#the farther on the right you go the more casual the clothing

[feu-ardent]

Thank you for the absolutely gorgeous fanart!

I can't believe this ragtag bunch of teenagers are trying to hold a study session to save Mr Bear from failing his last year of junior high. This is heading toward an explosive result with an energy that cannot be denied.

Hey hey @feu-ardent ! I'm your Secret Santa this year! I hope you are having great holidays, and at the time I'm posting this, a very very happy new year!! I almost never draw the members of the Earth Eleven, so it has been fun.

I tried to more or less follow the prompts, this is meant to be a photo taken by Minori in the library while they are trying to help Kusaka with his math homework 💚

Thank you @ina11secretsakka2022 for hosting this!!

[maxivstappen]

congrats on 1k again mel 🤍 i'm so proud of u!!

i'm requesting for ur event: the lyrics "you make me wanna fall in love" from "juno" by sabrina, and the driver is oscar piastri

౨ৎ MAKE YOU FALL IN LOVE ‧˚. OP81

౨ৎ PART OF MY 1K EVENT & my short n' sweet series (not posted yet) ౨ৎ

summary — you said it was casual, but you both knew it wasn’t. he liked to tell people that he’s certainly not in love with you, so maybe you just had to make him fall in love.

a/n — thank you so much for your constant support ml🥹 im not too happy with how this turned out, but i hope you enjoy reading anyway <3 based on the song ‚juno’ by sab!

warnings — kinda smutty?? jealous!oscar, making out, very suggestive, hints of angst, english isn’t my first language, not proofread

It really wasn’t your fault.

You decided to keep it casual as to not get him into any drama, so that people know his focus was keen on racing - becoming a world champion and whatnot - and also for your sake, because the hate, if you weren’t used to it, really could become unbearable, and the last thing Oscar wanted was for you to have to deal with any of that, you were just way too precious to him for that. So the decision was made. No strings attached.

Stupid, right? No strings attached is something to settle on before being all the way into it. Because at that point of your relationship, there was no way to keep it casual anymore. The only way was to take a few things that had been said two or three times too often back. To leave it all behind and really only do those things for ‚urgent needs‘ . No more spending the night or cooking together or meeting up without the friend group or sneaking away from said friend group just so he could finally rip the dress you had been teasing him with all night right off of you. But he had other plans, he seemed to just keep going with it. Telling you how much he missed you every time he was back from the long weekends, repeating the same three words over and over again as he makes his way down your thighs, kissing every clothed and unclothed spot he could reach from under you.

The first time it happened it was simply an accident, at least that’s what you told everyone. At least that’s what you told yourselves. But your touch and perfume still lingered even after a week, so the next time you saw each other at a birthday party of one of your mutual friends, Oscar couldn’t keep his hands off you either. Confessions of being attracted were spoken out loud and the only thing keeping you from taking it farther was nothing more than a mental holdback. You were scared of the public. He was scared to see you hurt because of that.

After a weekend during summer break spent together you asked him to finally decide on where to go on from this. He blurted out that he’s not in love, so there was no reason for things to get complicated. Your breath hitched. Casual hookups was what he said. Friends with benefits, you chuckled, seemingly angreeing with him as to not make this situation any weirder, even if it hurt just a tiny bit. But he was right. You had a different idea of a perfect life than he had. Racing was his passion, being in the spotlight was part of the sport, and you couldn’t even handle having to hold presentations in class because you hated being the center of attention. You two were just too different.

So yes. It is his fault! Because if he’s really, after all these lovey-dovey moment shared, still not in love — like you admittedly were — then he should stop acting like he did. Why would he get you flowers every few weeks? Why would he gift you a whole vacation with your best friend including hotel, trips and things a sane person wouldn’t even ask for for your birthday, and the rest of your friends would only get a normal birthday card and occasionally whatever small thing they had wished for? If you were really just casual, then why did he treat you as if none of this was ever just casual at all? Why did he treat you like his girlfriend if he so confidently stated that he’s not in love with you just months ago?

He couldn’t expect you not to want him to fall for you too if he was the one who made you fall for him in the first place. As if the “casual” sex wasn’t enough already, he just had to do the most romantic shit for you as to not let you get over him at all. He wanted to play with your head, he made it obvious. Too many mixed signs, too many actions done but too little words said. Lucky for you and for him, two can play the game.

If he was sooo sure he’s not in love with you, which he just had to be, maybe you just had to make him realize his loss if he ever lost you. You had to make sure he knew that you were desired also by men who weren’t him, and since it‘s his fault you fell for him in the first place, he should be the one who has to face he consequences of not loving you back.

In other words, a little jealousy clearly wouldn’t hurt him.

You were getting ready in the bathroom of your apartment together with your best friend, “juno“ by Sabrina Carpenter playing in the background while you gossiped about whatever came to mind — including Oscar and you. It was a secret to everybody else, but not to her. She was the one you cried to after Oscar told you he didn’t have feelings for you.

You finished up your makeup with some lipgloss, and once you were final,y content with your accessories and outfits, you made your way over to your friend’s, jack’s, birthday. Everybody was there, including Oscar. And Lando. His only ally and his biggest rival. If that didn’t make him crack, then nothing would, but you decided to try, at least. Lando and you got along alright already when you had only just met, and he was the first man to point out that Oscar and you aren’t just friends, right?

So when you suddenly put your hand on his arm, slowly rubbing up and down his biceps, he was confused at first, and then caught up on your quick nod in Oscar‘s direction while holding eye contact with him. Lando didn’t mean to do him any harm, but as much as he loved his teammate, he would never be one to turn down an opportunity to mess with him like this, especially not if he knew it would, at last, make Oscar snap so he didn‘t have to listen to his hopeless whining about his relationship with you being oh so complicated. Just ball up and confess, man.

It was innocent at first. Just simple touches, your hand on his chest for just a tiny second because you needed something to steady yourself on as your reached behind him to grab your drink from the small table the couch stood in front of, or his arm around your waist when you all stood next to each other to take a round of shots. Lando was certainly amused and your best friend was winking and giggling at you the whole night, seemingly loving your plan, because Oscar was definitely reacting.

His blood was boiling and he wanted to punch that smug look right off of Lando‘s face. How dare he touch you when he knew that Oscar, his own teammate, loved you?

Oscar thought it was better like this. Playing pretend instead of facing the truth, and he was pretty damn good at doing so. He was sure you believed him when he said that he doesn‘t want your relationship to include anything other than moments of lust, he thought it was easier that way. He thought it would make things less complicated, thought he could live his life without having to put you in any danger, live his life without needing you by his side every second of his damned life if he just put some boundaries. Surprise! It only made things worse, plus apparently, guys seemed to think you were available now, thought they could have you like only he can. And it made him fucking furious.

So when you stood up to pour yourself another drink in the kitchen, he followed, of course not before shooting the other driver for McLaren a death glare. Lando sighed and leanded back in his seat, happy to see your man finally making a real move. He hoped so, at least. Oscar closed the door after entering. It was only you two now.

“Fancy another beer?“ You asked calmly, but the feeling in your stomach was far from calm. This could end in complete rejection, maybe he could see right through your façade and thought you were childish for doing this? But how could you not?! Oscar himself made you do it with his mix of signs every damn time you saw each other!

He shook his head.

The tension between you was palpable as he watched your every move, back turned to him. You felt awkward, but tried to ignore it. The light was dim, and you could still feel the bass vibrating through the floor and the walls coming from the speakers in the living room. Was music this loud even allowed at this hour?

You finished pouring yourself some more champagne when you saw him walking over to you in the reflection of the glass cupboard in front of you. You sucked in a breath, not daring to say anything, feeling slightly hazy from the alcohol you‘ve drunken in the past few hours already. His cologne became starker as he stepped closer to you, eyes closed as you let the familiar smell of him take over you completely. You only opened them again once you realized he caged you between himself and the counter, pressing himself against your behind. He started softly kissing down your neck behind your ear, almost tickling you with how light his lips felt against your hot skin. You wanted this, you wanted him. But his touch wasn’t nearly enough, you wanted all of him, and not just his body. Every yet so little interaction you had during the evening left you with butterflies going crazy in your tummy, yet he never seemed affected, not until Lando came into view. Did he really only want your body and not more?

“What were you doing with him, y/n?”

Nothing but a moan left your mouth as he gently bit into your skin, sucking on your sweet spot as you subconsciously rubbed up against him. You didn’t even want to reply, you just wanted him to keep caressing your skin with his mouth. “Tell me what you were doing with Lando, huh, baby? What were you thinking?”

“Oscar I-“

“Keep talking or I’ll stop,” he whispered as he made his way down your back and then back up your shoulder, kissing and mouthing at every spot. Thankfully your best friend had convinced you to wear the backless top, you thought.

You huffed. This felt so humiliating, but you couldn’t keep going like this, not when he makes you feel like this and then leaves like nothing ever happened. You lived a lie and it was time to stop.

“I was trying to make you jealous so that you would finally stop and do something!”

Oscar’s furrowed his eyebrows and stopped in his tracks, hands still on you. What were you talking about The tension came crashing down onto your body once again, his doing not distracting you anymore. You seemed to want to have this conversation, and Oscar could easily put some of his lust away in moments like these. You didn’t get a reply, the cue for you to turn around and face him. You were still caged between him and the counter, his hands steady on either side of you now as he leaned down to look at you. you couldn’t focus like this, not with him so close to you and with the alcohol running through your body like blood. You looked up at him with doe eyes, prettily batting your lashes even if your mascara was slightly smudged already.

“Stop what? Talk to me, please. I didn’t like seeing you with him,” he looked concerned. Worried even, worried about what he might have done wrong. He wanted to be with you, keep you as his, so why would you want to stop being exactly that?

“Why don‘t you love me?“ You whispered, tears forming in your eyes. You hated it, but it was inevitable. The confrontation was overwhelming you anyway, and being under the influence managed to make it a lot worse. Your hands were all shaky and so was your every breath as you anticipated his reaction, expecting rejection but still hoping for more.

“I- What? Why would you think that?“

“Maybe because you literally said so?“

“Uhm, okay fair point. Listen y/n,“ he sighed, and you could practically hear your heartbeat throbbing inside your chest. He thought for a second, but didn‘t say a thing. Instead, he grabbed your face and kissed you like never before, he kissed you with more than just passion, he kissed you with love. his fingers wiped away a tear that had rolled down your face, kissing and holding you as gently as he could. “Don‘t cry on me, y/n, please don‘t,“ he begged as he now kissed down your cleavage, leaving lovebites on your collarbones. “Was just being stupid, didn‘t wanna hurt you baby, thought long distance is too hard,“ he said something, anything to make you understand that the only reason he didn’t confess was because he was scared of his life not being compatible with yours, and not because he didn’t love you.

You smiled into the kiss once he reached your lips again. You‘d have to talk about it more tomorrow morning after taking some aspirin, you knew, after all, that you‘d go back home with him. It wasn‘t enough to make it official, you weren‘t boyfriend and girlfriend, but you finally had the guarantee that he felt the same way, that he loved you just like you did him.

Oscar swore himself at that exact moment, when he felt you smiling while his lips were dancing against yours, that he would never make you feel so unloved again. It wasn’t his intention in the first place, but seeing your beautiful eyes filled with tears because of him made his heart shatter, and he never wants to see you like that again, not if he was the reason for your pain. And even though you did have to make him realize through making him jealous, you certainly didn’t have to make him fall in love with you.

Because he already was.

౨ৎ general taglist / sns taglist ::

@norrisdriver / @1655clean

[lunarmoves]

one of the things you’ll never get over is just how teasing the daycare attendant can be. 

whether it may be through pokes at how tiny you are in comparison to them, little flirts that set your face aflame yet are completely innocuous, or putting you in situations where you’re forced to rely on them, the daycare attendant seems to find delight in your many different reactions and emotions. you’re not quite sure why. but it has grown just the teensiest bit frustrating. you’ve done your best to try to retaliate and turn the tables on them, but none of your efforts seem to work on them like they do on you. they are, at times, very difficult to read—what with the static smile and all. not like a robot can blush, either. 

it’s gotten to the point where you’re willing to try anything—and after watching some parents greeting their kids at the door for pickup, you finally get an idea that you think might just work in your favor. so long as you pay extra close attention to their reactions. 

it’s finally after hours for the daycare; the last child had been picked up a few minutes ago. you and sun are wandering about, gathering up stray toys and crayons. you notice one of the small coloring tables has an unfortunate glob of glitter glue pasted to it and call out to sun to grab his attention. your eyes watch him like a hawk’s. 

“can you grab me a rag and some cleaning spray, baby?” it’s said as casually as you can make it. 

you have to bite your lip to suppress a smile when sun freezes in place for a moment, then spins his head around properly to look right at you. “i beg your pardon? what did you say?” 

you pinch at the side of your thigh to stop a smile from breaking out on your face and busy yourself with picking up more crayons. you know he heard you perfectly. robot hearing, and all. “i said can you grab me a rag and some cleaning spray. baby?” 

wide, white eyes stare at you for what feels like an eternity, then his rays do a delighted little spin. he straightens up and gives you a salute. “can do, friend! i'll be back in a jiffy!” 

you snicker to yourself at the enthusiasm in his voice. “thank you my love.” 

sun makes a sound—a strange sound you’ve not yet heard before—that you honestly can’t identify. a whirr of sorts, maybe. then he bounces off to the supply closet tucked in the corner of the daycare, where all the cleaning materials are stored. you pretend to bend down to grab another crayon, your eyes flicking up to follow sun's movement. once he disappears around a playset, you take a short, quiet moment to stuff your fist in your mouth and bite down a giggle. you manage to collect yourself right as he returns, your hands dumping the crayons you've collected into their designated bin.

"you're in a mood today!" sun says brightly as he hands you the spray bottle of cleaner and an old, blue rag. he sways animatedly from side to side and clasps his hands together in front of his chassis once his hands are free.

"i don't know what you're talking about," you reply as straight-faced as you can and crouch down next to the table, "honey," you add after a short second. you give the glob a few sprays of the cleaning solution, then start to diligently work away at it with the cloth. at least you have an excuse to turn your face away from his perceptive gaze.

sun's shadow looms over you. there's a clicking sound as his faceplate rotates. "i think you do, friend!"

"what," you snort and peer up at him from the corner of your eye, "you want me to stop?"

sun's head tilts farther to the side and his smile seems to get larger. "on the contrary, actually!"

you can't deny that his words make you flush slightly, so you turn back to the table to swipe your rag against it a final time. can't let him turn the tide on you like this. you're saved from responding to him when the daycare lights suddenly go out to signify closing, hoping against all hope that moon hadn't been paying attention.

those hopes get quickly dashed when you notice the table you'd finished cleaning has taken on a red glow, and long fingers abruptly grip onto your shoulders to tug you up and spin you around.

"what," moon hisses lowly at you, face close to your own as he stares directly at you with wide maroon eyes, "are you doing?"

"me?" you answer innocently, your hands holding the cloth up between the both of your chests as though in a feeble attempt at a defensive wall. the rest of the daycare is dark and it's only by moon's eyes and the dim light from the windows leading to the rest of the pizzaplex that you're able to see him. "i'm not doing anything, sweetheart."

"that," he emphasizes and gives you a little shake, "is not nothing. you're up to something."

"i promise i'm not buttercup," is your smooth reply. moon twitches slightly—his grip gets a teeny bit tighter. and there's something in the way he's holding himself that lets you know he's more affected by your words than he lets on. the corners of your mouth curl up slightly, but you force them back down to maintain your innocuous look.

moon only growls at you, voice rasping out a "troublemaker."

you stick your tongue out at him. "cutie pie."

"nuisance."

"darling."

"brat."

"snookums." your smile starts to creep back up your face when you notice he's slowly drawing closer in the heat of the little back and forth.

"little gremlin." his expression dares you to retaliate.

you choose not to respond right away, letting his last pet name hang in the air for a quiet, tense moment. your eyes stare directly into his own fuzzy ones and you take in a deep breath to prepare yourself for what you're about to say.

"kitten." you grin wildly when moon absolutely recoils and releases you from his grip. immediately, you latch onto the sound of his servos whirring in his chassis—a cooling system kicking into place. and that, you realize, is their form of blushing.

"oh?" your eyes squint upwards in delight as moon just looks at you with wide eyes, his hat low on his face so much so that you only see the lower halves of his optics. "embarrassed? my little kitten?"

"shut up!" moon hisses at you and it makes you finally break down into laughter at the irony. his hands twitch sporadically before he stills them. "pain in the neck! annoyance!"

"kitten! kitten kitten kit— WAJHSDKFJDF!" you shriek as you narrowly dodge a swipe from moon and immediately make a break for the door. he growls something rough at you in lighthearted jest, but you can't hear him over the sounds of your loud laughter and your pounding footsteps against the floor.

and as moon chases you out of the daycare—your little victory triumphantly stashed under your belt— the knowledge that they have a certain weakness for adoring pet names gets stored in a mischievous part of your brain for later.

[yazthebookish]

Lidia and Ruhn Bonus Chapter

Ruhn is down BAD for Lidia and I don't blame him.

She keeps her hair down now and wears casual clothes 🥹

He couldn't get enough of her. Even living together these past several weeks, working together most days in the Aux... he couldn't stop wanting her, needing her. It wasn't just her body, though. It was Lidia herself-her wit, her dry humor, her bravery and selflessness and compassion.

He's going to kill Flynn and Declan for interrupting his evening with Lidia.

Lidia pulled away, and for a moment, Ruhn let himself admire her. His mate. His brave, lovely, brilliant mate.

Stop being so damn sweet.

"There's, uh . . . a problem."

Ruhn gripped the phone so hard the plastic groaned.

"Is Rigelus back from the dead?"

"No."

"Then leave me the fuck alone." Ruhn hung up.

Don't be a cock block Flynn.

His phone rang again. Dec this time.

Ruhn growled deep in his throat and answered, "What."

"I really think you might want to check this out."

I love these two morons.

Lidia's hand stilled on the side of his neck. There was such love and joy and hope in her eyes that his breath stalled in his chest.

She smiled again, like she sensed that. She peered down at their linked hands. "I've been thinking that . .. I'd like to marry you."

Hnnnnnnghgghhh 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

She glared daggers at him. "Yes. I mean, we're mates, and I thought it might be—"

Ruhn kissed her deeply.

"I want to marry you," he said between kisses, nipping at her lips. "I want you to marry me. More than anything." She laughed again, and he swallowed the sound as he kissed her harder, deeper.

THEY ARE EVERYTHING!! They deserve to be happy after everything they've went through 😭

He was so busy trying to read her face that he didn't turn until she pointed into the garden. To where Flynn and Dec stood in suits, Bryce and Hunt grinning with them.

"Because I thought we'd get married right now."

Tears of joy ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

Ruhn watched his mate— his wife—talking with her sons. That quiet, radiant joy glimmered from her.

Mate and WIFE 😭

Ruhn pulled Lidia a few feet farther into the garden, night crocuses glowing a deep amethyst at their feet. "Lidia, I don't have words for what tonight was. Is. What it means to me."

Her soft smile was a thing of remarkable beauty. "I was so nervous you'd say no."

He soft smile was a thing of remarkable beauty. I AM GETTING FLASHBACKS OF A WHOLE DIFFERENT BONUS CHAPTER TOO 😭❤️

"Your sister. She told me that if I proposed to you, you'd cry like a baby and say yes." Lidia cocked her head. "Which you did."

He did indeed cry like a baby, which made me love him even more 🥹

"I never got to dance with you in the garden at the Autumnal Equinox. Consider this my way of apologizing for bailing on you."

Ruhn kissed her-gently, lightly. "You do owe me for that, I guess."

Her arms twined around his neck, and as her body lined up against his, as they fell into the melody, everything else faded away.

Janet if only I could hug you right now.

"'I'm grateful, too," Lidia said quietly. "For all of it, good and bad. Because it brought me to you. It brought us to this—to right now."

What a chapter 🥹❤️

[witchthewriter]

𝐇𝐨𝐭𝐃 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞

⤷ gender neutral, ambiguous race, and any size reader. Requests are open, thank you for reading!

a/n: minor spoilers, everyone is over the age of 18. Their names are linked with my fancast as well xx

Warnings: kidnapping, well more so mentions of kidnapping?

ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ        

𝑺𝑭𝑾🌿

𝐑𝐡𝐚𝐞𝐧𝐲𝐫𝐚

𝑻𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒆𝒔:

Confident & Flirty (Rhaenyra) x Has Never Been Flirted With Before, Thinks They're Just Being Nice (You)

・It was her father’s idea to cease the feud and move forward. To start fresh. 

・To have the both of you ... spend time together. 

・ You to visit King’s Landing and Rhaenyra to visit your home

・Rhaenyra was adamant that she was still able to choose her partner, so this is what Viserys came up with 

・Platonic, romantic, it didn’t matter what came out of the time together, just as long as things were learnt and traditions were honoured 

・Daemon wasn’t happy with this, but Rhaenyra...well she was fine with it

・Until she realised just how sheltered you grew up, and knew you weren’t going to be as wild as she

・There was a mutual understanding about your new “friendship”, that you both played along while everyone was watching but when their backs were turned, you acted as you pleased

・Both of you thought the other was weird in some way

・But with time, you... fell into platonic love

・Protecting the other from slanderous accusations as well

・You did each other’s hair, picked clothing for one another

・Opened up about your thoughts, your feelings - not just about this situation but about ... everything. The world and all its wonders, its evils. 

・Talking about your maesters and what you’ve been taught - how you’ve been taught, what your favourite things are/your special interests

・The absolute best thing that happened was riding Syrax though

・The dragon, a gorgeous burnt orange beauty, was hesitant for the first half an hour. 

・It was well known that Syrax was a tad ... moody

・The weather had to be right for her to go out flying

・So when you sat down on the sandy, dusty ground of the dragonpit and ...spoke to her, she was rather startled

        “...had a good sleep Syrax?” 

・You said it so casually

・Rhaenyra burst into laughter, but made sure you wouldn’ be able to hear her. She wasn’t expecting this interaction. Her fearsome dragon, crouching down to look you in the eye, her tail flicking back and forth. Like some sort of interested cat.

・But you continued on, not caring about the world around you

  “To be honest, I didn’t. I’ve been a bit nervous about today. And it’s completely okay if you don’t want to take me up.”

・But Syrax was more than happy to take you flying, in fact, she flew farther and longer than usual

・It was one of the best experiences you had ever had 

・And soon Rhaenyra’s romantic love followed

𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐰𝐢𝐧

𝑻𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒆𝒔:

Excited ALL. THE. TIME. (Harwin) X Oh God I Cannot Be Falling In Love With This Dipshit (You)

(think Jamie x Claire from Outlander)

・Harwin saw your family’s feud as kinda stupid. He isn’t the type of guy to hold grudges. 

・So when you came into court, with a scowl and a mean look in your eyes, he knew you were going to be fun

・He wouldn’t leave you alone 

・This hulk of a man, with a tinge of red on his cheeks would always find you during feasts and banquets - any reason for celebration, he would be right by your side

・You were fighting feelings inside of you every time Harwin was around

・The way he winked at you from across the hall, always asked for a dance during feasts (even when no one else was dancing), even when you were outside sitting on one of the benches; he would silently sit down beside you and bump his knee to yours 

・It was an internal fight every. single. time. 

・In the beginning you thought maybe he was just teasing you, trying to rile you up, get a rise out of you. Maybe even get you into his bed and then shame you 

・But Harwin was ... so different. To all the other men at court. Or that you’d met. Even different to your family; your brothers, your father. 

・You knew there was some sort of golden light, or ... good seed, inside him. You knew you could truly trust him

・And so you did

・You started to open up to Harwin; stopping the insults and cold exterior

・He didn’t even make fun of you for it - 

・For changing how you interacted with him. Because he knew something about you too. That you were different; like him. 

・You were thankful for that. There was something about opening up that was difficult for you. And having that grace was one of the reason’s why ... you loved Harwin

・There were times when Harwin’s father shook his head and sighed, knowing that your own father (who was the enforcer of the hatred toward the other) would explode if he found out 

・And one day he did

・But you knew exactly who you needed to go to. You knew exactly where to run

・Harwin’s arms were waiting for you, as soon as he saw your face he knew

𝐉𝐚𝐜𝐚𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐬

𝑻𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒆𝒔:

Menace To Society (You) x Living Moral Compass (Jace)

・You Confessed Your Love When Thinking He Was Unconscious. There was a lot of history between the two of you - not family related, but friendship related

・You were set to marry someone else and Jacaerys felt like his heart had shattered well and truly

・It was your wedding night, and right before you were going to say your vows, the enemy had hit 

・They took the wedding as the weakest moment to attack

・And the pillar that had crumbled atop Jace made you scream

・Running to him, nearly tripping over the rocks on the floor, you pushed everything that was on him to the side and started to cry 

・You sobbed and sobbed, while holding his body in your hands

・The blood running down his face, you used your clothes to clean him up

     “Don’t die on me, don’t you die on me Jacaerys Targaryen. I love you too much.” 

・Magic words

・Fated words actually

・Because it was destined that the two of you were to be together. Although no one but the stars and the ancestors knew

・Your fiance was shocked by your confession; disgusted, betrayed, but they understood. To some degree, they understood. 

・After the battle had been won, thanks to Daemon and Caraxes, Rhaenyra smiled at the memory. The way you so desperately needed Jace to live. 

・It wasn’t until Jace was in recovery, conscious and healing when Rhaenyra told him what you’d confessed. He had been completely out of it when you’d said those words. 

・Before he had woke, you’d visited him everyday. Bringing flowers, momentos, things you thought he’d like

・You sat and spoke to him, read to him

・But when he awoke, you couldn’t bear to see the look on his face. To look him in the eyes. 

・Rhaenyra had to practically drag you to see him

・Yet, when you did, you ran to each other and embraced so strongly that you nearly fell over

𝐀𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐭

𝑻𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒆𝒔:

Both Wary of Love & Don’t Think This Can Be Real

・Wary doesn’t describe how distant Alicent was with you

・She truly thought of you as an enemy. And when Alicent sees someone as such, well, the interaction is never pleasant

・Because when the two of you were together, something lit up

・It was a pull from both of you; magnetism, and it took everything not to take each other when you were alone 

・But your families had a firm disdain for each other. Which didn’t make sense for the Hightowers’ as they tried to get on with everybody

・And it wasn’t until you and Alicent kept up your interactions that your family were forced to confront their hatred

・You and Alicent continually went behind their backs because your curiosity outweighed your dislike

・Why did your families hate each other? Where did it start? Why can’t it stop?

・The usual obedient Alicent was heavily influenced by you. Who had a warriors heart - you were brave, braver than many family members who came before you

・And you built a bridge with Alicent. 

・Even if she didn’t want to, you were adamant that you could rectify the wrongs that had plagued your family for generations

・Because if you didn’t, then your family would crumble into nothing

・Alicent didn’t know this. That you had more motive than curiosity to build friendship

・And she did eventually find out the true meaning behind your interactions

・But instead of being angry, she shocked herself by being ... impressed

・You had a drive that she had seen. But that drive wasn’t to better yourself, but to keep your family alive

・She loved it. Ambition, but not for yourself. For the ones you loved. 

・And that’s why she went against her father’s wishes, and kept seeing you. 

・The two of you were practically super sleuthing as neither of your family members’ would tell the same version of events

・So digging up you went, searching for answers, interviewing family and trying not to be too suspicious

・And during this time, Alicent started to develop a crush on you. A hardcore crush on you... 

・Otto soon found out and banned you from seeing each other. 

・But one taste of rebellion and that’s all Alicent needed to go against her father’s wishes ... again

・After finding out what actually happened, you went to Alicent to show her your findings and when you explained what happened, she flung her arms around you and gave you a kiss

𝐃𝐚𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐧

𝑻𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒆𝒔:

Complete And Utter Badass, Rather Monstrous (Daemon) x Their Ray Of Light Who Has Them Wrapped Around Their Finger (You)

・Only someone as badass as you could grab Daemon’s attention and hold it (not that you cared much for it)

・He had seen you on the battle field, a bow and arrow in hand

・Taking down enemies left and right, and when you entered the battle, every strike ran true. There wasn’t a man alive whenever you swung your sword

・There was something so invigorating about seeing your body move in such violent and graceful ways 

・Daemon knew that no matter where you came from or who you were, you were going to be his 

・So it was a shock to find that you were on the opposing side of the battle

・You hated the Targaryens, namely Daemon who had inadvertedly taken your family from you

・But Daemon saw your abilities and knew he could make you into one of the best fighters there ever was 

・So he ... kidnapped you

・Only to explain why he thought you’d be one of the best warriors Westeros has ever seen

・Under his guidance of course

・It wasn’t until the third night that you accepted. He thought it was because of the ... benefits, that you had accepted. But no, it was because you secretly wanted to slaughter him and his entire family

・However, you played along. Under the gauise of wanting to expand your prospects. You had terms, and the main was that he was never to come near you with desire 

・All was going well; he taught you a lot. Not just about combat, but about yourself, the world and challenged what you thought you knew 

・Your family history wasn’t as straightforward as you had believed. And what more, was that the Targaryens barely had anything to do with your family’s downfall. 

・It had been your own kin who had slain one another

・Brother had turned on brother, and it left you with nothing but a fable 

・Daemon had given you this information because he knew you weren’t training just for the sake of glory. You had something planned and he needed you to know the truth before you took action

・It was difficult to deny your feelings growing for Daemon, whose personality seemed to mesh with yours so well, that even Viserys saw a difference in him

・It was astonishing to see what a focused Daemon could do, and the worries that Viserys had were gone, when he saw how far you’d come

・You became a beacon for Daemon; someone he could go to not to talk, but to train. To let off steam, to go on adventures with (under the pretense off “teaching” you something)

・Caraxes became very familiar with you, and would actively seek you out as well, as he was so disliked amongst the other dragons, that companionship was sparse

・The bond between both beings meant that you often forgot your hatred, which had lessened with each day 

・You soon saw Daemon as a companion, a friend; someone who saw all of you and didn’t shy away. He saw all your darkness, your rage, your violence, chaos, confusion. Everything. He saw everything. 

・And he didn’t shy away

・What brought you together was that you reciprocated this

・You saw Daemon’s violence and didn’t blink an eye (NEVER towards you though)

𝐇𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐧𝐚

𝑻𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒆𝒔:

Always Bringing Them Rocks They Think They Would Like x Keeps The Rocks

・Your grandfather had a long lasting hatred for the Targaryens. It was personal, but it kept your family at a distance 

・But your fascination with the Targaryens was always prevalent throughout your childhood

・And whenever you brought them up, your family would shush you. Telling you that you aren’t supposed to ask anything about them

・But it wasn’t until after your grandfather’s death that your family was invited to court by Viserys

・As it turns out, Viserys had been sending invitations for years but your grandfather was declining every single one

・And when your family finally accepted, Viserys ordered there to be a huge feast awaiting for your arrival

・You weren’t expecting this, but your eager eyes were looking for something in particular. 

・But you didn’t expect that certain thing to be kept chained in a pit 

・When you were in the throne room, being introduced to Viserys’ children, the news about the dragons was disappointing

・And a young Targaryen woman shared that same disappointment 

・Around the same age as you, the two of you would have quickly been pushed together. To get to know each other, but both your families knew how ... peculiar you both were, and were adamant that the two of you should be left apart. Since they were scared their offspring would say or do the wrong thing 

・But somehow you bumped into each other in the castle halls, and in the garden, and somehow ... in the dragonpit 

・Soon you came to know Heleana. Both her physical and emotional quirks

・ And gods, Heleana was one of the sweetest people you have ever met. She wasn’t like the rest of the people you had come across. 

・She understood how your brain worked and you understood hers

・The white-haired woman’s love for you came about because you actually listened to her. You always wanted to know what she thought, what she felt. 

・You actively asked her about her visions, and you believed her. 

𝐀𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐝

(𝒔𝒍𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕𝒍𝒚 𝒏𝒔𝒇𝒘)

𝑻𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒆𝒔:

Tough on the Outside, Soft on the Inside (Aemond) x The Top (You)

・Aemond was never the type of person to go against his family’s wishes - especially his mother’s. 

・So when he found you underneath his bed, waiting to attack, he found it quite amusing. 

    “Your name, what is it?” He had snarled, still in his night clothes. 

“My name is of no importance to a dead man.”

   “I see no dead men here.”

・And then somehow he had you pinned on the floor, knife at your throat and white hair like a curtain. All you could see was Aemond’s face; pink tight-lips, pale face, his one good blue eye and his other eye socket was empty, his sapphire orb lay on his bedside table. 

・Your body reacted in a way you did not wish it to 

・You blushed

    “Big bad assassin,” Aemond whispered, the cold blade still pressed against your throat. You could feel his weight and as you started to whisper back, you used it to your advantage. 

・Moving your legs so they were around his waist, you stunned him with a kiss and in one fluid moment, you flipped him over and pinned his arms above his head

    “Remember,” you panted, “I’m always on top.” 

・It was then that Aemond realised he was in trouble

・Because your blade didn’t slice, nor did it cut. It clattered to the side as you got up and left 

・The next day your House was introduced to court and Aemond did everything he could not to react

・You were the direct heir to your House, and when you spotted Aemond in the Throne room, all you could do was smirk. He had no idea. No idea that you were now going to live in King’s Landing - in the castle itself

・Those months were excruciating for Aemond, not just because he thought you were going to kill him at any moment, but because you acted as if he was nothing at all. Nothing more than a Prince. 

・You bowed when you walked passed him, stood when he entered a room

・It became a common occurence for Aemond to look under the bed. To see if his little nightmare was real

・And all the while, you watched from afar, a delighted smile on your face

・It took 6 months of Aemond to make his move. It had to be well thought out of course

・He couldn’t just try anything. No. It needed to be the perfect plan, one that would both out and villainise you

・But again, unbeknownst to the One Eyed Prince, you were three steps ahead

・He hated you; he loved this game even though he tried to hide it and in turn ... he ... loved ... you

・It was a horrible realisation. One that Aegon, of all people, pointed out to him

・And Aemond avoided you (yes, like the plague)

・It took two weeks, that’s all he could bare - of not looking at you, not hearing your voice, your laugh 

・And when he went to leave his chambers to seek you out, you were already at his door...

𝐃𝐚𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐧

𝑻𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒆𝒔:

Arranged Marriage

・He had been sent to Oldtown and had no idea that you would be there too

・Otto had arranged your marriage; your father agreeing to it only under the circumstances of equal opportunity

・You were emblazed with anger

・And on your wedding day, you had screamed and cried and fought until it was time to walk down the aisle 

・Your father explained how important this marriage was. This alliance would bring safety to your House, and it was in that moment that you knew what you had to do

・You had never seen Daeron before, but heard of the story of how he got his name, “The Daring.”

・And the fact that it was nationally know that he was the most likeable out of the Targaryen brothers... 

・You knew your father had bargained for him rather than Aemond, who was harsh and unforgiving 

・Daeron stood at the end of the aisle, a charming smile on his boyish face. 

・ I can do this, you thought triumphantly, I can, I will. 

・When the ceremony was over and the reception was done, you were escorted to your marriage bed with Daeron, who had made every effort to make you feel comfortable 

・While alone together, in your shared room, with the fire blazing, Daeron’s kind smile did not change. There was no flip of personality or loss of kindness. 

・You soon realised that what you saw in Daeron is what is truly there 

・And you felt safe with him

・Which made it even harder to hate him. 

・With each insult you slung his way, he seemed to side step it

・And when you realised that the Prince wasn’t going to hurt you, or take you away from your family or traditions...things started to change for you. You saw him as he is. Golden hearted. 

・Life with Daeron is full of sunshine, blue skies and love

・Meeting Tessarion was a big experience and one that you will never forget. 

・Through the bond she knew your relationship with Daeron, and was apprehensive about you but allowed you to clamber onto her anyway. 

・Considering she was one of the younger dragons, she had incredible speed and stamina. 

・That ride bonded all three of you. Making you feel closer to Daeron, wanting him...the seed of desire had started to grow

[cosmic-ghost-hermit]

HAPPY PRIDE MONTH!!! 🏳️‍⚧️🏳️‍🌈 To celebrate here is a romantic relationship reading for yall! Be aware that these are read with queer people in mind. ALSO THIS IS AN 18+ READING. If you are younger than 18 please do not interact. THANK YOU. Love is love baby and I will not tolerate hatred here. Take what resonates and leave the rest behind, my friends. ❤️🧡💛💚💙💜🖤🤎🤍🩵🩷

PILE 1

Crystal: Green Aventurine

Astrology: Cancer, Leo, Capricorn

Character: Keroppi

Song: Red Wine Supernova by Chappel Roan/ SUNRISE by MICHELLE

Vibes: 💚❤️🍷🧝👒🪖🍒🐸🥀🍄🍏🍉🍑🐛🪲🐢🐍🍎🦖🦎🪴🥊🚗🌴🎍🍀🍃🎋🪷🍓🌶️🍝🥒🥑🥬🫑🥦🫛🌹🥗🧃

Ribbit! Hiiiii pile one <3 I see you really think this person is cool. You have so much fun with them. The most fun you have had with someone in a while. The seggs is absolutely amazing with them. They can go hard and long just like you like it. They like to try new stuff with you too. New toys and new positions are brought up everytime you guys get together. I also see they are excellent dirty-talker. You are starstruck by him. This connection is awesome but I think it might be a shorter connection than you like. They want intimacy with you and they want to be your friend. From your perspective you think they want more than that. Make sure you are on the same page with this person on what they want and make sure that what you want matches with them. When I say that I mean really honestly on the same page. You can’t change yourself for them. Don’t ignore your feelings just to make them happy. You might need more romance than they can offer. If they can’t provide the romance or reliability you need then the connection you have with him doesn’t have to be severed but it does need reevaluation. Just understand it won’t go any farther than friends with benefits. Don’t ask him to change either. Both of you deserve love in the ways you need it. He needs less romance than you do but that doesn’t make your needs less important. You can always stay friends or keep a friends-with-benefits thing going until you find a partner that can give you the romantic energy you need. I do see them being weirdly jealous sometimes though. That is not them telling you they have feelings for you. They're just territorial about who they fuck with. They have very animalistic energy. Which is why I implore you to have conversations about how you both feel regularly just to make sure yall stay on the same page. I wish you luck on your sexellent sexapades, my friend. 💙🩵🤍💚💙

PILE 2

Crystal: Carnelian

Astrology: Sagittarius, Pisces

Character: Hello Kitty

Song: I Won’t Say (I’m in Love) by Disney / Rocket Ship by Nep

Vibes: 🦑🦞🦊🐞🍁🔥☄️🍑🍊🍅🥕🥧🌭🍕🏀🏈⛹🏽‍♀️🥉🚀⛺️🏺🧱🧡💛💥🥻🧑‍🦰🎃🥵🤯📳📙💊🏮🌇⛱️⛵️

Hello, kitty! Welcome to your reading pile two. You are waiting on this person. They are getting their head figured out. I see they are in therapy. They do have feelings for you right now buuut they just don’t realize it yet. Once they realize it though. Oh. My. Goodness. It will be MAGICAL. Ya just gotta be patient with them okay? I see you are extremely practical so you probably aren’t the type to sleep around or keep things casual. You want a future with this person. I see some of ya’ll reading have been in a relationship with this person for a while but they haven’t really been taking it seriously. Some of you have just been texting with this person and are unofficial. Don’t worry. Let them take the time they need to figure out their feelings. I see you both have a lot of feminine energy and remember feminine energy is still, so it might take your future spouse some time to figure out how much you make them happy. They don’t seem very intune with their feelings lmao. Once you are official? You will be ICONIC. People might be jealous of what you will have with them so it is so worth the wait, my friend. You’ll have matching everything by the way. You might already do that by accident with them. Matching clothes, matching shoes, matching tattoos, matching bags, matching water bottles like it is going to be pinterest worthy relationship goals. You might also say a lot of stuff at the same time by accident too. Wow. Yall are so cool I can’t stand it. I hope they figure out their feelings for you soon so you can get to slaying. ❤️🧡🤍💗🩷

PILE 3

Crystal: Angelite

Astrology: Aquarius, Scorpio

Character: Cinnamoroll

Song: Poison by Sam Haft

Vibes: 🩵🥺🩷😇💛🖤🎀✏️💎🚬😭🧠⛓️🧞‍♀️💑🧳✈️🥃🍯🛼🧊😱❄️🕳️💣⛈️🪷🦩🦋🪱🤡🐝🩱👻⚔️👑👛👚😰🔭🪬🧿

Bark Bark!! Hello, pile threee! Gonna be for real for a sec. You are kind of a mess and this reading is pretty hard to hear. I see you are stuck in a relationship with someone. Luckily this reading isn’t about that partner. They can go suck eggs for all I care. They turned you into this mess. You apologize to them when they hurt YOUR feelings. That’s ick. Why do they gotta make you do that, huh? They make you pretend to be someone you arent! Anywho you should leave them. Like seriously leave them. I know it’s scary! I PROMISE DUDE. I know from personal experience. Leave. As soon as you leave. This new person will come in after a couple months. You might thiiink the person you’re with right now is your twin flame. That is not true dude. There is this term called a false twin flame. I had to go through that whole process too. It is not fun. The reason you are going through this is because you canNOT stick around this ASSHOLE just because you are afraid of being alone! Cutting off the dead rose will allow another rose to bloom. You have tried to fix the mess of a partner you are with. It hasn’t worked. You can’t make someone better who doesn’t want to be better. Yeah I said it! They don’t want to get better! That's why they refuse to do therapy. That's why they won’t change for you. I learned this a while ago. Some people just like to hurt. They like to be the victim. However, there is good news. You can leave. Take your power back and you will be rewarded with the rainbow after the storm. You are an angel and you deserve another angel. You will get one, sweetpea. The nicest angel they have. When you meet them you will know it is them because they will be wearing SO much BLUE. They're a hopeless romantic just like you, hun. They’ll worship you and the ground you walk on. So much you won’t know what to do. You might cry when you realize they aren’t gonna hurt you the way you are currently being hurt. Baby, I’m really begging you to trust the universe will send you the best reward for doing right by you. I know you can do it. You are so much more than how your current person makes you feel. 🩷💛🩵/🖤💛🤍💜

PILE 4

Crystal: Iolite

Astrology: Aries, Taurus, Libra

Character: Kuromi

Song: Super Graphic Ultra Modern Girl by Chappel Roan/ Short Skirt-Long Jacket by Jet

Vibes: 💜🖤☕️💛🔮🧬🎆🎼🎹♟️📒🏵️🔌🥇🍆💻🍇🍙🐈‍⬛🦮🕷️🕶️👽👾😈🔪🦹💅🏽👯🗝️✒️💣

>:3 HI, PILE FOUR! I have the best news my friend! THIS READING IS SO INTERSTELLAR! The emperor and the empress ruling together! The emperor in this reading is a lil scared though. Understandable to be honest. He has been burned real bad in the past. He doesn’t have to worry anymore. All the painful relationships are behind him. He can relax into this connection. The empress is this reading is loyal, fair and very protective. When I say fair I do mean both definitions. She is Just and also drop dead gorgeous. She might be kind of scary at times but she loves the emperor and would beat up anyone who messed with him. She wears a lot of alternative fashion. She seems goth to me but it could also be punk rock or emo. She likes to garden and she has a cat. I imagine the cat's name is “shadow” or something? I see the emperor wearing alternative fashion as well but softer styles like cottagecore or clowncore. He is also quite stubborn. He is so headstrong about stuff because he had been a pushover for a long time and now he refuses to be pushed around. I dunno if they're both trans but since it's pride month I’m gonna say they're both transgender. 🏳️‍⚧️ I see you meeting the other in a park or bumping into each other at pride. There is nothing to fear with this connection. It is balanced, loving and you motivate each other deeply to go after what you both desire most. OH ALSO your seggs life will be AMAAAAAZING cus you are both switches. You also both listen to each other's needs when in the bedroom. I am so happy for the both of you. You deserve each other. 🩵🩷🤍🩷🩵

PILE 5

Crystal: Citrine

Astrology: Gemini, Virgo, Sagittarius

Character: My Melody

Song: Too Sweet by Hozier

Vibes: 💝😜🙀👄💑👙⚜️🔐👛👑🐱🐙🌷🌸🔔🌼💐☀️🍌🍉🎟️🥎🩰💰⚱️🔑🎊🎀🛍️📣🐌

:3c Hi pile 5! Welcome to this reading! When I was pulling cards for today's reading I very much decided to do a fifth pile last minute. Which leads me to believe you don't see the love interest as a possibility right now. You think they are out of your league and you are trying soooo hard not to pine over them. I'm going to try to give you a clue of who this is because I see it being kind of hard for you to accept it when you figure it out. I hear you saying “Noooooo it couldn’t be them!” and yet they still linger on your mind. You think about them a lot. They are quite stoic and don’t really wear their emotions on their sleeves. This is the opposite of you. You refer to them as your Moon to your Sun. They could be any water sign (cancer, pisces, scorpio). They like to wear patterned clothes with really small patterns. You can't quite tell what they are until you get up close. This might be on purpose cus they like it when you are close to them hehe. From your perspective they seem really responsible and well off. Sometimes you compare yourself to them and it makes you feel like you aren’t doing stuff right. I promise you are doing things right by the way. You just have more on your plate than your future partner does. I see you have a lot of trauma you have been working through on top of the regular everyday stuff. When you are with them you feel complete and whole. They fill in the spaces that you struggle keeping balanced on your own. I see you playing video games or board games together. So cute ^w^! However I see they probably are in a situationship right now. Someone is leading them on and they have been for a while. Someone kind of corvid like keeps them occupied and it’s been harder and harder to see them as often as you used to. That situationship won’t last. If you want to intervene on it, I see that is a possibility that might help you get closer with them. Ask them about their love life and be curious. Just remember to play the long game when approaching them about this corvid-like person. The corvid is playing the short game. Slow and steady wins the race. 🩷💜💙

[glaciertea]

Masterlist here~

Tales the Songs Weave

Ch.4<< >>Ch.6

Notes: He's only visiting to just check in to make sure you're not doing anything suspicious.

Also plz forgive my horrid Spanish, I failed it in high school (and still fail at it in life), and that good ol' English to Mexican-Spanish translation will be showing. But, I will be happy to have any advice/corrections.

Chapter 5: I'm No Good Without You

Word count: 2.3K

You scrambled around the living room, triple-checking if everything was in proper order. “Snacks, check, records, and record player? Check, check! Decently clean apartment?”

You scoured the place as it was virtually cluttered, yet with a satisfactory, homey sort of approach. “Check! Comfy clothes? Checkity check. I'm ready for tonight!”

Peering at the clock on the TV, it was nearly ten. Seven minutes away, to be exact. A perfect stretch to do another rapid once-over before he arrives. Then a knock screeches you to a full stop.

You twisted your head toward the TV and then over the door. He's ahead of schedule, but you were struck by his punctuality. Dusting your stretchy checkered pants, you skipped over and opened it.

“Oh, you look really nice.” You smiled, bending one knee to the next.

Miguel loomed over, wearing comfy jeans, a tight-fitted red shirt, and a black jacket to pull it together.

“Thank you, and you look lovely too.” Miguel stiffly strolled in and removed his casual dress shoes, propping them on a wooden shoe rack.

“Thanks, but this is more of my chill style, if you catch my drift. But come on, things are about the same as the last time you were here.”

Fiddling with some lint in your pocket, you clumsily shuffled past him and gestured towards the couch.

Taking a spot on the left side, his back refused to recline into the cushions, his face flashing that frigid hold.

You both were strained. Besides concealing behind screens and exchanging messages, being face-to-face was a new notion for you two. Especially with the previous incident involving him unintentionally sleeping over due to fortuitous drug consumption.

Then, in a well-endowed chat that descended into him frantically striding over your place, there certainly wasn't any affable history within reach.

“Did you have trouble finding your way around? Hungry?” Your mind rushed back to that morning. That polar atmosphere slithered its way right into the air, hovering.

“A pretty easy find. I remembered the route. Not specifying that I made a point to recall, the landscapes were familiar to me.” Miguel's strain refused to fade. “And I'm good, thank you.”

“No, no! I understand. My complex can be simple to spot. Especially with those overly deflated balloons they seem to not want to remove.”

You placed a veggie platter, water bottles, and some cut-up mini sandwiches on the coffee table just in case. 

“You noticed how there's some that have more float to them than others? Sometimes the people here like to tie some next to the floppy ones. I'm guilty of it too; I can't lie.” You chuckled, settling on the farther right of him, that middle gap in between. 

“Yeah, I noticed. I was going to ask you about that. Is it a sort of tradition in this community?”

“In a way. It's more of a ‘hey, I should do this because it's spontaneous and silly, and it's not hurting anyone.’ I try to make it a habit to clean up the ones that do find their way to the ground and toss them.”

Miguel gave a quick nod of understanding. Then instantly, that dead silence returned. Miguel's massive uneasiness fixed on his shoulders.

This was a bad idea. He should have declined the invite.

Abandoning his work? This was arbitrarily gut-speak. This moment, his gut somehow clambered through, striking any common sense inhabiting it.

You purse your lips into a thin line. You deduced his body language. It seemed like a good idea to have him over. You spoke pretty well when he allowed his guard to falter, and even your texts sparked volumes of personality. 

Those constraints he has strangled around are vastly keeping him from having a decent time.

“Would you like to look at the albums? They're in pretty tip-top shape after so many years.”

Before he could reply, you hobbled towards the shelf, grabbed them, and made your way back over. Gently sticking them on his lap, you decided to occupy the middle cushion.

Miguel glared at the records for a few seconds, seemingly fretting whether to even handle them.

“Hey, these are for you, remember? Go ahead; I'm sure you'll be careful with them.”

Your eyes met, and a diligent smile crossed your face as you gently patted his shoulder. He was certainly strung out, evident in his overly compressed muscles.

He turned his attention to the music, concealing the shaking anxiety that was battering him internally. Gleaning the Selena album in his unsheathed clawed hands, he flipped it back and forth.

“She has a very beautiful voice. I heard a few of her songs, but I'm willing to delve into more.”

He pulled the sleeve off the record, delicately removing it, his eyes glossing over with memories.

“My mother played her music every Saturday. I remember waking up to the sounds of clattering in the kitchen as she sang along.”

“Did she have a favorite?”

Miguel huffed out a noise that almost sounded like laughter. “Nunca hubo ninguno. All of them were her favorites. Whenever someone asked, she would pull this most offended face, cursing about how dare they make her choose only one.”

You snickered at that before grasping the record, heeding the fragile object. Sprinting over, you inserted it on the turntable, placing the needle on it. 

You refused to allow the silence to triumph between you two.

Selena's voice unrolled effortlessly through every corner of the apartment as you bumbled your way to your respective seat.

“I may have done some peeking into the tracks.”

“Oh?” Miguel finally managed to scoot back on the couch, though he was still a bit on alert.

“Just to make sure they weren't scratched. Tippity top shape, as stated previously.” You displayed the ‘okay’ gesture.

“Well, that's really good to hear. I don't want them messing up on me.”

“Don't worry, I got you! I would never bestow any materials that will fall from grace!” You dramatically slapped your hands over your heart, head propped high as if reciting some melodrama poetry.

Miguel returned it with a lopsided smile. “I'm trusting you did well.”

“My efforts haven't gone unnoticed! But what made you pick those three artists? Well, I can guess with the Selena one.” You huffed, swinging your legs on the couch, crossing them, elbows on your knees, and giving all your undivided attention to him.

“Just the first three that popped into my head. Well, besides Miss Selena,” he nonchalantly waved his hand. “I picked something that I think you may also appreciate.”

Miguel only spoke half the truth. He rehearsed lines and answers that he suspected you would pose on the venture here.

The full reason? He wished to share all of the music that he personally grew up with. To watch your reactions up close and in person.

And that's what was unnerving him. The uncertainty of this non-disclosure, undistinguished bond.

“Aw! How sweet of you! I personally know some Santana, and didn't Jorge Ben sing Mas Qué Nada?”

“Si. Considered a classic by many.”

“Ah-ha, I knew it!” You shimmied at your correct response.

You and Miguel didn't register how much time passed as a third of the veggies were eaten, and so were half of the sandwiches.

Your arm was perched on the sofa head as you shifted into your tunes, chilling to the fifth album you put on. Miguel rested his back fully into the comfy cushion, unwinding as his concentration was now focused on you. 

“Espere, Espere, hold on. They tried to do what?” Miguel chuckled.

“Yes, they tried to bargain a bicycle without the handle bars, the wheels, and the seat! Even the bell was missing, but the ringer managed to cling on for dear life.”

“So, what did you all do?”

“My boss Ronnie was ready to tear them a new one, but I managed to calm her. I negotiated with them, telling them if they can take apart all the pieces, then we'll find better uses for them.”

You dipped a carrot stick in the ranch. 

“So they did, and we managed to reach a compromise. We got rusty bicycle parts, and they were about fifty bucks. But here's the kicker.”

Miguel leaned in, oddly invested.

“Apparently, a piece from the bike was valued at seven thousand dollars. I can't recall which part, but I remember Ronnie freaking out. Now, she tried to hoard all the cash for the store, but I had her call the people who gave us the bike to get a cut from it.”

You placed your balled hand on the side of your cheek. “They turned that fifty into three thousand. I swore I could see the angels floating down as ‘Hallelujah’ sang from the heavens when they received that money!”

You spread your arms toward the sky as you both heartily laughed.

Miguel couldn't remember the last time he'd been so content. This is loose around somebody else.

Well, besides Gabriella, of course.

His eyes directly sank as his muscles began to taut from the crushing waves of paranoia, of the memories, and of the cruelty he faces.

“Hey, Miguel, are you okay?”

You warily made light feather touches with your fingertips on his upper arm, your eyes creasing with dismay at the instant change of behavior from him. He was a bit jostled. He whipped his head towards you, his extreme disorientation and attentiveness written all over his face.

That look. That concerned, considerate expression you showed.

“Why? Why?” That quivering dread in his voice, that sneaking dubiety of this situation.

“W-why?”

Just like the first time. The uncertainty of it all. Miguel despised it, but straying away wasn't an option for him.

“Why are you doing this? Why are you not…”

His heart raced, competing with his mind. His leg bounced in rapid spurts as he fought to retain composure. 

You held that docile, warming gaze.

“Why did you agree to have me over? Why did you invite me?” He calmly asked.

His voice deceived what his body and mind were truly undergoing. Purposely hiding that pang of bitterness. Of anxiety.

Stunned, you blink your eyes a few times.

“Oh! Well, I genuinely wanted to hang out with you. You are a good person, and I'd like to think I have some decency in picking up characteristics. Even though judging is wrong, I'm sure you understand what I mean.”

You drifted your right hand over his shaky knee, keeping it there until you were given any permission to put it there. Miguel studied your motion before reluctantly slowing down. You inched your way until your palm was settled on top.

“Miguel, do… Do you not receive many requests to hang out outside of your work? Does anyone ever check in just to check in?”

“I don't—no. Not really. I'm the leader. I'm not allowed to just go wherever I want.”

You nodded, whispering a faint okay underneath your breath as your hand rubbed his knee.

“So you're putting yourself on this level higher than others, that because you oversee everything, you're not allowed to do things normally many do.”

Miguel kept quiet as his eyes followed your fingers.

“But that isn't the case. You did choose to be here with me. You had to talk with someone to take a bit of a break to come here, right?”

His heavy brows lowered into a vacant, thinking stare.

“Huh. I-I guess I did do that.” His shoulders slumped.

“Mhm, and you've been here for nearly, um.” You peered at your phone, then back at him, “nearly two hours. Are you at least having a nice time? Am I being a decent hostess?”

A goofy grin plastered on you as he couldn't help but twitch his lips as they curled up.

“I mean, I think you're an alright hostess.”

“Hey, you're getting three albums from me! And you had some veggies and sandwiches, so I believe that warrants a push-up in the grading department.” You nudged him as he rolled his eyes, snorting at you.

“Alright, alright, you're absolutely correct. Hiciste un hospedaje increíble y un gran trabajo con todo. Llamaré a esto un éxito.”

You scrunch your face as you take a crack at figuring out what he said.

“I didn't even take Spanish; I took French. Uh, I heard the word incredible in there, so that's sufficient enough for me.”

Miguel momentarily eased up, that smile never fading. “Thank you for this pleasant night, missus.”

“Hey! None of that. Or I'll revert to calling you Mr. Miguel.” You poked at his muscular arm.

“Usually I can't stand that, but hearing it from you will be a very nice change of pace.”

You stuttered at that, briskly setting your hands between your thighs.

“So you can be smooth.” You muttered to yourself.

“Hm, what was that?”

“Oh nothing. Just saying how smooth this track is.” You motion at nothing in particular.

Miguel smirked impishly, highly aware of what was said. “So are you calling me the song?”

You whined, burying a pillow in your face, mortified that he clearly caught what you said as he sweetly taunted you about it.

One of the daunting strings snapped. 

One of the many strings imprisoning him from his own faith lies bleak.

Nearly one in the morning, with the three albums cradling in his forearm, Miguel took deliberate, meticulous strides back to the base. The nipping, chilled wind felt nice. Body warmer than when he arrived.

His mind went back to you. The goodbyes and courteous ‘thank yous,’ ‘we should do this again,’ chimed all over.

How that handshake turned into a comforting hug. For you, it was a friendly gesture; however, to him? To him, it was more.

He still sought to combat the sentiments resounding inside, but for this moment, for this period, he spared them. For this night and night only, those qualms can stay motionless. Tattered away in a distant, barren field.

Because of this night, the flame gathered the twinge of a single burning droplet.

[the-possum-writes]

Hey hun! I fricken love Adventure and its so hard to find fics of it but your blog is great! Could you do a Finn x reader where its just our boy being super affectionate and playful he chases the reader and then tickles them, gives lots of smooches and just lots of fluff? Thanks!

Call me sunshine

❥Character: Finn Mertens

❥Tags: Fluff, SFW, playful banter, Gn!reader

❥Synopsis:

After spending weeks digging through underground tunnels, both you and Finn coincidentally resurface near a flower hill.

❥Taglist: @watchingfromthefloorboards

With only dirt and rocks in the way, you and your buddy had to spend several hours using pickaxes and shovels to break through the obstruction. Eventually, the soil began to soften, making the task simpler for you both.

"How much longer till we leave this place? It feels like we've been digging nonstop for days."

The map crinkles beneath your calloused hands, which are covered in fabric bandages, clearing the dust so you can see your math equations in the corner. "It should be a few feet away; once the ground turns to sand, we're good."

"Do you mean this?"Finn switched to a shovel to remove the few rocks that were intertwined with streams of gray sand and seashells. The dust filling the cave became so overwhelming that you raised the bandana on your neck to your lower jaw, stuffing the map in your pocket in order to help Finn before he gets buried alive. Once the sand broke away into a hole on the cieling the two of you are showered in natural sunlight that burns your pupils like lemon juice on an open wound.

Finn burst into a cheery laugh. "I never knew I'd be so happy to get blinded by the sun." he rubs his eyes a few times before getting used to the exterior, stretching and arm out to help you climb out of the hole.

"I'm not in a rush to go blind but I'm glad we got out of those caves, it was starting to feel claustrophobic." you tug the cloth from your face, feeling like its suffocating you now that it isn't necessary. While you drop down on the sand dunes soaking up in the sun, Finn started jogging downhill to probably stretch his legs or something. After spending weeks underground you regret taking the sun for granted, relishing the warmth it lays over your dirt ridden skin, listening closely to the seagulls and the nearby shore like a natural lullaby. You could've easily taken a nap right there if it wasn't for a shadow blocking the light from your face, opening your eyes to a drenched young man in front of you.

In the few minutes you laid down Finn had already ditched his clothes and his caving gear and ran off to dip in the oceanside without you.

"What's up with you?" Finn asked, with his hands on his waist eyeing you like an oddity that washed ashore.

You scrunched up your nose when a few droplets landed on your heated skin.  "Me? What's up with you?" you retort.

He squeezes the water out of his wild medium length hair. "I needed a dip after getting all dusty in there, you should try it!"

You scrunch your nose a second time and casually rest your arms behind your head. "Thanks but no thanks, I'll take a hot shower when I get home."

Finn laughs, pinching his nose. "You're gross, why wait for a shower when you got a giant bath out here." he waves a hand where the ocean is.

"No way, fish pee in there." you say jokingly while sticking your tongue out.

"So what? I pee in the shower too." Finn responds almost immediately, with you taunting him with gaging noises.

"That's even worse!"

"Come'on, if I can't take you willing then I'll have to dunk you in myself!" Having enough of your tomfoolery, Finn playfully tries to grab hold of you.

"Heck nah! Get away from me ya seadog!" you immediately scramble to your feet and take off running with Finn chasing right behind your tail like a starving animal. The sand kicks up with every step you take, slows you down a bit as you run uphill, but the scenery changes the farther you run, with patches of grass becoming more common and colorful. Eventually you reach the top of the sand dune with a heaving chest, seemingly forgetting why you were in a hurry when your eyesight was blessed with grassy meadows and soft flowers swaying peacefully in the breeze, after growing used to dark browns and grays caverns its easy to be captured by such an cheery display.

"Gotcha!" Finn catches up to you by wrapping his arms around your midsection and promptly sent you down the grassy hill with him. There's leafs and petals flying everywhere as your vision blurs like a carousel with the ground replacing where the ground should be over and over again, the only thing keeping your limbs together is Finn holding you tight, eventually landing at the bottom of the hill with an "Oomph!" as flowers crumble under the two of you. "Bleh!" you spit out the petals that got into your mouth. All the while Finn is contently laughing to himself even though he's trapped under you, it's tempting to spew some colorful words at him but you're unable to stay mad at him because his laugh is that contagious.

"...I guess I could use that ocean bath now." you admit in defeat.

Finn out stretches his arms to you embrace you in a smooch, you pull back slowly to repeat the kiss but it got interrupted by the flower petal that got in your mouth, causing Finn to blow a raspberry. "Bleh." he pouts and this time you're the one laughing.

[rayshippouuchiha]

Okay. So you and one other person said they liked it and that's apparently enough for me to share. Now there's around 800 words instead of 200

So, have this tidbit of "Gotham's friendly neighborhood assassin"

It had been a quiet night. It was cold and humid out, fairly unpleasant. There was fog cloaking the tops of the buildings, and silence clung to the dark corners. It made for a quiet patrol, any suspicious sound carrying far. It had seemed like a good night to give Robin a bit more freedom, let him roam without Batman hovering over his shoulder.

It had been a mistake. Robin had been rushed by enemies while he was too far from him to give him immediate aid. His kid had had to run, getting farther and farther out. It’s been at least ten minutes since then and he has lost communication (Unacceptable. He’ll need to fix whatever caused the malfunction. Later) so he’s had to track his kid the old fashioned way. He follows the trail to an abandoned building. There's a few unconscious men laying about. Robin is ahead, having been forced down this hallway. Past that door.

There are no sounds of struggle coming from the other side, but that's not necessarily good. He moves carefully. Silent. Opens the door as quietly as he can, tries to see what’s happening without alerting anyone to his presence

Then he has to stop. Reassess.

Relief wars with confusion at what he sees.

All the henchmen lie on the floor, unconscious. All but one.

Robin is standing on his own two feet, keeping still of his own free will. There's a bundle of steel needles in his hands, long and sharp and sturdy, and a look in his eyes that he gets when he intends to learn as fast as you can teach him.

There is a man standing beside him. Dressed in casual clothes, except for the lower half of his face hidden under a simple surgical mask. Tall and broad and pale. Black haired. Unknown. The last conscious goon is in the man's hand, shirtless and with several long, steel needles protruding from his skin. The man is holding him aloft by a firm grip on the back of his neck, keeping him up on his tiptoes with no apparent effort.

The only sign the goon is conscious is his quiet, hopeless sniffling. He hangs limp otherwise but Batman doesn't realize why until the man points whit his free hand at the goon's arm.

"So, you know how it hurts like a bitch when you hit your elbow just wrong?"

Pressure points. The needles are stuck in pressure points.

Robin nods, eager.

"That's because there's an important nerve" the man taps his finger "right here".

He sounds friendly. He's using a person as a prop.

"Now, go on. Find it" he encourages. "You did great with the other ones".

Batman's Robin preens at the praise and separates a needle from his bundle. The goon sniffles harder.

"That's enough!"

Robin startles and turns around when he speaks. His face twists in a guilty grimace, like he just realized what he was doing.

The man does not startle. He just says "Is playtime over already?" without missing a beat. The goon is unceremoniously dropped to the floor, like a puppet with its strings cut loose. He lands just as haphazardly, without moving a muscle away from the awkward position he ended up in. Bruce doubts he would move even if he could. There's something about the man's casual disregard that speaks of danger. Gotham's people know a threat when they see one. Not that the man was being subtle about it.

Robin avoids Batman's eyes at the sound of the body hitting the floor, uncertainty clear on the line of his shoulders.

The man sees. He turns to Batman without an ounce of fear, his limbs relaxed and his eyes amused.

"No need to get so worked up, Dad Bat". He crouches down, retrieving a needle from the goons shoulder. His fingers mark the depth of the wound on the length of the weapon when he holds it up for Bruce to see.

"Senbon are only fatal if you're truly good with them, '' he explains. His tone turns ever so slightly mocking. "Wasn't teaching your kid anything you wouldn't approve of".

The man throws his needle (senbon?) for Robin to catch and goes for the door, showing no sign of apprehension at having to walk past him, shoulders almost touching.

"Stop". Bruce's hand shoots out, grabbing the man by the arm. He allows himself to be stopped, looking him in the eye despite de cowl's lenses.

"Let the boy keep the things, will you? Children need their toys". Bruce does not deign that with an answer.

"Who are you?"

The man hums, amused.

"I'm sure you'll find out, eventually"

And then he just leaves. Shakes Bruce's hand out of his arm and walks through the door without hurry. He's no longer in the hallway when Bruce tries to follow

(that's about it, the rest I have is random ideas and half scenes. Also. I realized just now I have to clean up when I use real and code names. It has to make some sort of sense)

Oh oh this is fantastic

[endwithajadestrick]

Who Is Fucking In Star Wars? A Non-Comprehensive List

So in honor(?) of the DDoS attack on Ao3 preventing us all from mainlining slash fic, I've decided to go horny on main and list off my opinion about 3 traits of all Star Wars characters. Our beloved Galaxy Far Far Away is a usually (tragically) chaste place, which may lead us to ponder about our faves:

Do they even know what sex is?

Have they ever actually HAD sex?

Are they any good at it?

We will not be including characters who are minors in this list. Obviously. Judgements are based somewhat on the lore, but really more on vibes. Perhaps it goes without saying, this will be lightly NSFW.

This is probably gonna take a while and stop feeling like a good idea halfway through. Which of your exes does that describe? Let's Go!!!

Starting with the big three:

Han Solo

Always begin with an easy one.

Does he even know what sex is? Yes, unlike a surprising number of people in this galaxy, Han knows how to do the do.

Has he ever had sex before? Sure (but not as often as he wants you to think). Do you, uh . . . maybe wanna get out of here and come back to his ship? She's called the Millenium Falcon.

Is he good at sex? Look. It's not going to be good the first time. He's gonna keep insisting that he "knows what he's doing," but you wish he would just let you explain what you like. He needs to be girlbossed around a little bit. And it is mostly girls for him, though the occasional guy and non-binary being has mounted that loading ramp too. His bedroom does smell kind of funny.

Luke Skywalker

This one may be controversial for some people.

Does he know what sex is? Nope. Farm boy didn't go to schmool. Skool? Am I saying that right? There were no copies of Our Bodies, Our Selves lying around the rebellion base, and you better believe the Sacred Jedi Texts did not include some kind of version of the Space Kama Sutra. Han wasn't gonna draw him a diagram either; that would be too embarrassing. This man is not learned in the pleasures of the flesh.

Has he ever had sex? Also no. He got into some light over-the-clothes action with Biggs Darklighter when they were teens, but nothing ever went any farther than that.

Is he good at sex? I'm sure a real earnest effort would be made, but we'll never know, will we. Because he DOES NOT KNOW what sex is.

Princess/General Leia Organa

Does she even know what sex is? Oh, absolutely. This woman was treated to an actual formal education. She probably even got a nice, progressive version of SexEd that talked about pleasure and consent and not just all the weird diseases you could get--assuming the Empire didn't nix that sort of thing on Alderaan, which, honestly, they might have.

Has she ever had sex? Of course. And despite being a princess, she's not that precious about courtship either. Casual flings are totally fine and normal.

Is she good at sex? Leia is mature but, like her hairstyles, can be a little tightly wound. Once you get over any initial awkwardness, though, it's sure to be a fun flirty time.

And this is Star Wars, so sooner or later we have to address--

Chewbacca

--the aliens of it all. Welcome, monster fuckers! It's not even weird in this universe!

Does he know what sex is? Chewy is canonically 234 years old as of TLJ, so I'm going to give this a definite yes. Also, he hangs out with Han Solo and all the doors in this universe appear to be panel-controlled. There are no door knobs to stick a sock on; he's SEEN some things.

Has he ever had sex? Again, 234 years old, and Chewy has never seemed like a wallflower. This is also a yes.

Is he good at it? Maz Kanata seems to think so? I don't pretend I have the predilections/imagination to get the appeal (though I honor those that do), but I'm gonna take a swing and say, yes, Chewbacca is a good lover. Solid stamina, surprisingly tender after-care.

Lando Calrissian

Does he know what sex is? Yes, and not just on a mechanical level. If anyone in this universe HAS read the Space Kama Sutra, it's Lando.

Has he ever had sex? He has. And he doesn't keep a list of all his past sexual partners because that would be crass. But he COULD tell you about each of them, names, dates, locations. But he won't. But he could.

Is he good at it? Surprisingly, yes! He may come across as a guy who is all talk, but Lando is an artist at heart and the democratically elected President of Consent. He has mood lighting set up and a tastefully curated playlist. The atmosphere is fun, the oral is enthusiastic. When you're done--wow!--there's a mini bar right near the bed. And would you like to borrow a silk robe?

Your magical evening will not prevent him from cheating you at cards later, though.

Obi-Wan Kenobi

Does he know what sex is? No. He learned once, but has since memory-holed the information. Otherwise he might accidentally experience some pleasure from the stick up his bum.

Has he ever had sex? Many beings have made valiant efforts to claim this beautiful man as a conquest. All have failed, but there was much exquisite yearning along the way.

Is he good at it? Hypothetically? Alas, my heart wants to say yes, but my head says no.

Padmé Amidala

Does she know what sex is? Look at this dress. This dress is a CHOICE, a ruthless tactical decision made by someone who definitely knows what sex is.

Has she ever had sex? Yes, but her taste in men--oh, honey.

Is she good at it? A pillow princess if there ever was one. You will be doing all the work.

Anakin Skywalker

Does he know what sex is? No.

Has he ever had sex? Yes.

Is he good at it? . . . and I know those answers seem contradictory, but it's true. This is a man who has had normal, consensual adult sex. However, baby boy's brain is full of more holes than a colander. He is dummy thick actually in the head region. He is incapable of retaining complex thoughts such as the nuances of sexuality.

That said, he is a creature of pure instinct and, like, yeah, the lovemaking is pretty hot.

Mace Windu

Does he know what sex is? Yes.

Has he ever had sex? No.

Is he good at it? If it ever happened, which it won't? No, and Mace is possibly the only Sammy J character for whom this holds true. It would be strictly procreative missionary. No fun allowed.

Yoda

Does he know what sex is? Yes, he is aware. Knowledge is this little frog man's burden; Yoda is too in touch with the Force, the life energy of the universe, not to know. He WOULD not know if he could, but he has had to settle for just ignoring the information.

Has he ever had sex? You know I am genuinely stumped on this one. On one hand, he is the perfect ascetic Jedi sage. On the other hand, a nine hundred year lifespan is a long time . . . anything could have happened to this lilliputian enigma.

Is he good at it? Size matters not.

The Mandalorian

Yeah I know his name is "Din Djarin." Shush.

Does he know what sex is? I'm pretty sure this guy thinks that babies are found, not made. He does not know what sex is.

Has he ever had sex? I don't care what season one implied about Mando and that toothsome twi'lek, it's never happened. The helmet doesn't come off and the trousers don't drop.

Is he good at it? And here's the tragedy of it all, right? Because we know that underneath that impenetrable layer of beskar lies such a man. I don't even care if he's an ace, as seems plausible. Just the chance to look him in the eye would mean worlds.

Finn

Does he know what sex is? Negative, Ghost Rider. It's not something the First Order teaches their child soldiers, and the Resistance, like the rebellion of old, has bigger fish to fry. Poe wants to explain it to him, but feels like he has a dog in that race and it wouldn't be right.

Has he ever had sex? Men, women, and other beings are lining up around the corner for a shot at this man, but he only has eyes for one woman, and she in turn may be legitimately the only person in the galaxy who does not pine for him. Hang in there, Finn! Maybe one day she'll become emotionally available.

Is he good at it? While we have seen Finn makes some selfish moves along his journey--mainly because of, y'know, all the trauma--he has done a lot of growing and is an essentially generous spirit. This gets a yes.

Rey Skywalker

Does she know what sex is? Not in either The Force Awakens or The Last Jedi, but before Rise of Skywalker Leia explained it to her. She's the future of the Jedi after all, and this is basic stuff, goddammit Luke!

Has she ever had sex? Hmm, what's that? Sorry, she's super busy right now with, like, destiny and stuff.

Is she good at it? Rey seems to pick most things up fairly quickly, so you have to imagine that would hold true for l'amour as well, except that she'll also be a bit of a try-hard. Do less, sweety. Really, it's fine.

Lightning Round

Asajj Ventress

Yes, yes, and it depends on the answer to one question: do you enjoy pain?

L3-37

It Works.

Cinta Kaz

Yes, yes, and not just good but so good it will politically radicalize you.

Karis Nemik

No, which is a shame because you know that he would have made sex-positive feminism and queer theory a huge part of his manifesto.

Count Dooku

Gay, and pulled legendary numbers of exquisite vintage ass across the galaxy. It's the real reason Sidious traded him in for simple, pussy-whipped Anakin. He just couldn't take it anymore.

Luthen Rael

Hope you like role-play.

Armitage Hux

Yes, it's true; this man has no dick.

Qi'ra

Yes, yes, and good but maybe in a dangerous way? Like drugs, it's possible that you--maybe even most people--could have a healthy, well-adjusted relationship to it. But there's a chance also that it will alter your brain chemistry, fundamentally shift your priorities, and ruin your life. The only way for sure to be safe is not to try it, not even once!

The Bendu

The One in the Middle. So in this case, would that be, like, the taint?

Reva Sevander

I mean, do you like it freaky? How freaky do you like it? There are levels to this sort of thing, and you, through no fault of your own, may not be ready for this ride.

Cassian Andor

Cassian Andor fucks.

The Armorer

I tried to get a read on this one, and all I picked up was radio static. We'll never know. We'll just never know.

Rose Tico

Rose appears naive at first, but she's actually quite worldly and will rock yours.

Bo-Katan Kryze

I daresay more than 2% of us want her to sit on our face. Ms. Sackoff was really lowballing it. Bo does not know what sex is, however, and is rarely in listening-mode, so that's a hurdle we'll have to overcome.

But it's more than 2%.

Poe Dameron

Yes, yes, and does it even matter? It would be an honor just to be considered, sir.

Hera Syndulla

Whatever Lola wants, Lola gets. Apparently what Lola wants is an inexperienced, sexually repressed Jedi hotty. In this way, she is the true queen of Star Wars fandom. Captain our ship, Hera!

And Finally:

Kylo Ren

I do not understand the hold this man has on some of you--which is fine; you don't need me to understand it. He does not know what sex is, he is so horny and angry all the time. And sure, maybe you CAN fix him by completing his education. Blessings, angels. Live your fantasy.

Just promise me you'll use protection? And I don't mean a condom, I mean body armor.

[dudeshusband]

Ship: Mike x Dude

Words: 760

Description: Drabblecember Day 21: A walk down memory lane.

Dude waited downstairs for Mike, who was running late for their date. He leaned against the railing, still confused why he was asked to wait down here in the first place. He’d seen all of his partner there was to see. He wasn’t sure where they were going either. They’d been vague with the details. He sighed and looked up the stairs. What was holding them up? 

When they did come down, Dude was rendered speechless. He had expected to see Mike as he’d come to know them, with their boyish clothes and bare face. He was faced with his partner in a skirt, a skirt he hadn’t seen in a long time. 

“I think,”  Mike said, “I think I was wearing this when we met, remember?” 

They swished their neutral toned skirt, and gave them a smile with their lips they’d painted red, like they used to. 

“I remember,” he said. “You worked at the bar.”

“I was new in town. I was lucky Carlos gave me a job.” 

“I was a casual drinker then,” Dude continued. “I came in to ask for a whiskey. I had a long day.” 

Mike playfully tugged at Dude’s collar, “You never did button your shirts all the way. And it wasn’t summer then either.” 

Dude grinned. “You like it. You probably liked it then, too.” 

“I never said I didn’t.” 

“Why are you dressed like that anyway?” he asked. 

Mike smiled and pulled their guns out of the pockets of their skirts. “We’re going shooting.” 

“I think we both had a lot of practice.” 

Mike smiled mischievously. “I think I’m better than you now.” 

He laughed. “Is that right?” 

“Uh huh. I bet I can shoot farther and faster.” 

“Sounds like a challenge. What are we shootin’?” 

“Bottles, of course,” they replied. “Like we used to.” 

“Aw, that’s too easy.” 

“Let’s spare the birds.” 

Dude readjusted his hat, and they walked outside of town, to the cactus they liked to practice by. Mike had set up the bottles at some point. 

“Alright. We see who’s faster first,” Dude suggested. “On the count of 3?” 

Mike nodded. 

Dude started, “One.” 

Mike chimed in, “Two.” 

“Three.” 

Dude pulled his guns from their holster and shot three bottles down before Mike had gotten a proper grip on their guns. He twirled them in his hands and put them back in his pockets. Mike got the last two, but only because their boyfriend let them. 

“Still too slow, honey,” he said, amused.

“I’m faster than Stumpy,” Mike said, “And I’m gaining on Colorado.” 

“Gainin’ on Colorado, huh?” 

“Yeah!” Mike said. They weren’t being completely honest. Their shoulders sagged, “Oh, I can’t help it if I’m a little slow!” 

Dude smiled. “You’re doing okay. I’ve got a lot more practice than you. That’s all.” 

Mike frowned.  “I thought I’d be better. I wanted to impress you.  I’ve been shooting a gun for 3 years and I’m still too slow.” 

“Hey, you are better. You couldn’t shoot anything when we met. You hit those bottles! Both of ‘em. Pretty quick, too.” 

Mike smiled. “Thanks. I bet you can still shoot farther, huh?” 

Dude shrugged. “We’ll see.”  

Mike set up a few bottles as far as they thought their short guns might reach. Dude went first. He focused on one of the bottles on the left, took a moment to aim, then shot. It hit. 

“Not bad,” Dude said. “Would’ve been harder if it had been moving.” 

Mike squinted, and tried to aim. “Hmm. I don’t think I can even see that far!”

Dude chuckled. “You might wanna get some glasses.” 

They hit the bottle, but it took longer for them to aim than it had taken Dude. 

“Hey! I got it!” Mike yelled happily.

He nodded, “You did.” 

When they slipped their guns back into their skirt, he pulled them close and kissed them on the side of the head. 

“I’m impressed,” he said into their ear. 

“You’re just saying that.”  

“No, I’m proud of you. But honestly, honey, I’m always proud of you.” 

Mike snuggled into his side. “We should come back next year, and compare again. But I’m wearing my regular clothes next time.”  

“Hm. You wanna know a secret? I like you better when you look like a…well, a boy, I guess.” 

Mike chuckled, “Yeah?”

He grinned at them and said lightheartedly, “Don’t go around tellin’ anybody that.”

“You’re with a crossdresser,” Mike said. “Everybody already knows there’s something queer about you.” 

“I don’t mind.” 

“You better not,” Mike said into his neck. 

He kissed the top of their head. “I don’t.” 

[seancekitsch]

HI IF I MAY if you still wanna write Cahir, then maybe number 9 “Holding your jacket over your lover's head as they hide from the rain, finding their formal outfit more important than your casual wear” WITH a teensy little addendum; instead of formal wear, just…. Your absolute filthiest mudcaked travel gear. Because cute. IF YOU WANT. And also pretty please. I hope you get lots of interesting requests though

hiiiiiie i loved this idea

“What are you doing?!” you shout, if only to be heard over the roaring sound of the rain. The storm had picked up quite rapidly about a quarter mile from the next town, and the entire hansa started scrambling. You heard a shout about protecting a lute and keeping swords from rusting before you all started awkwardly running to avoid slipping and falling into the mud, something you barely avoided. Cahir had come up from behind, you at the front of the group before you got over confident and stumbled into the mud. Now your boots and pants were soaked and you hoped to be by the fire of an inn as soon as possible.

Cahir comes up behind you, his own cloak shucked off his body and now the young man attempts to shield you from the rain with it. What’s the point? You’re already soaked to the bone, and he’s about to be as well.

“Ladies shouldn’t have to suffer the elements!” He half-yells back. You can’t tell if he’s teasing you or not. It’s been a while since you’ve been seen as a Lady or anything dignified. You huff and continue to walk on with him, silently cursing the fact that his chivalry will probably result in both of you being sick and miserable. The lights of the inn you’ve acquired for the night flicker in the distance, and the end is in sight.

You look up at him as if he’s gone mad which is adorable in its own right, but then Cahir notices something in your expression soften beautifully. He takes in your appearance, even in the dusky light. Beauty in all of your features.

And then his foot slips out from under him.

You shriek as his cloak comes down over your face and Cahir drags you down with him. Both of you slipping and sliding into the mud, but Cahir immediately grabs for you to try to keep you up, even if he falls.

“Careful!” you shout, trying to untangle yourself from his cloak. He quickly reorients himself, but not without first taking a knee straight into the mud similarly to how you did when the rain picked up.

“Wrap that around you!” he calls back, his soft voice traveling over the patter of rain, “I couldn’t forgive myself if you got sick.”

Your stomach flutters at hearing those words. It’s not secret to the hansa the effect the man from Vicovaro has on you. You smile, working the wet and slippery buttons of the clasp together to keep it on you. Cahir lifts his hand to pull the hood farther down to protect your head, the warm weight of his hand just beckoning you to lean into his touch.

“Thank you,” you say, a little quieter, hoping the others farther behind can’t hear the softness in your tone. Any vulnerability will be teased over dinner.

The inn on the outskirts of town now only several paces away, you can even hear the roar of patrons in the rain. Soon you can run a hot bath and get warm dry clothes on your body and relax. You don’t even let yourself think of Cahir bathing and doing the same, but maybe you should. Maybe the heat on your cheeks would stop the clattering of your teeth in the cold rain.

Once the mud turns to cobblestones it’s much easier to run to the overhanging roof of the structure, Cahir quickly swinging open the door and ushering you inside.

He pulls down your hood gently, and smooths away any hair stuck down to your face from the rain.

“Let me go to your rooms,” he requests.

“Oh, so forward of you. And here I thought you were a man of honor,” you tease back. He laughs, quietly.

“I mean so I can start heating your bath and your fireplace for you.”

“Oh, there’s no need. Your cloak was already enough,” you protest, your hand moving to grasp at the arm of his tunic like you could hold him back. Once Cahir puts his mind to something, it is done.

“I insist.”

[jellyluchi]

Mi dai sui nervi!

A/N: I'm supremely late but this is part of Celebrate Love Collab by @anikasenkujo for Valentine's Day! At least I'm somewhat on time for White day!

Ao3 Link

Pairing: Prosciutto x Reader Genre: NSFW Warnings: daddy kink, improper use of stands,tentacle bondage, dacryphilia, edging, overstimulation, orgasm denial, cream pie, voyeurism, multiple penetration (both cock and tentacles), degradation, possessive behavior, angry sex Summary: You tease Prosciutto a bit much on Valentine's day, leading you to your exhausting yet sexy demise.

“It���s not right,” Prosciutto says, taking a sip from his coffee, sitting across from you he’s the perfect visage of relaxation in his rare casual clothing, a fitting sight for the reason you’re here. But his face contrasts entirely, brows turned down and eyes squinting just a bit as he looks at you, the smug little smile on your face irritating him more. “The process of making pasta should be treated with more respect than you are giving it.” 

Resting your head over your palm, you let your elbow stand on the table, the white tablecloth reflecting the sun beautifully and you remember why you’re here. After rigorously saving money, your husband finally arranged a trip for you two outside of Italy, and given the perfect timing, you two chose to plan it for Valentine’s day. What better day to be in the city of love, Paris, than the day of love itself? 

Seated with your favorite outfit on and feigning innocence towards his mood, you continue, “but pasta is pasta, it tastes good no matter what. So what if it’s a little soggy? Or even a little soft?”

The petulant sight that leaves Prosciutto’s lips tells you that you’re going in the right direction, you almost expect him to start shaking his leg under the table in frustration. 

“That’s not how it’s supposed to be cooked, Tesoro. Do you not remember how I taught you?” A sudden vision of a very excited Prosciutto enters your mind as you remember his meticulous explanation of the pasta boiling process. 

“ Every rule doesn’t have to be followed… People make changes to recipes all the time, it’s no big deal.” The dawn of a scowl forms on Prosciutto’s perfect lips, his naturally angry eyes growing angrier by the second at your dismissal. It’s odd, he thinks, you’d never shown this much nonchalance when it came to cooking at home, what got into you? 

“It’s not about the recipe, my darling, pasta making is a craft!” He says, his hands starting to gesture in a very stereotypical way. Holding back a giggle, you decide it’s time for your final blow. If you want to see a man like Prosciutto truly riled up, you will just have to pretend to disagree with his every statement in a way that’s just condescending enough for him to take the bait. 

“Oh please, it’s not that deep.” Expecting him to lose his patience in your face, you look away towards the other patrons of the quaint cafe you two decided to visit during the afternoon. Most other customers are deep within their conversations, completely ignorant of the little game you two are playing. Except for one lone man reading a newspaper nearby… 

A dark chuckle escapes Prosciutto’s lips and you turn to him, the sound dangerous from the way he looks at you and you realize any farther would be crossing a line. A warning flashes in your brain but you decide to ignore it. 

“I see what you’re trying to do. You just want to get punished.” Crossing his legs, Prosciutto sits back as if satisfied at having figured out your plan and waiting for you to pout at him as you usually do when you’re mad. “You won’t get what you want from me so easily.”

Yet, he doesn’t get the pleasure of seeing your plan fail as you give him a genuine smile, one that feels too nice. Suddenly, he feels your foot near his calf pressing and caressing gently, a smooth motion sending sensation up his leg. 

Immediately stiffening his body, he keeps his breathing from becoming uneven, thanking his luck that the table clock covers your activities from being viewable to the cafe’s patrons. A blush crawls its way to his cheeks, coloring the pale white of his skin a beautiful rose. 

“Is that so?” Your voice is barely above a whisper as your legs threaten to go higher into his thigh, yet the scowl never leaves his face. He looks so handsome, you think, blushing prettily for you with the seething anger of a tiny kitten. “If I wanted to be punished… my methods would be far different than you could imagine.” 

 With your warm, gentle touch leaving his leg, Prosciutto looks at you confused when you stand up from the table. But he doesn’t have to ask you where you’re going as you walk up to the lone man you’d noticed earlier. With the blush now dissipating, all of his blood rushes elsewhere as Prosciutto’s knuckles go white from anger. 

“Excuse me, is this seat taken?” You ask the man who shakes his head no. He must be no older than forty and you try to suppress the excitement of having your husband watch you talk to an older, handsome man. You feel electricity run through you as you think of Prosciutto’s hawk-like eyes on you two from his spot, the jealousy making a terrible mixture with his anger. Taking the seat, you make idle chatter, making sure your proximity to him 

Soon, you learn his name is Phillipe, a local businessman who seems rather confused at your attempt to speak to him, yet shows no sign of refusal. In fact, his warm smile and laugh at your terrible jokes seems rather inviting. Sneaking a glance, you realize Prosciutto kept his eyes stuck to your figure the entire time, now smoking one of his cigarettes impatiently, and you catch his thigh shaking from your view of him. It’s a wonder he hasn’t decided to drag you away yet, so you push your limits. 

Leaning closer to the man, you ask him to repeat what he was saying, as if you couldn’t hear over the minimal commotion of the outdoor cafe, your hand coming to rest on his arm. Phillipe says something inconsequential yet you laugh heartily, your hand now moving to his one on the table. 

With your heart pounding in your ears you wait for the devil to come to get you. And within what feels like seconds, you sense your husband’s presence behind you, taking a hold of your free hand, his voice coming an unnatural baritone from above. “Let’s go.” You didn’t see when he crushed his cigarette under his foot or when he strode with all the determination that his body could muster and the fire of a thousand suns burning within his mind. 

“Oh, goodbye!” You say politely to the man before your companion could pull you away, his grip on your wrist firms, almost painful. “Prosciutto?” 

He would not look at you, barely registering your voice as you two make the quiet way back to your hotel room. Your questions fell on deaf ears in the hallway and the elevator. 

Blood rushes past your ears as you wonder if your game has gone too far. But Prosciutto closes the door to your room rather gently when you expect him to slam it. 

“What’s going on? Why won’t you speak to me?” When he finally looks at your face you see the sparkle of his blue eyes have turned them into dangerous, dark cobalt. Long gone is the smugness and mischief that you bore moments ago, replaced with alarm and anxiety. Yet you can’t help but find it somewhat lustful just how jealous he must have gotten for him to be looking at you this way. Swimming in the depths of his shimmering eyes is a possessiveness you’ve yet to see from him. 

“How can you ask me that after what you were just doing?” He asks back, clearly restraining his voice to keep from shouting at you. The amount of self-control he subjects himself to only adds to your arousal and you look at his shaking fists. Suddenly running a hand over his face, he turns towards the window overlooking the beautiful city. And you wonder if you’ve ruined your Valentine’s day for both you and your beloved. 

“Wait, Pros, I-” 

“You very much wanted that punishment didn’t you?...” Prosciutto mutters, not looking back at you.

“What?” 

A sudden cold sensation overtakes you, as you feel the presence of something at your back. Before you could blink, your body is pulled towards the bed in one fell sweep and you land on the mattress somewhat disoriented with a vice-like grip from something that keeps you from moving. Your head rests against something that is there and also not as if a phantom grabbed you by the waist and you realize the large robotic hand that pulled you in is none other than your husband’s stand, The Grateful Dead. 

A couple of eyes stare back at you from its arm when you look towards Prosciutto for answers. 

“Prosciutto! What’s going on?!” 

Your feet are kept from squirming as the tendrils from the stand body roam your flesh greedily, quickly getting beneath your clothes. Despite the discomfort, you can’t deny the heavy feeling of arousal between your legs, pitting at the bottom of your stomach and you almost moan when a tentacle ghosts over your nipple.  

Your husband finally turns around, facing you with the apathy of a jaded man. You notice the straining erection tight within his pants as he takes off his jacket with one sensuous motion. Muscles protruding from under his shirt, Prosciutto looks the epitome of hardened mafioso when he strips, something you’ve come to appreciate over the years in your relationship. 

“Playing silly games with me,” he spits, his tone venomous with rage. As you feel his stand’s hold on you get tighter you realize just how much anger you’d roused in your husband with your actions. Despite the terrifying realization, you only feel yourself ache more between the thighs, the thought of his wrath only tantalizes you further. 

“I’m sorry Daddy,” you let slip, moaning as the tendrils squeeze your soft flesh at the perfect spots, your favorite spots. In some quick motions, he’s able to get you entirely naked, not caring much for the fabric it ruins. You whimper at the manhandling, noticing that your Daddy ignored the pathetic apology, opting to fill his pockets with his hands while watching the show of your defilement with keen eyes. 

Whimpers and moans echo on the walls as The Grateful Dead restricts your body with strict yet delicate strokes, the strange feeling of the tentacles overtaking all your senses inch by inch. You notice your Daddy sitting nearby, drinking in the filthy sight with his legs wide open, showcasing the protruding of the member you so wish was inside you instead.

As a tentacle penetrates you more roughly than you were expecting, you imagine it’s your Daddy’s warmth, and the slick flickering of your nipples is your daddy’s tongue. 

“Puttana,” he comments slowly, letting you watch him palm himself with barely restrained desperation. You know he wants to be inside you as badly as you’d like him to be. Biting your lip, you lose yourself in the pleasure of his derogatory word, quickly nearing your climax from the overwhelming stimulation from his stand. As the first waves of pleasure wash over you, you arch your back, legs shaking from the impact, only to realize the tendrils have not stopped their movements. 

Screaming from the overstimulation, your hands clutch at the sheets for some semblance of sanity within the experience. Mind going completely blank, your muscles ache everywhere, yet you only want more, allowing the stand to bring forth another orgasm from within you. its tentacles now cover more than half your body. 

“Please! Please, please, please,” you repeat, the sound of your voice now a broken record at the mercy of your husband’s wrath. The ache only worsens as there is no time for rest. The Grateful Dead is a stand as ruthless as its master, covering your mouth so you only hum from the restriction and its assault on your body, the sound of your wet entrance feeling like music to your Daddy’s ears. You see him now, still watching you with such hunger yet having the self-control 

Without comprehending any of your own words, you beg for your Daddy in broken, incohesive bursts. Whether for his stand to let you go or for him to offer you his length, you don’t know. Full to the brim and spent to the last drop of your sweat you finally relax when the tendrils slow their motion to a halt. Your breathing labors from the strenuous climax, but a tug from your arm has you whimpering from the firm grip it still has on you. 

Naked and bared to your Daddy, you still contain the shame and humiliation of him watching you get fucked by his stand, yet it keeps your arousal intact. And you let your legs spread wider when he nears with a satisfied, sinister smirk. Finally losing his shirt, he works on his belt buckle knowing it would make you moan just from the sight alone. 

The bed creaks from the weight of your Daddy’s knees as towers over your helpless body. 

“My my… What a filthy little whore you make,” he whispers, hand coming to squeeze at your large belly, moving closer and closer to where you want it most. Your chest rises and falls from the sound you make as a reply. With a gentle finger, he prods at your entrance to see how much his stand has opened you up. A yelp escapes your lips when two fingers slip in easily, the orgasms having left you extremely wet. 

“What a sweet little hole hm?” Your Daddy’s fingers stroke your walls pleasurably, having you buck your hips onto his hand immediately. But you so wish it could be his cock instead. As another orgasm nears, you think he would let you have one more, only for his fingers to leave at the last moment. 

Whining, you beg for him once more. “Please, Daddy? I promise I’ll be good. I promise!” But your request falls on deaf ears as he continues to edge. You’re not sure how much time passes before the tears crawl from your eyes to your neck. 

“Beautiful,” he mutters as your Daddy uses a thumb to smudge the ruined eyeliner, noting the smudged lipstick and ruined makeup caked over your face. He doesn’t stop even for a moment until your cry gets loud enough for the neighboring hotel room to hear. 

Too exhausted to beg, you don’t notice when your Daddy finally hovers over your restrained body. 

“Let’s have some more fun, shall we?” 

If you had the strength you would have attached yourself to him but the restraints keep you in place as you feel his cock tease your entrance. The hot flesh nearly scorches you, yet the smoothness from all your fluids makes you grind, especially when it reaches your peak. Moaning for him, your legs spread farther, subconsciously waiting for him to penetrate. 

“Ah!” The sound verbalizes from you as soon as he slaps your entrance with his cock, clearly playing games the way you’d been doing. 

“How about this, puttana, admit that you’re Daddy’s filthy slut and I may think about giving you what you want.” 

You are in no position to be making any demands, no position to be fighting back, only in place for your holes to be used by your Daddy at his discretion. 

“I am! I am… I’m Daddy filthy slut! Please just fill me like the filthy slut I am.” Your begging is finally fruitful as he enters you immediately, hot flesh throbbing against your walls, weeping from the lack of stimulation. He’s just as wet as you were, and you realize just how desperate he’d been for you. 

“Don’t you dare cum before I say so,” he threatens, gripping you by the jaw as his thrusts pick up. Your Daddy’s lovemaking is as ruthless as he loves to be. Gripping your wide hips he keeps his stand on you to keep your body in place as his eyes close in pleasure, using you the way you were intended to be. Posessively, his hand squeezes your chest, your belly, and your thighs, muttering "mine, mine, mine," to no one in particular. Your climax is impending and the ache of your muscles has you crying for release yet you hold on to your Daddy’s command.

Heart racing, you feel the tentacles moving once more, this time to your other hole, using the slick from your orgasm to slowly lubricate the muscles. You know your voice will be sore the next day from the exertion when the stand penetrates you once more in tandem with your Daddy’s cock. Filled to the brim, your senses are overwhelmed and you cannot tell how much longer you could go without release. 

Body protesting, you feel the arch of your back and the writhing muscles painfully throbbing from the pressure. At least, your Faffy finally releases into you, the thick white fluid pushing you over the edge. His thumb moving to your peak, he finally demands you cum over his cock. With one final shout of ecstasy, your body finally gives away, cumming over his cock and The Grateful Dead’s tentacle. 

At least, the stand disappears as Prosciutto’s body drops beside you and you keep yourself from passing out, the feeling of his seed dripping out of you keeping you from losing consciousness. 

You don’t expect your husband to suddenly turn to you, checking your hand and legs for any marks, sneakily pulling you into his arms. Not being able to say anything from your mind being foggy, you watch him with interest. 

Prosciutto leaves the bed momentarily, still completely naked, and produces a wet, warm towel that he drags over your body where he thinks the grip was too tight. And over your entrance, cleaning you up diligently. 

“Would you like some water?” 

You nod, your voice not having come back after the activities you just shared with him. He helps you sit up and holds the glass for you to drink after quickly fetching it from the tiny hotel kitchen. 

“Is there anything else you’d like?” He asks, once your glass is nearly empty. 

“Bathroom,” you blurt out, not even questioning that he helps you stand, walk, and do your business before letting you lay back in bed. 

Feeling him come up behind you and drape an arm over your midsection, you allow him this intimacy while looking into his blues. 

“I meant it,” he whispers. When you look at him with fatigue and confusion he clarifies himself. 

“That you are mine. No matter how many games you like to play with me, or how far your teasing goes… You’re mine.” 

The last words slip from his lips like a whisper before his exhausted eyes finally close into a deep sleep.

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[lou-struck]

House Rules

Mammon x reader

Prompt: 🚫👖+ Casino

~ Mammon takes you on a date to an underground casino and loses more than he bargained for.

Warnings: Loss of clothing, gambling, extortion

~This is one of the requested prompts for My Emoticon Expression’s Event; check out the masterlist on my homepage.

"Mammon, are you sure we should be here?" you ask, following the Avatar of Greed down a dimly lit alley in the Devildom's Red Light District. You tighten your grip on his hand. "It doesn't look like there is a Casino around here."

The shadows from the brick building are unable to hide the gleam from his large orange-tinted sunglasses. "Course there is Mc. Has the great Mammon ever steered ya wrong?" he says, leading you farther along the path. You have to step over a few rain-filled potholes to keep up with his excited strides.

The answer is, of course, he has, but there is no need to bring up all those instances right now. The damp and unclean atmosphere sends chills down your spine. If you listen closely, you can hear the faint scurrying of what can only be Rats.

"I'm not so sure about this," you say hesitantly, jumping at the noise. "How about we just head back to the House and call it a night."

"Hey, don't worry. We're safe," he says softly, scooping you up into his arms. "I'd never let anythin happen to my human."

Grabbing his shoulders for support, you let him carry you down the alleyway. "just wait. this place is supposed to be amazin Mc. I heard about it from one of the Bookies at the Shadow races. It's a secret though, so don't go tellin' Lucifer or anyone else got it?"

"Interesting, So where is it?" you hum, looking around for anything that looks like an entrance, not promising anything to the Demon, who is currently distracted by your praise.

"It's around here somewhere," he murmurs, setting you down and running his hands along a stone wall, patting the brick, looking for some hidden button or switch. His face is so close to the wall you wonder if he is squinting under his shades. "Ya see anything, MC?"

Turning your head to the side of the wall, you see a dark metal door handle. Curiously you reach out and give it a little twist. It creaks open to reveal a slick and shiny black marble floor. "Found it." you chirp glancing over at the embarrassed-looking Demon. "Maybe if you weren't wearing those glasses in the dark, you would've seen it."

"Shuddup," he says, placing his hand on the small of your back, leading you inside the building." I was just makin sure this wall was safe."

"Sure you were," you tease me, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek, taking his arm, and wandering deeper down the hallway. A thin layer of fog coats the ground mixing with the black lights from the ceiling.

For a moment, you almost feel as if you are inside some seedy club from the human world until you reach the entrance to what can only be the underground casino.

A long velvet rope separates your hallway from the card tables, "Is that it?" you ask, standing on your tiptoes to see farther into the room only to have your view blocked by an approaching figure.

Their massive eight-foot-tall form strides through the smoke menacingly, the black light reflecting on their skin, making it look more like stone than flesh. You feel your knees shaking when you glimpse at his frighteningly strong arms.

You want to turn back, but Maman Mammon is quick to comfort you shooting you an all-too-confident smile. "Hey, I got this. Just follow my lead." He whispers, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and trying to walk through the door casually.

The demonic bouncer doesn't take too kindly to this. Sticking his arm out and pushing Mammon back by the chest, he stumbles back, pulling with you and nearly toppling you over. "I'm going to need a cover charge."

"Jeez," Mammon pants, "Mc, he didn't hit ya did he?"

"Nope, just you," you reply, gently smoothing out the crease in Mammon's jacket. "Are you hurt?"

"Nah, he just looks tough, that's all," Mammon whispers into your ear. You stifle a giggle and look up at the clearly unamused bouncer, who only holds out his hand expectantly. "R-right, the charge." Mammon digs around in his pocket for some Grimm to pay for the both of you.

"Only you, Avatar of Greed." The bouncer says as the first coin is dropped in its speckled hand. "No charge for the human."

"Look at that, MC, yer already bringin me luck," Mammon says, nodding to the bouncer and leading you into the casino and past the bouncer, who gives you a friendly smile, which you return quickly.

The floor is speckled with the reflections of the enormous black diamond chandelier that hangs in the center of the casino. Its grandiose elegance takes your breath away. "I've never seen anything like this before." you gasp staring at the fixture with wide eyes.

"It's cool, right?" Mammon says, reaching up and running his fingers across the bottom of the fixture. "I told ya it would all work out, didn't I?" he looks at you eagerly, not even bothering to hide his desire to receive your praise.

Letting out a little huff, you turn to face him, taking in every beautiful inch of his inhuman features. "You did good, Mammon." you grin, letting the joy in your chest bubble up to the surface. Gently you raise your arms and push his oversized glasses up off of his eyes and onto his white hair.

"W-what are you doin?" he stammers, adverting his beautiful blue gaze from your face to the floor bashfully.

"Jus wanted to see your whole face," you say, leaning in and capturing his lips in a soft kiss.

He lets out a bit of nervous laughter before kissing you back greedily. "I feel like I can win big with you at my side," he mumbles against your lips. "Wanna be my lucky charm?"

"Anytime," you breathe staring up at your Demon. He may be an impulsive gambler, but you love this sweet idiot more than life itself.

He intertwines his fingers in yours as you walk past groups of well-dressed Demons and Witches playing shots and shootin craps. "These don't feel good," Mammon says, looking at the Machines. "I wanna play somethin else."

You cock your head to the side, "Like what?"

A low hissing sound catches your attention. "~Hey Handssssome. Care to play a hand?" a serpentine-looking dealer asks, their scaled skin glows golden underneath the blacklight, and she gives you two a fanged grin. Their long tail gestured to the empty seat at their poker table.

Mammon shrugs and sits down at the table, "Just a few, I guess." he takes some Grimm from his wallet and slides it over to the Dealer, who trades it in for a large pile of chips.

She turns her gaze over to you, "Take a ssssseat." She offers, pulling out another chair for you to join Mammon at the table.

"Oh, I'm just watching," you object, waving your hands

"It'ssssss fine. Jussssst watch." she smiles, flicking her forked tongue and directing her attention to dealing cards to Mammon and the other demons who have joined you at the table.

Devil Poker looks a bit different from poker in the human world, but you are able to tell that Mammon lost the first few hands, only having a few of his chips left.

"Mammon, maybe we should call it for a little bit. It's better to leave a little bit of money than lose it all, right?" You whisper.

"It's all right; I know what's going on." He says, clenching his fist determinedly. "I'll win for sure this time." When he gets lost in the moment, you know that there is no changing his mind as he slides the rest of his chips into the middle. "M' goin all in."

You shake your head and cover your eyes with your hands, so you don't have to see him lose this hand. But instead of hearing murmurs of shock leave his lips, you hear his breath hitch.

"I-i won," Mammon breathes,

You open your eyes and glance down at his hand, a Royal flush all in the Red heart suit.

He taps your shoulder quickly, trying to contain his excitement. "Mc, I won."

"You did," you say, feeling amazed by his stroke of luck.

The Dealer slams her hand on the table, "Ssssssorry, I have a 7-2 Offsuit, which means I win the hand."

Mammon's jaw drops to the floor as he processes their hand. "Oi, that's the worst hand in poker. What are you playin' at?"

"House rulesssss," the Demon frowns, raising her voice.

You're shocked, rendered speechless by the shift in the Demon's disposition.

Of course this would happen to Mammon the first time he has ever won his hand on an All In.

"This place is a Scam," Mammon yells, springing from his seat. "What kind of establishment are ya runnin ere?"

"Double the payment for the outburst." The Dealer hisses, glaring over at Mammon with a vertical gaze. "Pay up and go."

"That's ridiculous, come on, Mc, We're leavin'." he takes your hand and turns right into the strong chest of the bouncer. He glares down at Mammon darkly as a violet aura surrounds his form.

"Are we going to have a problem here?" he growls, clenching his hands into fists the size of bowling balls.

To his credit, Mammon bravely pushes you behind him and puffs out his chest. "No, we're just leavin'."

"Without payment," the Dealer hisses slithering around the table and next to the bouncer.

"You already got his chips," you say boldly, poking your head out from behind Mammon. "Let's leave it at that, and we can all go our separate ways."

They cross their scaled arms, "He needs to pay more."

"Ha, jokes on you; you took all my money." Mammon laughs, showing everyone his empty wallet. You have never been so thankful Lucifer confiscated his credit card; he is shaking like a leaf but is putting on a brave face just for you.

The Dealer looks him up and down before smiling sinisterly at the buff bouncer. “Hissss pantss are nice. Take them."

The bouncer grunts, grabbing Mammon by his arm and pulls him towards him roughly. He turns his gaze over to you and jerks it towards the door threateningly. "Out, Human."

"Got it," you say, holding up your hands innocently and following the two down the hall.

He tosses Mammon onto the obsidian floor, and he slides against the wall; he looks beyond the bouncer and at you with a look of fear in his eyes. "Do whatever you want with me, but leave MC out of this."

The bouncer lets out a hearty chuckle looking between you and Mammon with a look of amusement. "The human didn't piss off the dealer; you did, so take off your pants and get out of here."

Mammon sighs in relief as you step past the bouncer and to his side. "Yer okay, right?" he asks, looking you over. "M' sorry, things got crazy."

"I'm used to it," you giggle as the bouncer sends you another friendly smile. "But I think you have to give them your pants.

He lets out an annoyed huff "yeah yeah, turn away." he says, fiddling with his zipper. Your advert your gaze for his sake as he slides his jeans down to the floor and hands them to the bouncer.

Glancing over, you see Mammon crossing his arms, trying to look as intimidating as he can for someone standing in a casino in his heart-shaped boxers. "Anything else?" he mumbles

The bouncer reaches out and pinches the fabric on Mammon's tan leather jacket. "That's a nice jacket you got there.

~

The two of you walk back through the dreary alleyway just as the rain picks up again, bouncing off of Mammon's practically bare form. "This sucks," he grumbles with a pink blush on his cheeks. "Ya better not tell anyone about this, Mc."

"I just can't believe you lost your pants in a game of poker." you snort, latching onto his arm and giving him a peck on the cheek.

"It was rigged," he sighs, trying not to look too happy from your kiss, "The Great Mammon would've won fair and square at another casino."

"It could be worse, Mammon." You say brightly, glancing back at the bouncer who is admiring his reflection in a large puddle wearing a very familiar-looking ill-fitting leather jacket, "At least you got to keep your sunglasses."

[amysterywrappedinanenigma]

Ranking (bullying) LD Curtain's season 2 fashion choices

Because even if the show seems to have forgiven him, I sure haven’t. 

DISCLAIMER: This is in NO WAY criticizing the costume designers of this show- it couldn’t be farther from that. They’ve done an amazing job with every single piece in the show, and all of these fit Curtain’s personality and aesthetic perfectly. This is just me mocking the in-universe fashion choices that the character makes, because he needs to be bullied more. All lighthearted, all in good fun.

Disclaimer #2: I know literally nothing about fashion, please don’t attack me. 

Okay, from least heinous to most heinous, here we go! 

First up:

As much as it pains me to admit this. I actually. Really like this one. (”And if you told me I would never say something like that, well, I would never say something like that, but here we are.”) I think the silhouette is interesting, and all of the pieces come together well. Plus, in some of the tighter shots you can see that the fabric texture and detailing is really cool:

The leaves as clasps and that crinkly texture kind of really slap, and I really love the way the collar sort of wraps into the placket.

8 / 10

Interview outfit:

Wow, look! Another one that doesn't inspire immediate feelings of rage! We're doing so well.

This one isn't as visually interesting as the first outfit, but I do sort of like it. The collar folds create kind of a cool shape, and the grey accents under the top is a nice little contrast. I don't know how I feel about the zipper right below the collar, it's kind of a weird choice and might look better if it wasn't so visible, but I'll let it slide for this one since we have a much more heinous zipper situation coming up later.

I like the contrasting shades of blue with the button up shirt, and the lavender shirt he wears under it later in the episode, and the fact that part of the collar can kind of fold down to make a different shape.

6 / 10

Clown sleeves:

So the sleeves on this one are. kind of a lot. But they gain a couple of points for being the only thing in this outfit that really pops. They're sort of weird, but I can see the appeal of them standing out against the black vest, and being a pretty nice contrast that draws the eye.

5 / 10

Meh:

Time for the part of the post where I include 6 outfits that I just kind of don't have strong opinions on, mainly because they feel like pretty standard, decent outfits with no real reason to bat an eye at them.

The last image is saved on my computer as "are those your pajamas?" but. acceptable.

sure / 10

Dancy dance:

🧍‍♂️

I don't have much to say about this one other than, for some reason, the visual of him wearing tennis shoes makes me viscerally uncomfortable.

🤡 / 10

Elizabeth Holmes Chic:

He looks like a kid playing dress-up in their dad's giant overcoat, except someone let him go outside looking like this. I know oversized clothing items can be fashionable but here he's like drowning in it.

And then when he takes the coat off:

This maybe wouldn’t be a terrible outfit, it’s just so goddamn pretentious. He seems like he's trying to look like Steve Jobs, but ended up looking more like Elizabeth Holmes.

about to start another pyramid scheme / 10

Vacation dad (derogatory):

On someone else I might like this outfit, but on him it just looks so dumb. He looks like he's about to go skydiving with how much he's buttoned up. Better watch out or he could get carried away and spend 20 minutes unstrapping and unbuttoning it to reveal his fun little vacation shirt underneath! It's somehow stupidly formal and stupidly casual at the same time, and I just think it's a very silly little outfit. He's joining the army as penance for his fashion crimes. If you ask very very nicely he might tell you what's in his four huge, weirdly-placed pockets.

what's in the pockets / 10

And now.

We've arrived. We're finally here. The last one. The moment we've all been waiting for.

The worst of the worst:

I'll be honest, I don't really know where to start this one. There are too many things to choose from. Do I start with the weird asymmetrical pattern on the sleeves, with the red and blue stripes that aren't even made up of the same type of pattern?

Or maybe the fact that the buttons (and the piece of fabric they're attached to) ends too high above the neckline of the top layer?

Or we could talk about the fact that the top layer looks like one of those smocks you'd wear to get an x-ray at the dentist, made in a fabric that must have been rescued from the back of a fabric store after 50 years of not being bought.

I think by far the worst part is the length:

The fact that those strange little smock flaps go almost a foot past the zipper, halfway down to his knees. It swallows like 2/3rds of his body in this horrible block of grey fabric, and this man has the audacity to carry himself like it’s fashionable, instead of an assault on the senses. 

I want to set it on fire. I want to burn him along with it. I want to gently take his tailor aside and ask if Curtain held him at knife point and made him design this monstrosity. TEAR IT TO PIECES, GET IT OUT OF MY SIGHT, TURN IT INTO SCRAPS FOR SQ'S ART PROJECTS.

Anyway.

This outfit is such a menace to this world that I thought everyone should get a chance to tear it to shreds, so presenting, the communal roast:

“GROSS. SHUN.” -@mvshortcut

"prison chic. dentist x-ray chic. ugly." -@mysteriouseggsbenedict 

“the terrible zip up vest that just keeps on going fucked a potato sack” -@bi-demon-ium

“runway model for the most pretentious fashion designer who ever lived” - @sqenthusiast

“Trying to be casual but also Better Than You. The definition of 'you really thought you did something there'” -@echo-delta

“Child with one of those books where you can draw clothes over top the shape of a person” -@mysteriouseggsbenedict 

“Mr Curtain sir I don’t feel very happy looking at this. I think it’s a little counterproductive.” -@mvshortcut

Truly horrendous.

borrowing constance's acid to destroy the outfit and then clean the eyes of anyone who wants to forget they saw this monstrosity / 10

Thank you so much for coming on this journey with me, and as always, send the x-ray bib to hell.

[fleet-off]

Menagerie [3]

(previous parts: 0 | 1 | 2)

Macau used to feel invincible, idling down the street at his brother’s side. Within a certain radius of the mansion, people knew to wai respectfully and offer their due deference. Even farther afield, fear never crept in--nobody was going to hurt him with Vegas there. Macau learned to carry himself with loping bravado to match Vegas’s and convinced himself to take pride in the anxious looks they earned from passersby.

They were right to be anxious. If the world insisted on stomping them into the dirt, Macau had thought, then it had better learn to watch for their fangs. He and Vegas were the sons of the minor family. Just you try fucking with us.

They’re still getting sidelong glances, walking up the block towards the decal-decorated door of the pet supply store--but today it sets Macau’s teeth on edge. He shoves his hands in his pockets and curls his lip at anyone who dares meet his eyes.

Vegas seems a lot less bulletproof now that he’s been shot so many times.

“I remember agreeing to the rat,” Vegas says, shortly after the third pedestrian Macau glares into submission, “Remind me when I agreed to the second guard dog, would you? You’d think one was bad enough.”

“Who’s a guard dog,” Pete shoots back cheerfully two steps behind them, and Macau just about jumps out of his skin.

…It’s not like he forgot about Pete. Pete drove. Pete insisted on circling the building twice in midday traffic to scope entries and exits before they even parked. But once they got out of the parking garage, Pete fell in behind them and kind of became part of the scenery.

Fucking unsettling.

“Phi,” Macau complains with a glance over his shoulder, very chill and casual-like, “when’d you get good at going invisible? I feel like you’re gonna disappear. You used to be so shit at this.”

Pete’s smile is too loud for his face. “I always made a better guard than a spy.”

“Pete’s not invisible,” Vegas interjects. “Pete. I’m still injured, get up here.”

Crafty hia. Pete, who has a thing about being helpful, hurries to support Vegas with an arm about the waist. This puts him between Vegas and Macau and--as a bonus--lets Vegas sneak a hand into the small of his back.

Unfortunately, they stand out even more as a cluster. Macau finds his next stare-down in an stooped man with a cane and too many amulets around his neck.

It would help, he thinks, if the three of them didn’t make such a clash of opposing aesthetics. Vegas draws the most attention, but making Vegas look less like a snazzy villain on a murder mystery dinner cruise was always a lost cause--he genuinely can’t help being designed for smoky backrooms and dramatic mood lighting. It’s a hell of a lot easier to match his energy.

Pete, remarkably unremarkable in jeans and a t-shirt loose enough to hide the gun in his waistband, apparently missed that memo. Pete doesn’t have a ton of clothes, but he knows how to layer his wardrobe to his advantage and style his hair when he wants to look good.

Maybe he’s just ashamed to be seen with them in public.

Macau wishes for invincibility. He wishes he could hold his head high, taunt the world with their continued presence in it. He wishes he could roll up into a ball and take Vegas and Pete with him. He wishes, shamefully, that he were alone.

It’s a relief to escape into the cheerful narrow aisles of the pet supply store. The store cat, a chunky grey tabby, makes a beeline for Pete. Macau uses the distraction to grab a basket and slip into the stacks of multicolored toy mice and gleaming metal dishes.

He picks his way through the rodent cages, drops a couple puzzle toys in his basket, and runs his hands down the rungs of the tiny animal-sized ladders in the back. He finds Pete again at the end of a display of tunnels and rodent toys, one eye on their surroundings and the other on the cat rubbing up against his legs. He has an empty basket on his arm and resigned concern at the corners of his mouth.

A few steps down the aisle, Vegas stands immobile. He’s staring at a bright blue box labeled in bubbly English letters, “Plastic pipe pet toy: 39 inches of tunneling fun!” Indecision makes war across the plains of his face, regret and a torn sort of longing.

It’s a bit silly, because Macau’s heard whispers about the time his brother pulled the intestines out of a guy’s body and didn’t let him die (with a sick sort of pride, that Vegas is the best at what he does). Macau doesn’t have an instinctive handle on how long 39 inches is, but he’s pretty sure intestines are way longer.

And now the mafia’s favorite butcher is making tormented eyes at a box of plastic.

Macau understands, maybe better than anyone. Gun was his father, too. He strolls up and nudges against Vegas’s arm.

“Hey, bro,” he says. “Tunneling fun, huh?”

Vegas snorts, shifting seamlessly into languid nonchalance. “Just glancing around. Are you finding anything you like?”

Macau taps his basket. “I scouted out the place,” he replies. “Bet the stuff I pick for our rat’s gonna be way more kickass than the stuff you find.”

“Oh, you wanna bet?” Vegas raises his eyebrows.

Macau grins. “I’m souping this thing up to the fuckin’ nines. Nobody’s gonna stop us.”

“Brat,” Vegas says, but he’s smiling back now. He switches to Thai. “Pete’s on my team.”

No more hedgehogs in bird cages. No more accusations of softness, no more pretending a pet is a task and not a living thing. Vegas takes the tunnel off the shelf and sets it decisively in Pete’s basket. Macau lets out a whoop loud enough to send the cat packing. Pete plays up his put-out sigh, but there’s a new bounce in his step.

They loot the store for all the toys that will fit in the trunk, plus an extra bag of treats once Vegas pulls his dumb “nice establishment you’ve got here” routine on the cashier. This works, even though his energy’s visibly flagging. Pete’s ears are pink when he sets the bags down beside the door to the store.

He kisses Vegas’s cheek, hand brushing with what seems like unexpected daring against his hip until Macau realizes he’s just checking for his gun, and tells them he’ll bring the car around.

Vegas opens the GPS app on his phone to watch him go.

“‘Real shame if something happened to this lovely little shop’--you did that to impress P’Pete, didn’t you?” Macau says out the side of his mouth. “That was cringe as fuck, bro.”

Vegas leans his weight against the wall, smiling crookedly. “Worked, didn’t it?”

“I’m gonna tell him.”

“Trust me, he knows.”

They drive home with their trunk full of supplies, and then they gather in Macau’s room and set up the enclosure together--Pete and Macau bent around the cage, Vegas on Macau’s bed issuing directions and making a solid effort not to get cranky about it.

There’s no unified theme, and the colors are all over the place; sleek blacks and reds mingle with natural greens and jungle browns and oranges. Pete’s selections don’t even follow a color scheme--he just thinks the toys designed to look like human furniture are maybe the funniest thing he’s ever seen. (And Macau does not raise his eyebrows at that, not even a little.)

The color scheme is wonky, but this rat cage gets completely decked out. It is dope as shit, a multi-story luxury rat mansion. It has tunnels and bridges and shelves and all the hideaways a critter could want. Shreddables and puzzles strewn about the place. A little rat living room with a rat-sized couch and coffee table. An arguably fake skull to hang out in. Cozy bedding for days.

Macau curls their expandable 39-inch blue plastic tunnel between the hammock and the food dish. Vegas pretends he isn’t touched.

The sanctuary they make of Macau’s room that evening feels tenuous, transient in a way that tightens his chest--but somehow brighter for its fragility. The three of them sit and watch for nearly an hour as their rat explores this home they’ve built for it from all their disparate parts.

(next part here)