now you look like you can keep up.”

“Please. I don’t need a haircut to keep up with your Dad.” Bucky crossed his arms and scoffed.

Lucas smirked, still circling him. “Mmhmm. That’s why you’re all cleaned up—so you can make sure nobody at the party outshines you.”

You were practically doubled over at this point, tears streaming down your face from laughter.

“I’m not competing with anybody!” Bucky insisted, throwing his hands up.

“Right, because getting a ‘too cool for school’ haircut right before the party is totally not competitive.” Lucas grinned wider, seeing that he had Bucky cornered.

Bucky clenched his jaw, still trying to hold his ground. “This is a tactical haircut. Streamlined. It’s practical.”

Lucas grinned, clearly not buying it. “Oh, tactical, huh? Right. Is that what you’re gonna tell everyone tomorrow? ‘Hey, check out my tactical haircut. You like?’”

Bucky chuckles and points at Lucas, “Okay, that’s it. You’re done.”

Without warning, he lunged forward, scooping Lucas up and flipping him over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

Lucas squealed, laughing uncontrollably. “Bucky! Put me down!”

“Oh no,” Bucky said, shaking his head as he carried Lucas toward the couch. “You’re gonna sit here and think about your life choices.”

Lucas, still flailing and laughing, managed to gasp, “At least I didn’t need a haircut to look cool!”

Bucky plopped him down onto the couch, shaking his head in disbelief. “You’re gonna pay for this tomorrow, kid. You just wait.”

Lucas grinned up at him, still breathless from laughing. “Oh yeah? What are you gonna do, give me a tactical timeout?”

“Unbelievable. You’re supposed to be on my side here.” Bucky glanced at you, exasperated but unable to hide his smile.

You finally managed to calm down enough to speak. “Oh no, I’m staying out of this. Lucas is absolutely right.”

Lucas beamed with pride as he gave you a thumbs-up. “See? Mom knows what’s up.”

Bucky groaned again, dropping down onto the couch beside Lucas. “Alright, fine. Have your fun tonight. Tomorrow, though, I’m stealing all your cake.”

Lucas gasped, feigning horror. “Not the cake!”

Bucky grinned, leaning back. “Oh yeah. Tactical move.”

× × × ×

The birthday party was in full swing, with kids running around, balloons everywhere, and Lucas at the center of it all. You were watching from a distance, laughing softly as Bucky awkwardly navigated the chaos. He was holding a cupcake in one hand, clearly out of his element, but smiling nonetheless. Everything was going smoothly.

The Avengers were scattered around, trying their best to blend in. Clint was at the snack table, sampling every kind of chip he could get his hands on. Tony was in full I’ve-paid-for-everything-here mode, handing out goodie bags like they were shares in Stark Industries. Nat and Steve were casually watching the kids play, exchanging side glances, while Sam was trying (and failing) to explain some complex game rules to a group of seven-year-olds.

Everything seemed perfect.

Until he arrived.

“Uh, hey,” Bucky muttered to you, nodding toward the door. “That’s, uh… him, right?”

You turned to see Lucas’ dad, Patrick, making his way into the party, looking a bit too put-together for a kids’ birthday—pressed suit, perfectly styled hair, and an aura of someone who had just closed a very important deal five minutes before arriving.

“Yep. That’s Patrick,” you said, trying not to laugh at the grimace on Bucky’s face.

Patrick spotted Lucas and waved. “Hey, buddy! Happy Birthday!” He strode over confidently, handing Lucas a brightly wrapped present.

Lucas opened it, pulling out a brand-new Nintendo Switch. He looked up at his dad and gave a polite smile. “Uh, thanks, Patrick.”

Bucky, still watching from a few feet away, cocked his head. “Why’s he callin’ him Patrick?”

You shrugged, whispering, “Lucas just started calling him that on his own. I think it confuses him.”

Patrick glanced over, finally noticing you and Bucky standing there. He smiled—though it was more of a tight-lipped one—and made his way over, extending his hand to Bucky.

“Hi, I’m Patrick. Lucas’ father,” he said, with an air of someone who’s used to introductions being brief and businesslike.

Bucky hesitated for half a second, staring at Patrick’s perfectly manicured hand like it might explode. Then he awkwardly wiped his own hand on his jeans before shaking it.

“Bucky. You know, the boyfriend.”

The words hung in the air like an awkward mist. Patrick’s smile twitched. “Ah, yes. The… boyfriend. Great to meet you.”

They stood there, shaking hands for what felt like five or ten seconds too long, neither one letting go, each one’s grip tightening ever so slightly. You watched from the side, holding back a laugh as the tension built.

Finally, Patrick cleared his throat and let go. “So, uh, how’s the party going?”

Bucky shrugged. “Good. You know, kids. Loud. Messy. Chaos.”

Patrick nodded, chuckling awkwardly. “Ah, yeah. Well, you know, in finance, things are a bit more... orderly.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow. “Finance, huh? That sounds... fun.”

Patrick straightened his posture, clearly missing the sarcasm. “Oh, it’s very rewarding. Numbers, investments... making sure the market flows smoothly.”

Bucky blinked. “Yeah, I bet. I usually just stop markets by throwing people out windows.”

The silence that followed was deafening. Patrick stared at Bucky, unsure if that was a joke or a confession.

You stifled a laugh behind your hand. “So, how about that gift?” you asked, trying to change the subject. “Lucas, do you like it?”

Lucas, who had wandered over to Bucky’s side, gave a polite nod. “Uh, yeah. Thanks, Dad.”

Patrick smiled, clearly not noticing how forced Lucas’s enthusiasm was. “Glad you like it, buddy.”

As Patrick turned to talk to one of the other parents, Bucky crouched down next to Lucas and whispered, “Hey, what’s up, buddy? You don’t seem that excited.”

Lucas looked up at Bucky and sighed. “I already have a Switch. He bought me one for my 6th birthday. He just… forgot.”

Bucky raised his eyebrows, glancing between Lucas and Patrick, who was fidgeting with his phone. “Ah. I see.”

Patrick, overhearing, laughed nervously. “Well, uh, you can never have too many Switches, right?”

Bucky stood up, crossing his arms with a smirk. “Yeah. Or, you know, you could... I dunno, maybe remember what you got your kid for his birthday last year.”

Patrick blinked, clearly not sure whether Bucky was joking or not. “Well, you know, with finance and all... numbers just blur together sometimes. I have a lot on my plate.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow. “Right. Numbers blur. Must be hard to forget when you’re counting millions.” His voice was laced with sarcasm.

Patrick chuckled, but it was the kind of chuckle people do when they’re uncomfortable. “Yeah, well… finance life.”

Bucky gave him a pointed look. “Yeah, but I bet remembering your kid’s birthday gifts doesn’t really blur with anything, does it?”

Patrick looked away, clearly flustered, mumbling something about "busyness" as he shifted awkwardly in his suit.

From the other side of the party, you could see Clint and Tony watching the exchange with amusement, whispering something to each other while Steve shook his head at the spectacle. Nat gave a sly smile in your direction, clearly picking up on the tension, while Sam made a “yikes” face, pretending to zip his lips as if to say, Yup, this is awkward.

You couldn’t hold it in any longer, and you let out a snort of laughter, patting Bucky on the arm. “Well, Lucas, now you can... switch between your Switches?”

Lucas looked up, a confused smile on his face, while Bucky chuckled softly under his breath. Patrick, however, just stood there, looking like he wished the earth would swallow him whole.

Patrick, cleared his throat and forced a smile. “So, Bucky, what did you get Lucas for his birthday?”

Bucky raised an eyebrow, glancing at you for a second before smirking. “Oh, I didn’t go the ‘two-of-the-same-gift’ route,” he teased, earning a snicker from you.

Patrick’s forced smile faltered slightly, but he maintained his composure. “Right, but I’m sure you got him something nice.”

Bucky gave a nod, gesturing toward the corner of the room. “Got him a custom-built bow and arrow set.” He paused for effect. “You know, something a little more memorable.”

Patrick blinked, clearly caught off guard. “A… bow and arrow? For a seven-year-old?”

Bucky crossed his arms, still smirking. “Hey, I’ve got a friend who’s pretty good with those. Thought it might be a good skill to have. Besides, Lucas loved it.”

Patrick glanced over at Lucas, who was currently showing the bow set to Clint, who was eagerly demonstrating how to hold it properly. Lucas was grinning from ear to ear.

Patrick, trying to recover, chuckled awkwardly. “Well, I’m sure the Nintendo Switch will still get plenty of use.”

Bucky leaned in slightly, lowering his voice just enough so only Patrick could hear, a mischievous glint in his eye. “You know, if Lucas forgets he already has one.”

Patrick's smile tightened again as he awkwardly laughed, clearly regretting asking.

From the sidelines, you could see Tony and Sam observing the whole interaction with raised eyebrows. Tony leaned over to Sam, whispering, 

“I’m giving this five minutes before Finance Dad taps out.” 

Sam grinned, nodding in agreement.

× × × ×

The birthday cake was finally brought out, candles lit, and the room filled with the excited chatter of kids and adults alike. Lucas stood proudly at the center, his face glowing in the soft flicker of the seven candles. Everyone gathered around the table, cheering him on.

"Alright, everyone!" you called out, smiling down at Lucas. "On three! One… two… three! Make a wish, Lucas!"

Lucas squeezed his eyes shut and puffed out his cheeks before blowing out all seven candles in one swift breath. The room erupted into cheers, and you bent down to kiss the top of his head.

Just as the cheers started to die down, someone in the crowd—most likely Tony—yelled out, “Time for a family picture!”

The laughter and chatter quieted as you, Lucas, and Bucky moved toward the cake, ready for the photo. But, just as Bucky stepped up beside Lucas, Patrick appeared at the other side, standing just as close.

Both Bucky and Patrick froze, their eyes locking in an awkward stand-off. Neither moved, both unsure of what the protocol was in this moment. Patrick chuckled nervously, shifting on his feet.

“So… family picture, huh?” Patrick said with an awkward smile, trying to ease the tension.

“Yeah. Family picture,” Bucky replied, his tone flat, clearly unimpressed.

The two men stood on either side of Lucas, staring at each other, neither willing to give up the spot closest to the boy. Lucas, meanwhile, was too focused on choosing the biggest slice of cake to notice the tension brewing between the two.

Clint, who had been quietly observing the whole thing from the side, leaned over to Natasha and whispered, just loud enough to be heard by others, “Looks like someone's gotta blink first.”

Natasha smirked but said nothing, her eyes fixed on the scene in front of her.

Sensing the growing awkwardness, you tried to step in. “Um, you know what, why don’t we take a couple of pictures? That way, everyone gets in,” you suggested, hoping to break the standoff.

But neither Bucky nor Patrick moved. Instead, they both shuffled even closer to Lucas, determined to be the one standing right beside him. Patrick forced a smile, trying to mask his discomfort.

“Well, I mean... I’m his dad, so...” Patrick began, his voice light but strained.

“And I’m here every day,” Bucky shot back, his voice deadpan, arms crossing as if he was daring Patrick to push further.

They stared at each other, tension hanging in the air, both waiting for the other to step back. By now, the Avengers had all noticed. From the other side of the room, Tony leaned over to Sam, his voice a stage whisper that was impossible to miss.

“Who’s taking bets? This is about to get good,” Tony said, grinning.

Sam chuckled. “Ten bucks on Bucky. He’s got that murder stare locked and loaded.”

You let out an exasperated sigh, stepping forward before things got any more awkward. 

“Alright,” you said, laying down the final word. “Bucky, you can be in this one. Patrick, you’ll be in the next one.”

Both men blinked in surprise, caught off guard by your no-nonsense tone. Bucky gave a small, smug smile and slipped into place beside Lucas, casually throwing his arm around the boy’s shoulders.

Patrick nodded stiffly, his smile tight and forced. “Sounds fair.”

“Great,” Tony clapped his hands dramatically, clearly reveling in the tension. “Alright, let’s get this show on the road. Everyone say ‘awkward’!”

The camera flashed, capturing the moment, Bucky’s subtle triumphant grin beside Lucas, while Patrick stood to the side, looking like he was mentally calculating how soon he could make a polite exit.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

🎃 halloween 2024 ABEMA stream news 🎃

***Spoilers below the cut!!!**

The new Halloween event is the second installment in the “Lost with the Book” event series (the first being with Stitch). This one will be called Lost in the Book with (Tim Burton’s) Nightmare Before Christmas! This means we’ll we venturing to Halloween Town and meeting the ACTUAL Nightmare characters, including Jack Skellington, Sally, and Zero themselves (those three were confirmed). Does this mean next year’s Halloween event will also be a Lost in the Book for the other half of the NRC cast—

The new character is named Skelly/Skully J. Graves. He is voiced by Yamaguchi Kappei. Yana worked hard to ensure Skully would look like a skeleton, even from afar! For example, she added a gradient to his hair and glasses to more closely resemble a skull. His shoulder pads and short waist coat are to help give Skully a slender and skeleton-like figure.

The new Halloween series of cards will feature slick stitched pinstriped black suits, inspired by Jack’s iconic look. Nightmare Suits!! The characters this time will be:

R Azul

R Vil

R Malleus finally, his first event R—

R Epel

SR Riddle

SR Trey

SR Jade

SR Idia (Freebie)

SSR Leona

SSR Sebek

SSR Jamil

6/7 dorm leaders in the roster, all the OB boys??? 😭

The Freebie SR is Idia. All SSR cards feature Jack Skellington, similar to how Stitch was featured in the SSRs for his own Lost in the Book event.

Quality of life update, they’re adding XL Nectar. Previously, we had only S, M, and L sizes. XL Nectar should help out with leveling up your cards! (There will be one free XL you can pick up in the Mystery Shop for a limited time.)

… Of course, there is also Lost in the Book with Nightmare Before Christmas merch, like a themed handkerchief, stickers of the event outfits, and charms of the outfits.

They also announced a Pop Up shop with new GloMasq and Playful Land merch. Some new merch they highlight are a Playful Land brooch, Grim acrylics, and mini-mini nuis of the characters in their respective event outfits.

Reminder about Twst Fes and the related merch (the fabric print and the recording of Twst Fes 2023)!

The animation PV features the 3 SSRs in Halloween Town. We also see Skully and Jack posing together, and Skully utters the iconic like “This is Halloween!” (His eye color is seen in the PV; it looks orange-red. They eyes also seem to have a swirl to them??)

EVENT STARTS ON THE FIRST OF OCTOBER 💀 SOON

(The first banner will be SSR Leona / SR Riddle!)

After Leona / Riddle (October 1-15) will be Jamil / Jade (October 15-28), then Sebek / Trey 28 (Oct)-22 (Nov). All three banners will be up from November the 11th to 22nd.

[spliffymae]

rapper!onyankopon.

just some head canons i have.

in my head im imagining a blend of dave and fridayy, where he can sing as well (he got variety!). same universe as my musicproducer!connie fic but reader is not famous here, as opposed to w/ connie’s. (lol i gave her a last name too—davis.) in my mind, im picturing ony from the uk and connie from ny.

★　*　　°　　　　🛰 　°. 🌓　•　　.°•　　　🚀

rapper!ony who first pops up on the scene in a music video of his friend connie’s song. he wasn’t featured on the track, but rather just in the background getting hype with everyone else.

but y’all know how the girlies get when a fine black man/woman/person start trending.

rapper!ony who wasn’t shy about his craft, but just wasn’t big on social media. his agent hated it, he loved it. he simply released music, let people know, and then went about his business.

rapper!ony was trending and although he didn’t take this as an opportunity to get in his social media bag, his best friend, musicproducer!connie did!

rapper!ony who goes from a couple thousand people knowing what he does to over a million people screaming his lyrics at they’re phones on tiktok in ONE night.

“bro, you can’t even get mad at me gang!” connie yelled from his shower. ony was sitting outside, accosting his friend for what he did. “you said you didn’t care what happened to the project!”

“but tell me if you gon post it and make it a whole thing, nigga damn!” ony yelled back.

rapper!ony who now has to adjust to his quickly rising popularity. he has yet to know the number of artists looking for a feature; and he doesn’t know that he secretly has some of these industry boys shaking in their boots because where the hell he come from?

no, rapper!ony is too busy focusing on whyyy they’re a million fan edits of him across tiktok and instagram. clips of him from his streams, connie’s videos, and his other friend’s content.

ony groans as connie’s message banner pops up on his phone, the message being a link to a tiktok. when he clicked it, it was a fan edit of him using his song ‘when it comes to you’. “bro, who keeps sending these to you, man?!” ony exclaimed. connie heard it from his room and snickered.

rapper!ony who had to adjust to being the attention at these red carpet events. he usually just walked behind connie and his girl, along with the rest of the entourage but now he is getting stopped for photographs.

there’s nothing like listening to music live. so rapper!ony puts on a fake smile and pushes through the crowded carpet to get inside. he waves to people he’s worked with, artists, and fans who called out to him. all so he can hear some music.

he sees connie holding hands with his girlfriend, both of them making goofy faces at the cameras. he softly smiles at the couple, but before he could make way, connie somehow senses him and turns to him “ony! ven aquí!” damn!

rapper!ony who doesn’t expect much from the awards show. just to go, support connie, and go home. he was nominated,yeah, but he was also in the category with some of the most popular artists right now…so he wasn’t feeling all that confident.

rapper!ony who is shocked as shocked can be when his name is called from the podium for best new artist.

“F**CK YEAH!” connie yelled, jumping up from his seat along with his girl and the rest of the table—aran, zora, jean, armin, and mikasa.

rapper!ony who walks up on stage with connie who is still screaming from excitement.

“uhhh, i’m not gonna lie, mans weren’t expecting to win still.” ony laughed, running a hand over his fresh waves. the audience laughed with him.

“first i would like to thank God, the most high who has blessed me with this amazing opportunity. i want to thank my people for having my back; connie—this man,” ony pointed behind him to connie, who was full out filming the moment on his phone.

“who told me on a random day when we were cleaning out our college dorm room that if we made a project together we would be the new heartthrobs of the generation. connie i thank you for being you; having my back and working alongside me. my brother for life, that is.” connie screamed, and so did his girlfriend from the audience as the claps poured in.

“and finally, i want to thank my heart in human form. the woman who made all of this possible, y/n davis. she don’t like the attention so im gonna hear bout this name drop when i get home. but babes, i love you, and thank you for being my rib. i owe you the world and more. and to her parents, thank you for my better half. thank you lot again. love!” ony raised his hand with the award, smiling and waving to the crowd and cameras as he walked to the back.

meanwhile, across the country, cuddled up in her bed was y/n, who was watching the award show before going to sleep. she had expressed to ony she wasn’t too sure about going, not liking the cameras and attention. he reassured her it was okay because there wasn’t any way he would be winning with who else was in the category.

so…safe to say when you saw your boyfriend on the stage with the award in his hand, you could not contain your shock and excitement. you jumped out of bed screaming and quickly getting to your phone camera to record the tv. squeals and “yeah baby” was all you could say as he gave connie his thanks.

but then… when you heard him say your name, for everyone around the world to hear, everything just turned to shock as your phone fell from your frozen hands, still recording. you were stunned. he said your name. your government name. on national television.

“ONY!!!”

[bamsara]

Hello! So I was wondering about something with your Twitch Livestreams. This’ll probably sound silly but I noticed you had an icon that displayed song titles for the music being played and wanted to know how you did that? I’ve been looking all over and so far have found nothing for it. Thank you in advance if you’re able to respond!

It's the banner used by COTL to display happenings in the Cult!

Here's the banner:

When I have the banner in my stream overlay, (above all other layers) I add spotify or my personal desktop music as screenshare, shrink the visible screen to just fit around the player portion that displays the name + artist, and then put it over the banner so it's easy to read.

(For Streamlabs) To put your music player over the image, go to capture image and select whatever music player you use (I use spotify or my desktop) Select new source, (might have to click the tab at bottom of the window), select music player. THEN hold down 'ALT' as you select the captured screen, and you can crop the window that way around the player, then drag over the banner or whatever image you use.) This tutorial shows with a webcam but it works with everything.

As for my streams, I took the banner and drew symbols around it so it's a little more animated whenever I have my 'break' or 'starting soon' screen up. It's not what I used for displaying music, but if anyone wants to use that here it is!

[dandelionsresilience]

Dandelion News - January 1-7

Like these weekly compilations? Tip me at $kaybarr1735 or check out my Dandelion Doodles!

1. Homes built with clay, grass, plastic and glass: How a Caribbean island is shying away from concrete

“[… Clay] traps moisture which then evaporates and pulls heat from the surface as it goes. […] The roof is covered in old recycled advertising banners and piece of a water tank, the other half of which is used to house some of Rahaman-Noronha's fish [… and] multi-coloured glass bottles inset into walls provide an avenue for streams of light and colour.”

2. To Combat Phoenix’s Extreme Heat, a New Program Provides Sustainable Shade

“The neighborhood workshops allow residents to get a shade plan tailored to their community’s needs and identify the locations where officials can plant trees. Meanwhile, the workforce-development side of the program creates the jobs needed to keep the trees alive for generations[….]”

3. Conservation corridors provide hope for Latin America’s felines

“[… S]cience has shown that to maintain healthy populations there needs to be connection between individuals. [… A] protected area that is close to another has more species and more potential for their survival.”

4. Social program cuts tuberculosis cases among Brazil's poorest by more than half

“The decrease [“in TB cases and deaths”] was over 50% in extremely poor people and more than 60% among the Indigenous populations. […] "We know that the program improves access to food [… and healthcare…] and strengthens people's immune defenses as a result.””

5. Geothermal has vast potential to meet the world’s power needs

“New geothermal systems could technically provide as much as 600 terawatts of carbon-free power capacity by 2050[…. C]ountries could cost-effectively deploy over 800 GW of geothermal power capacity using technology that’s in development today[….]”

6. New D.C. Catholic archbishop is pro-LGBTQ+ and anti-Trump

“In 2018, he objected to the blaming of gay priests for the clergy sexual abuse crisis, “saying that such abuse was a matter of power, not sexual orientation[….]” “We must disrupt those who portray refugees as enemies [… and] seek to rob our medical care, especially from the poor.””

7. Chesapeake Bay Will Gain New Wildlife Refuge

“The Chesapeake Bay area will have a new wildlife refuge for the first time in a quarter century. […] “This new refuge offers an opportunity to halt and even reverse biodiversity loss in this important place, and in a way that fully integrates and respects the leadership and rights of Indigenous peoples and local communities.””

8. Inside Svalbard seed vault’s critical mission to stop our favourite fruit and veg from going extinct

“[… T]he world’s largest secure seed storage […] sits proudly in a massive former coal mine[….] Right now, there are over 1,331,458 samples of 6,297 crop species. […] “During 2024, 61 seed genebanks deposited 64,331 seed samples, including 21 from institutes that deposited seeds for the first time this year[….]””

9. Medical debt will be erased from credit reports for all Americans under new federal rule

“The rule will affect more than 15 million Americans, raising their credit scores by an estimated average of 20 points. [… S]tates and localities have already utilized American Rescue Plan (ARP) funds to support the elimination of over $1 billion in medical debt for more than 700,000 Americans[….]”

10. 'Forgotten' water harvesting system transforms 'barren wasteland' into thriving farmland

“"The process started with the community-based participatory planning[….]” 10% to 15% of the water will actually soak into the ground to replenish the water table, creating a more sustainable agricultural process.”

December 22-28 news here | (all credit for images and written material can be found at the source linked; I don’t claim credit for anything but curating.)

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

Cannibals [Chapter 10: Arteries and Rain] [Series Finale]

Series summary: You are his sister, his lover, his betrothed despite everyone else’s protests; you have always belonged to Aemond and believe you always will. But on the night he returns from Storm’s End with horrifying news, the trajectories of your lives are irrevocably changed. Will the war of succession make your bond permanent, or destroy the twisted and fanatical love you share?

Chapter warnings: Language, sexual content (18+ readers only), blood and violence and death, Alicent desperately trying to bond with her freak children.

Word count: 4.6k

❤️ All my writing can be found HERE! 💙

Tagging: @themoonofthesun @chattylurker @moonfllowerr @ecstaticactus @mrs-starkgaryen, more in comments 🥰

The same hand that once turned a key in the locks of closets and trunks, that moved his game piece across the board until it landed on the same space as yours and sent your bat hurtling back to the start, that shoved you into an ice-flecked stream in the Vale, that yanked you, bruised you, pushed you, trapped you, tore off your clothes, unraveled your braid, committed sins that others believe are beyond redemption; now you grasp for Aemond’s hand and it is not there.

I’ve lost him, you think, splintering like a shell struck with a mallet. I was too late.

Then the Cannibal dives and banks steeply, and your outstretched, searching fingers close around Aemond’s wrist.

He slams into the Cannibal’s side, grabs a jutting black spine with his other hand, and pulls himself upwards to where you are. The ground is closer, the field and the castle and the Gods Eye where the bones of Daemon and Caraxes and Vhagar will spend eternity in the sunless depths. The wind is cold and vicious, howling in your ears. From where the Cannibal torched the Northmen, dark smoke billows into the air and makes your eyes water, makes your lungs burn.

As the Cannibal descends, Aemond speaks to you only once that you can hear. He is still panting, trying to catch his breath from the fall he had believed would kill him. He shouts to you over the roar of the wind and the deafening whirr of dragon wings: “I always knew you were worthy.”

On the shore of the Gods Eye, Cregan Stark is down on his knees. He has surrendered to spare the lives of his remaining men; thousands of soldiers are flocking to yield with him, their empty hands held high in contrition, submitting to the orders of troops carrying Aegon’s banner. You recognize your uncle Gwayne Hightower among them. Criston looks up at you as he holds Cregan at the lakeshore, a blade to his throat. The Cannibal soars past a group of Northmen sprinting for the trees, deserters, cowards, and they are engulfed in flames. As one of the men burns, your dragon scoops him into his mouth and bites down, fangs impaling flesh, jaws crushing bones. There is a muffled scream and then nothing. You feel the Cannibal’s hunger being dulled like you’ve eaten something hot and bloody yourself, boar or venison dripping with grease.

You land near Criston and Cregan Stark, the gales from the Cannibal’s wings rocking the trees and making waves on the dark, enigmatic blue of the lake, a color that reminds you of Aegon’s eyes. The Cannibal is already impatient, lurching from side to side. He wants this stranger off of his back. He will tolerate no one but you.

“You should dismount,” you tell Aemond, and he promptly finds a path to the earth, scrambling down the onyx-black spines that protrude from the dragon’s thorax and taking several hurried strides away. The Cannibal glares at him and growls, steam rising from his flaring nostrils. But he can feel who Aemond is to you—ricochets of animal lust and episodic tenderness and doubt and surety and hatred and love—and so the Cannibal refrains from killing him.

You climb down from your dragon and walk to where Cregan Stark is kneeling. Criston is gaping at you, thunderstruck. Aemond steps closer to you and draws his sword. He carries the weapon that belonged to Aegon before he was burned at Rook’s Rest, the Conqueror’s sword Blackfyre. Aemond is watching you, and you have the impression he is trying to tell you something. You feel echoes of the wounds the past year has left in him: regret, shame, the most inescapable pain he’s ever known. He doesn’t want you to have to feel the same things.

You recall what Mother, standing defiantly behind the iron bars of her cell, once told Rhaenyra: Perhaps you imagine that you will kill every last Green, and all of our loyalists throughout the Seven Kingdoms, millions of people, and therefore you will have no use for bricks upon which to build a lasting peace. But I think that would be a mistake.

Cregan Stark, tall and rugged and with dark hair that runs to his broad shoulders, bows his head. He seems stoic, but his breathing is rapid and you can see his jugular pulsing madly in his throat. He has never met you before, but there’s only one person you could be. “Princess.”

Snowflakes and cinders fall from the sky. Escaped strands of your silver hair blow in the wind. I hate him, you think. But nothing I do now can raise the dead. And there must be a future for those of us who are left. You say to the Warden of the North: “Yield and you will live.”

“We yield,” Cregan Stark agrees immediately, placing his sword on the ground in front of him. It is Valyrian steel; it is called Ice. If he obeys, you will let him keep it. “We will return to the North at once.”

“No,” you say. “You will march south to pledge fealty to the king. And your men will help us rebuild, since their support emboldened Rhaenyra’s treason.”

Behind you, the Cannibal snarls and gnashes his teeth, stained with fresh blood and flecked with shreds of organs. He is the largest claimed dragon in the world. Vhagar is dead, and so are Caraxes and Syrax, Dreamfyre and Meleys, Moondancer, Seasmoke, Vermax, and Arrax. But there are some beasts left as well. Vermithor, Silverwing, and Tessarion are free. Nettles is somewhere far away with her mount Sheepstealer. Sunfyre is healing on Dragonstone. Little Joffrey Velaryon has the young creature Tyraxes, and his silver-haired brother Aegon has Stormcloud. The juvenile Shrykos was orphaned when Jaehaerys died, but Jaehaera still possesses Morghul. And so both the Targaryens and their dragons will live on for generations, and perhaps forever.

“Yes, princess,” Cregan Stark replies, gazing with thinly-veiled horror at the Cannibal, a monster that only someone who has known hatred could see beauty in.

You tell Aemond and Criston: “The Cannibal and I will escort you to King’s Landing to ensure your safety. I’ll keep him as far from your men as I can. I know he unnerves people. Believe me, he doesn’t want to be so close to you either. Not unless he intends to eat you.”

Criston is sheathing his sword. Aemond is smiling, faint and tentative but proud, so proud.

~~~~~~~~~~

When you arrive it is raining in King’s Landing, cold and misty and grey; soon there will be snow. Winter will last a year, or two, or five, but you will survive it. Aemond is already sending letters to Dorne and the Triarchy to forge trade agreements that will help supply the realm with food. He feels responsible for attending to this. His destruction in the Riverlands has endangered everyone. You rarely speak to Aemond, nothing beyond logistics. You are relieved that he survived, and your fury is waning like a crescent moon…but you don’t know what to say to him. Each time you try, you think of Luca and Jace and all the others, and your words crumble like bodies charred to ashes. Aemond gives you space and silence, but he watches you, and sometimes you overhear him telling the soldiers stories of the Conqueror’s wife Visenya, the same reverence in his voice he’s had since childhood.

At the gate of the Red Keep, Mother rushes out and embraces you first, collides with you, collapses and sobs into your shoulder as you hold her like a good daughter would. She is so thin you fear you will shatter her. Jaehaera and Maelor follow after Mother, so much older than you remember them. Jaehaera runs to embrace you too, but Maelor hesitates by the gate. His sister goes back for him, promises that everything will be okay now, and walks with him to where you are crumpled on the cobblestones with Mother. Jaehaera hugs you tightly, but Maelor is still frowning. Perhaps he does not remember the details, but he knows he has the sense that you once betrayed him.

“I’m so sorry, Maelor,” you whisper. “I would never hurt you. I would burn anyone who tried to.” And he relents and allows you to bundle him into your arms, and once he’s there he finds it feels like home.

Mother is weeping for Helaena and Daeron and Aegon. “Aegon is alive,” you say. “He is wounded, but he is safe and has been in hiding on Dragonstone. Aemond has arranged for a ship to bring him here. You will see him tomorrow or the day after.”

“Long live the king!” Criston shouts, you all echo him, Mother with an astonished smile and tears glistening in her large dark eyes. Her firstborn son is back from the dead. She will have the chance to try to learn to love him properly.

“My girl, my brave girl,” Mother says, touching your face and your hair. Your eyes are savage; you smell like smoke. “What’s happened to you? Rhaenyra told me that you’d given birth to a baby at Heart’s Home, that she and I shared a grandson, but…” She looks around, hoping that a maid will appear carrying an infant with Jace’s pug nose and unruly dark curls. And there is such a child, but not in the land of the living. You explain this, and Mother takes your hand and leads you to the sept, and for the first time in your life you join her without protest. Together you light candles for those who were lost, and a little more of your bitterness burns away as the wax melts into pools and cools like lava that runs into the sea.

The king returns to his city, and the smallfolk pour into the streets to welcome him. He is ashamed of his scars, his infirmity, the fact that he must be carried in a litter, but to them he is a man who has suffered just like they have—maimed and marooned and grieving martyred loved ones—and proved that there is hope for a different sort of future. That first day, Aegon spends ten hours on the Iron Throne listening to the stories of his people and learning what they need, you and Aemond standing on either side of him. Each time the Cannibal flies overhead, growling in a rumble like thunder and casting a vast shadow, they do not shrink away but beam up at him as their protector, their assurance that no further harm can befall King’s Landing. Women embroider him into their blankets and pillowcases. Children carve tiny wooden figurines of him. Cregan Stark and his Northmen bend the knee, as do representatives from scores of other treasonous houses. Aegon pardons them; but he grins wickedly when the Cannibal’s roars quake the Great Hall and battle-hardened warriors tremble.

You wait until Aegon is back to see Rhaenyra. You go to the dungeon with your brothers, Mother, and Criston, and you stand in the same place Rhaenyra did when she agreed to marry you to Jace. You were supposed to save her son. Instead, your love for Aemond condemned him.

What was our marriage for? What was any of this for?

The woman who once aspired to be queen and paid the price in blood is a ghost, hushed and weightless, hunched in a corner with her knees to her chest, her long unkempt silver hair thinning. When she sees you, she crawls to the door of her cell and grips the rusted iron bars with skeletal hands. Her watery eyes are frantic and darting like a trapped animal’s. “My children—”

“They are unharmed and still at the Eyrie with Rhaena,” you say, and Rhaenyra sobs in relief.

“Please let them live,” she begs you hoarsely. It is difficult to reach the Eyrie in the winter, but you could do it on the Cannibal. You could raze the fortress like Aemond burned Heart’s Home.

“Because you showed the same mercy to Helaena and Daeron?” Aegon seethes.

“They are helpless, they are blameless. It was my decision to go to war, not theirs.”

“And you shall atone for it,” Aegon taunts, leaning heavily on his walking stick. “I will take you to Dragonstone and Sunfyre will eat you alive. How do you like that, bitch? He’ll start at your feet and work his way up, and you will feel everything.”

“Jace would want her to be spared,” you say quietly.

“I’m not taking suggestions from the delegation of the dead.”

“I’m serious,” you say. Aegon’s scarred brow furrows, Criston is incredulous. Aemond is watching you thoughtfully, his right hand resting on Blackfyre’s hilt. Only Mother is not startled; instead she is studying Rhaenyra wearily, perhaps wondering if she can stomach the mercy the gods would want her to extend to even the most vile of sinners. “That’s why Jace married me,” you remind them. “So his family might survive even if the Blacks lost the war. And he swore to do the same in return. He was kind to me. When he traveled here to King’s Landing, he ensured that Helaena, Jaehaera, and Maelor were treated well. He would have protected Mother if our side had been defeated.”

“And so you’re proposing…what, that we free her?!” Aegon exclaims.

“Her dragon is gone. Her cause is hopeless. But half the realm fought for her, and if we are to earn their loyalty rather than merely compel it with force, we will need to offer concessions. We could give Driftmark to Joffrey—he is allegedly a Velaryon, after all—and allow Rhaenyra to reside there under guard. When her sons with Daemon are grown, we can marry them into the great houses that allied with us in the war. Both branches of the family will survive, and eventually they will grow back together through marriage, just as Jace and I learned to care for each other.”

“She’s a traitor.” Aegon glares hatefully at Rhaenyra. “She’s a murderer, she’s a monster.”

“She could make the same accusations against Aemond, or you, or me,” you say calmly. “Consider it. Take it to the council. You are the king, and it is your decision either way. But this war began with Targaryens devouring each other. And if we continue to succumb to this fury, this fire…then someday there will be none of us left, and our bloodlines and our dragons will be myths and nothing more.”

You turn to go, and Rhaenyra’s bony hand strikes out from between the bars of her cell and seizes your wrist. In a second, Aemond is there; but you shake your head and he retreats. You are not in danger. Rhaenyra cannot hurt you now.

“Where is Luca?” Rhaenyra asks you, pleading and pitiful, terrified of the answer. “Where’s the baby? No one has spoken of him, not the guards, not the maids. The people don’t seem to know he exists. Is he dead?” The tears that well up and glitter in your eyes reveal the truth before you can say it. Rhaenyra nods, weeping. “Aemond killed him when he burned Heart’s Home, didn’t he?”

Once you lied for Aemond on the night Luke died over Shipbreaker Bay: Luke was an enemy. He perished in combat. And now, just as instinctively, you refuse to disavow him. “No,” you say solemnly, agony choking your words, Aemond looking at you, racked with guilt and entirely mystified. “Luca died of fever three days before the attack. It wasn’t Aemond’s fault.”

“So Jace’s line has ended.” Rhaenyra has lost him all over again. She releases your hand and sinks to the stone floor, kneeling there despondently.

“Yes,” you say, briefly touching a palm to one of her jagged, waifish shoulders. And you feel a flicker of something you would have thought was impossible: sympathy, compassion, kinship. “But you still have Joffrey.” You still have a son of Harwin Strong.

You leave the drafty gloom of the dungeon and return to Maegor’s Holdfast, where life is beginning again. Maids are stripping away every vestige of Rhaenyra’s tenure here. A hundred cats, once brought to the Red Keep by Grandsire, trot lazily through the corridors and groom themselves on windowsills. You take Jaehaera and Maelor with you to collect seashells on the chilly, fog-swept beach and teach them how to make mosaics. You craft one depicting Vhagar for Aemond, and give it to him without a word. He brings you a new roost for bats, forget-me-nots painted onto the oak wood box, a deep blue velvet cover to blot out the daylight.

Each night your bed seems to grow bigger, more lonely, more unnaturally vacant. When you are here…think of me, Aemond once wrote to you; and gradually, like mountains are formed over eons, you do.

~~~~~~~~~~

Several weeks after you arrive home, you bleed for the first time since you gave birth to Luca, your body healed and replenished, your corporal almanac beginning again. Soon you will have another child. Soon your hatred and your grief will fade even further, never disappearing but becoming cool to the touch and clear like glass. The flow of blood is heavy, and your cramps are terrible; but you know what will relieve you.

You find Aemond in the small council chamber, where he spends so much of his time. Sometimes he is in meetings with Aegon and Criston and Mother and the rest of the king’s advisors, sometimes he is examining maps and making calculations. But often he is simply here alone and empty-handed, the weight of the past year mooring him like an anchor does a ship. He does not seem to hear you come in. He is sitting with his elbows resting on his knees, his hands clasped together, his melancholic blue gaze on the floor. He is mourning Vhagar. He is mourning what he once had with you.

You sweep across the room to him, crimson gown, bare feet. You lift Aemond’s chin and say, soft and gentle: “Enough.”

He looks at you as if he’s not sure if this is real. Then after a moment, he smiles. “I missed you.”

“I know.” You flash a mischievous grin, taking several steps back from him. “If I ran, do you think you could catch me?”

“I do.”

“I’m very fast.”

“But you want to be caught.”

Aemond lunges for you; you snatch your hand away just as his fingernails are biting into the vulnerable flesh of your forearm. You bolt to the other side of the small council chamber, careening around the table. Aemond follows, his silver hair flowing behind him, his boots thumping against the floor. He grabs you, hurls you against the wall, pins you there with his hips as he rips off his black leather tunic and kisses you messily, deeply, gulping down all the time he’s lost. Your hair is torn from its braid. Your pulse is racing, low moans spilling from your lips. Aemond is not taken aback at all when he reaches under your scarlet gown to find a bundle of bloodied rags tucked between your thighs. He whisks them away and replaces them with his right hand, rough and forceful.

It’s been a year since he’s touched you this way, and you’ve had a child since then. You stop him, a palm pressed to his chest. Suddenly, you are self-conscious. You must warn him. “I don’t look the same as I used to. I don’t feel the same.”

“You’re still you,” Aemond says tenderly. His thumbprint traces the arc of your jaw, skims down the front of your throat, ghosts delicately over the scar that begins at your collarbone. This is where he mended you with a needle and thread; this is where he almost lost you. “You belong to me, you always will. Nothing can change that.” Then he kisses you again, and you are drunk in it, warm all over and melting into the forbidden ancient magic you share, the violence and the hatred and the devotion and the love, the insatiable hunger that thuds in your tangled arteries.

Aemond drags you to the table and throws you down onto it. You can feel bruises blooming like violets beneath your skin, the hot euphoric pressure of trapped blood. You try to crawl away from him, scratching your way across the table. Aemond grips your ankles and hauls you closer, wrenches you onto your back, pushes your thighs apart and buries his fingers in you—slick lust and clotted blood, muscles loosening with desperate need—and unlaces his trousers with his other hand so at last he can take you as a husband would. He leans down over the table and seizes your jaw to hold you still, watching your face as he pushes himself inside you, knowing that he’s not hurting you, knowing that you are whole again after a year of having pieces carved away.

Aemond thrusts carefully at first, and then hard and deep, and you hook your arms around his neck and pull yourself upright so you can taste him, whisper to him, moan and whimper into his sweat-damp throat. Aemond tugs down your bodice so he can stroke and bite at your breasts. And you feast on each other until you are both satiated and gasping for air, your blood staining his skin and trickling down his legs, the table painted with smudges of viscous red. Before you leave together for a bath murky with soap and steam, Aemond drags his tongue over the wood, drinking your copper and iron and youth and desire; and when he smiles at you with blood on his lips and chin, you lick his face clean.

Later that night in the hour of the wolf, his tasks of governance behind him, Aemond comes to your chambers and climbs into bed beside you. And he holds you like he did when you were a girl he had shoved into a frigid stream in the Vale, burning up with fever as The Stranger stood in your doorway.

~~~~~~~~~~

You are married on Dragonstone. You and Aemond ask for Aegon’s permission and no one else’s. You want Mother there even if you fear she will not be able to hide her disappointment, but she and Criston attend and make no complaints, standing together amidst the black volcanic rocks and the mist, murmuring back and forth about the many oddities of your house. You don’t mind; you are glad they have each other. It is very lonely to be surrounded by creatures so different from yourself.

Jaehaera and Maelor giggle as they chase minnows and skittering red crabs around the tidepools. Aegon watches them from where he is sprawled on the wet sand swigging his wine, smiling wistfully, effusively admiring the seashells they bring him, heaps overflowing in their tiny hands. When Vermithor roars from the other side of the island, Maelor looks up and gazes intently through the fog as if someone has called his name. Perhaps one day he will claim the Bronze Fury. When you return to Maegor’s Holdfast, you will give him the small oak dragon that Aegon once carved for you.

Afterwards you tell Mother, blood from the ancient Valyrian ceremony still drying on your lips: “You were right.”

She is puzzled, her brow crinkling as she dabs gingerly at your wound with her green handkerchief, embroidered with the Hightower of Oldtown. “About what, dear?”

“A year ago, I didn’t know anything besides how it had always been with Aemond. I didn’t really have a choice in the matter. But now I do.”

Mother distracts herself by tending to your lip, some infinitesimal way in which she can mend you. Her white hands are wrinkled and frail. Her coppery hair thrashes in the cruel wind. “You being happy brings me peace.”

Your voice goes quiet, somber, ashamed. “I’m sorry I couldn’t save Helaena and Daeron. I’m sorry I failed.”

“Oh, darling, it wasn’t your fault. We tried, didn’t we?” Mother says, smiling sadly and cradling your cheek. And then she tells you for the first time in your life: “I’m proud of you.”

During the short journey home, you sail past the island of Driftmark, where Rhaenyra, her three surviving sons, and Rhaena now reside with the council’s assent. As you peer over the side of the ship, you spy sapphire dorsal fins of sailfish rising up through the frothing surf, and you lift Maelor so he can see them too. In King’s Landing, there are statues being chiseled out of marble to be placed throughout the city, not just effigies of Jaehaerys and Helaena and Daeron but also Jace, Luke, Baela. The old wounds must be stitched closed. The realm must be united again. The Targaryens must not allow their hunger for fire and blood to turn inwards, lest the last of the Valyrians and all their dragons perish from the earth. Your first son will be named Lucerion after the child you lost; Aemond has already promised this. Jaehaera, sweet and benign like her dead mother, has been betrothed to Jace’s brother Joffrey.

When his wings have healed enough, Sunfyre flies home to King’s Landing to be with Aegon. When fragments of Vhagar’s bones and teeth wash up on the shore of the Gods Eye, Aemond has them brought south so he can burn them. The Cannibal does not slumber in the Dragonpit, nor does he seek you out for comfort or companionship. He ranges far and only comes to you when kindling threats make you hateful again. There are rebellions in the Riverlands where Aemond has made generations of enemies, but Harrenhal and its vassals are always loyal. Since the day you claimed the Cannibal, you are rarely ill. Your chills and fevers and headaches have vanished like a dead language no one is left to remember.

One day summer will return, and there will be roses and blue jays in the garden again, ladybugs and dragonflies and forget-me-nots. But tonight snow is falling outside, hushed and powdery, and you are reminded of when you were at Heart’s Home with Luca and Jace and Lady Caro. You miss being able to talk to Jace; you are grievously aware of the absence of Luca’s fledgling weight in your arms. Aemond knows this, and he understands that you are in need of a distraction.

On the floor of your bedchamber as a sweltering fire crackles in the hearth, the five of you are gathered around the board. Jaehaera and Maelor are finally old enough to play. Jaehaera has inherited Helaena’s yellow butterfly; Maelor’s game piece is Daeron’s purple shadowcat. Your new bats are scrabbling out of their roost and gliding through the window you’ve left open for them. Their names are Ocean, Sorrow, Stream, Winter, Dreams, Rain, Peace.

Presently, it is Jaehaera’s turn. She tosses the dice but they tumble too far, clattering across the room. Aegon helps her fetch them. Maelor asks if you will help him make a mosaic of Vermithor the Bronze Fury, and of course you agree.

“I love you,” you say to Maelor as you comb your fingers through his white-blonde hair, and he stares up at you, bewildered. Perhaps no one has ever told him this before. You say it again, smiling. “I love you.”

Now it’s Aemond’s turn. He rolls the dice, pretends to misread nine dots as ten, lands on Aegon’s space and sends his piece back to the start instead of yours.