#they're cute but the lead up is unbearable at times

[fics-n-stuff]

Jeremiah is so emotionally mature in s2 he honestly almost doesn't fit in. Belly is so chaotic and often self centred, and Conrad is so petty and immature, that Jeremiah being a normal person makes him look like a saint.

[cinnamonest]

Thinking about the humiliation ritual of being spread apart and gawked at. Just… looking, touching. Nothing intense or rough, even though you almost wish it was, anything other than this torment.

It's uncomfortable physically, not just mentally. Your wrists and ankles bound to the headboard, your legs pulled so far back your knees nearly touch your shoulders, spread wide open as you writhe on your back.

The lights are on. They're bright. They leave nothing obscured from view, nowhere to hide from any sense of shame.

You wish you were blindfolded, so you at least didn't have to see the scene playing out in front of you. But unfortunately, he decided your mouth was the only thing that had to be covered, leaving you unable to spew any spiteful words at him, only able to make the little sounds he enjoys with each touch.

You see how intensely he stares at you, completely exposed and vulnerable. You can trace the line of his sight, clearly distinguish each part of your body his eyes progressive fixate on, one after another. He likes how you squirm, how you're so clearly embarrassed, but so helpless to do anything about it.

It would be easier if he was doing something more. It would feel less vulnerable if he were inside you, even, the movement and heat of the moment at least creating a sort of distraction, interruption from the violation of his gaze.

Said gaze fixates on you breasts, the darker coloration, the way your nipples poke out so cutely from the chill of the exposure. You tense up and shudder when he pinches at them. Cute.

You shudder when he spreads you apart with his thumbs. Somewhere between fascination and arousal and awe. He just hasn't ever had the opportunity to see it up close, he says. To really take in the details.

Him feeling the need to comment makes it even more unbearable. The folds and the shape of it all, it's really pretty, aesthetic in a way that's difficult to articulate, he says. Feels like it's some sort of adornment, leading down to the slit — he says this as you feel his thumb slide into you, marveling at the way he can see you clench and spasm. He never realized how visible the clenching is, he's usually got his head down close to the crook of your neck when he's balls deep in you. He'll have to pay more attention from now on.

Look at how the fleshy part of your hips pokes out between his fingers when he grabs you. The way you shudder when his fingers trail over the folds — and the slick fluid that forms a trail connecting each finger as he spread them apart in front of your face. Just to make sure you get a good look at what your body is doing.

But beyond the fingers spread in front of your face, you can see that smug grin on his face, one that fills you with such rage that you can't help the tears that leak out of your eyes, can't help but snarl and jerk at the restraint, even though you know such a reaction only pleases him, encourages him.

And it does — you see the smile get wider, the soft laugh before he leans forward and kisses your forehead… and then, you jolt as you feel the awful wet sensation on the side of your face as he wipes the fingers off on your flesh, coating you with your own fluids.

You actually jerk your leg to the side hard enough to get a good heel-bash on his shoulder — but that too only makes him smile further.

What an wonderful new way to torment you, he's discovered. Your reactions only ensure that this won't be the only time.

[little-miss-dilf-lover]

Listen, i have way more Peter Quill ideas if you’ll allow me-

Can we get one where the reader is super horny for Peter but she doesn’t really want to say anything because they keep getting interrupted by the other guardians (like Mantis, Rocket or Groot needing something) and it happens multiple times until the reader just pushes Peter aside and they start making out. 😂

It can be full smut or just end wherever you want it I’m not picky…but i wouldn’t turn down smut👀 it can also be gender neutral i don’t care, thanks Love! ����

~Bear🐻

hii again sweetheart!! of course, send them in at anytime:) love love it, I was nice I wrote smut🤭 thank you for requesting, hope you like it💌

storage room rendezvous

Peter Quill x f reader

wc || 1.3k

warnings || 18+ only sexually explicit content minors dni

masterlist + rules

taglist

Being confined to the Bowie during long-haul missions often meant there wasn't much space or privacy, never having the luxury of a moment's silence without getting interrupted by one of the other guardians. You and Peter had recently started dating, so the amount of need you had for him was unbearable. You wanted him all the time.    

Rocket had to do an emergency landing on some random planet, twenty-something jump points away from Knowhere so he could tinker. So that left you and the rest of the crew stranded on the ship until the issue resolved. 

Waltzing your way over to the front of the ship, hands cutely laced together as you joined Quill in the captain seat, sitting across his lap. "Whatcha doing?" you question, making yourself comfortable. 

"Taking my seat before Rocket gets back," he chuckles, placing his hand on your thigh, adjusting you as he pulls you closer. "He ain't gonna like it," grinning at the thought. "What's up?" he asks, kissing your shoulder.

"Bored," you say slowly, your tone speckled with suggestion. 

"Bored, huh?" he repeats, his tone matching yours. "What'd ya wanna do?" he asks, already knowing what you're thinking, waiting for you to admit it.

"I did have one idea..." you hint, lightly trailing down his chest. "Oh, god!" you jump, lowering your face to the nape of Peter's neck. "Don't do that."

"What?" Quill questions, his eyes concerned as he follows your initial gaze. "God, Drax. How long you been there?" 

"Since we landed," Drax responds matter-of-factly, pulling a rustly bag from his pocket.

"That was an hour ago." You chime in, poking your head up to look at him. 

Shrugging simply. "Yeah... Zarg-Nut?" He offers, shaking the bag between you both.

Quill extends his hand over the back of the seat, cupping his palm towards Drax. "What?" he chuckles at your displeased expression, shoving a handful of the dried snack into his mouth. "I'm hungry."

"You are unbelievable," you playfully scoff, avoiding his green eyes. 

"Hi, guys." The soft voice of Mantis appears next to Drax. "Oh, can I have one?" She asks, nodding to the bag in his hand.

"They're all gone," Drax replies before pouring the contents into his mouth.

"I am Groot."

"Okay!" you say finally, clapping your hands together once. You loosen from Peter's grip as you stand up, lacing your hand into his as you lead him away from the group. "Come with me."

"Where we going?" Quill questions, following after you, his hand gripped into yours.

"Shut up," you whisper, leading him through the corridors as you search for a suitable storage room.

"You want me, don't ya?" he smugly asks, briskly walking to catch up with your long strides.

Poking your head through door gaps. "Yeah, now shut-up,"

He playfully chuckles, his tone full of assurance. "Knew it," snickering.

"Here's one," you mouth, dragging Peter into the empty room, forcefully shutting the door behind him.

You immediately attach your lips to his, ravenous and starved, desperately tugging at his t-shirt. He separates, his head hung low as he assesses your eyes. "Whoa, whoa, whoa... ain't even locked the door." He smirks, reaching behind to twist the lock. 

Quill loved when you needed him, loved seeing you desperate. He loved when you were verbal, telling him what you wanted, but not right now. He wanted the control and leadership he craved. 

He lightly trails his hand up your throat, grazing higher before cupping around your jaw, grasping the side of your face to bring you in. He instantly clashes his hungry mouth with yours, rolling and licking over your soft lips while his other hand travels behind your head to pull you closer. The need grows more urgent as his hands roam you, loosening the grip on your jaw to travel down to your throat. He holds it as he controls and deepens the kiss, pushing you back up and against the wall.

"What do you want?" he breathlessly asks against your lips, a wry grin looming. 

"You," you shakily reply, snaking your hands around his back, gripping the hem of his tee. 

"Yeah?" he softy whispers, entertaining you.

He slips his hand under your ass, cupping over the cheeks as he manhandles you, eagerly kneading the doughy flesh between his fingers. 

Sliding his palms up, they rest and clasp around your waist, kissing you in desperation as he squeezes you, grinding his clothed groin into yours.

He picks you up, holding you under your thighs as he walks you over to the stacked storage containers in the corner, placing you down atop them. His fingers snake into your waistband, immediately palming over your wet pussy, teasing your clit as his spare hand slides into his waistband. Lightly gripping his hardened cock and pulling himself out of his pants, firmly stroking up the length. 

You eagerly squirm out of your pants, letting them slide down your thighs and hang around your boots, draping from your ankles as you wrap your knees around his hips, bringing him closer. He yanks down his pants and boxers before sliding his tip through your folds, collecting your arousal around his shaft. "Fuck," he mutters at the contact, momentarily throwing his neck back.

He spits in his palm, rubbing the saliva over his veins to lube himself up as he adjusts you, bringing your hips forward. He pushes his head through your folds, slipping through the slick flesh as you both watch in anticipation. Needy whimpers fill the dingy room.

Gripping at his base, he eases into you. Slowly sliding his tip in as he attaches his mouth to yours, catching and muffling your initial moan. His hands graze up your back, holding you close as he sinks further into you, melting around his every inch. You bury your face in the crook of his neck, whining and mumbling against his warm skin as you adjust to his girth, clutching at his biceps. "Oh, God," muttering, his eyes screwing shut.

He kisses the side of your neck, lightly nibbling and suckling the skin as he slides in and out of you, moulding around him as he fucks into you. Completely filling you with every hasty wind of his hips, rolling into you as he chases after the high.

He grows desperate and demanding as he pushes into you. Massaging inside you, rubbing over your g-spot with the upper side of his cock, fucking into the areas you needed. He finally attaches his lips to yours, swallowing your open moans and whimpers as he groans into your mouth. Slipping in his tongue every once in a while.

You felt the overwhelming build of the high consume you, aimlessly whining against his lips as you felt yourself get closer. You convulse around him, sucking him in further in with every jolt. 

"Can I come in you?" he shakily asks, resting his forehead against yours. "Please- fuck," he mutters, closing his eyes like he's holding himself off. 

You eagerly nod, wrapping your legs tighter around him, crossing your ankles as you keep him glued to you. Desperately clawing at his back as you let go. Quill pulsates for the final time before spilling his load deep into you, senselessly whimpering in one another's mouth as you both reach your long-awaited release. The room full of hot shaky moans.

He gingerly drags himself from you, watching the connecting strings of his cum as he pulls out. He bends to the floor, pulling up his pants before doing the same with yours, holding your hand as he helps you down from the containers. Keeping you balanced, chuckling at your stumbly footing. 

"I'll uh... I'll, um," you stutter, momentarily closing your eyes as you think of the words. "I'll join you out there in a few minutes... don't make it obvious," you grin, reaching up to kiss him tenderly, playfully slapping his ass as he turns away.

Turning around with a faux displeased expression, head cocking. "I'll tell 'em," he warns with a raised brow and boyish smirk. "Don't think I won't..." teasing you. 

Grinning with raised hands as if to symbolise your innocence. "I'll see you in two minutes... Quial."

[wynnyfryd]

Trailer park Steve AU part 47

part 1 | part 46 | ao3

cw: recreational drinking; fatal levels of fluffy idiocy

They make their way over to the kitchen, where Eddie snags them two cans of beer off the counter — warm, but unopened, which is really as much as you can hope for at a house party by this time of night.

Steve doesn't mind, anyway. Doesn't want Eddie's hands to be cold.

"You think you're good to step outside for a few minutes?" he asks, tugging at the hem of Eddie's leather jacket. The black hoodie he has layered underneath. They're not nearly thick enough for an extended stroll through the two-inch blanket of snow outside, but he's hoping it'll do for just a few minutes.

Eddie cracks his beer with a grin. "Why? You wanna have a snowball fight?"

"Something like that."

Eddie follows him out back, down the slope of the lawn toward the property's edge. Away from the rest of the party until theirs are the only footprints in the powdery sheet of fresh snow.

It's bright out tonight. Moonlight bounces so fully off the white canvas that Steve doesn't even need to use a flashlight, and Eddie's pale skin shines; dazzles in the moonglow, all shimmer and sparkle and so utterly alive, his limbs in constant motion to keep the cold out of his bones. He's taking these big exaggerated hop-steps, shaking the snow from his shoes with each lift, compressing the fluff beneath his feet with each heavy stomp down so it doesn't creep into the eyelets of his boots and wet his socks.

Steve's gonna thrift him a new jacket. A big, puffy one, he decides. New boots, too, next chance he gets; gonna wrap him up in a big knitted scarf and crocheted mittens and a hat with a silly little pompom on top. He'd look cute like that, all bundled up. Warm and safe.

"What are you smiling so big for?"

"No reason," Steve smiles wider with a shrug. He doesn't bother trying to explain himself, 'cause he never sounds half as eloquent out loud as he thinks he does in his head; shit gets all jumbled up on the way out of his mouth, but he just thinks, "You look cute."

Eddie stops short. "Excuse you!" he squawks, one foot still hovering in the air. Arms out wide to keep his balance on one leg. "I am not cute."

"Uh huh," Steve licks his lip. Your eyes are bigger than the moon and your cheeks get all pink when you're offended, but sure. You're not cute. "Whatever you say."

"That's right," Eddie insists. He sticks his nose up in the air with a little hmph! noise. "I'm mean and big and scary, and you like doing what I say."

"Also true," Steve agrees.

Eddie's face comes back down, expression softening into something sickeningly sweet; desperately so, almost unbearable to look at.

Steve's heart squeezes hard enough in his chest to bruise his lungs.

"Where are you taking us, anyway?"

"Not much further," Steve says. The party’s on a cul-de-sac that backs up to Maple, to Tommy’s old street — weird, considering how much newer and nicer this neighborhood is compared to Tommy's, but that's how all of Hawkins is. The zones stacked on top of each other, new money swooping in and taking over them like kudzu.

In between the neighborhoods there’s a stretch of untouched woods: old trees and tall grass, brambles and dark mulch and the remains of reedy stalks, and through the center of it all runs a massive, winding storm drain. Like the bones of a concrete snake, blanketed by moss and leaves and snow.

Steve and Tommy used to play here. Used to perch where the drain pipe let out to a shallow open groove; dangle their legs over the edge and pretend they were sitting on a lake dock instead of sweating their asses off in the woods beyond Tommy’s yard.

“This one year,” Steve says as he leads Eddie toward the spot, pausing to hold a branch back so it doesn't pop them in the face. “There was this, like- this crazy flood, and the water got so high that we could almost splash our feet in it from the top of the pipe.”

He points out the drain in question. It’s smaller than he remembers; comes up to maybe shoulder height, but it used to be huge. Used to be that he could stand up in the opening and spread his arms out wide and only just scrape the tips of his fingers against the gritty walls.

Now it looks like he’d tweak his back trying to hunch over to crawl in. Guess he was a lot smaller than he remembers then, too.

"Okay..." Eddie says as he takes wide steps toward it, eyeing the curve of snowy concrete. "I can't tell if this is secluded in a romantic way, or if this is just some creepy Stephen King shit."

Before Steve can so much as roll his eyes, Eddie gasps and spins on his heel; snow spraying under his feet, eyes impossibly wide. "Oh, my fucking god," he breathes.

It puts Steve on high alert. "What is it?" he asks as he steps in close; gets Eddie by the elbows, backs him up against the side of the pipe and uses himself as a shield so he can look over his shoulder and scan the undergrowth. Is there an animal out here? Something worse? Did Eddie see something? "What-?"

When he turns back around, Eddie's clamping his lips shut so tight it looks like it hurts. "I just realized..."

His nostrils flare as a snort escapes him.

Oh, goddammit. Steve thought it was something serious! He slouches in relief, letting his hands slip around Eddie's waist; underneath his jacket, to the dip at the small of his back. "Yes?" he sighs, prompting Eddie to spill whatever's got him trying so hard not to laugh.

"Your- your name is Stephen."

Uh. "Yeah?" What the hell...? "I mean, it's Steven with a V, but- yeah?"

Another giggle breaks free. "And- and you're The King."

"...Oh, my god."

He's so stupid. He is so fucking stupid. Eddie's snickering so hard it's making his nose wrinkle up, his whole face flushed a brilliant pink, and there are fireworks going off in the neighborhoods all around them; Steve can hear the countdowns starting, the muted chorus over the hills, people shouting 'ten! nine! eight!' and Eddie's so fucking tickled he can barely get his words out.

"Baby," he gasps as the crowds chant four! and three! "You're Stephen King."

Two!

Steve has to kiss him.

One!

Has to kiss him and never stop.

"You're an idiot, Eddie Munson," he smiles against laughing lips, and their tongues meet in the middle as they ring the new year in.

—

part 48

tag list in separate reblogs under '#trailer park steve au taglist' if you'd like to filter that content. if you want to be added please comment and let me know (must be over 21; please either verify in the comment or have your age visible on your blog)

[yenonnoff]

TEACH ME HOW TO LOVE! 30. 10 things i hate about you

masterlist ⌒☆ previous ⌒☆ next

fun facts:

the term sakusa is looking for is the proximity principle. i had to whip out my psychology notebook for this one.

atsumu bought the groceries! of course he asked y/n beforehand what she wanted to eat and checked in with osamu for tips/recipes/ingredients. y/n surprised him with the snacks :D

shimizu is always making homecooked meals so y/n doesn't cook often. she just strolls down the hall and into shimizu's condo to have dinner together. that's why she went over to borrow certain cookware ++ her lack of cooking skills.

y/n likes buying cute slippers for her place. she's bought everyone a pair so that they'll be comfortable when they're over. the ugly shrek slippers, the ones that look like the grinch and an alien gave birth to him, were from a white elephant exchange. guess who was the one that bought it (extreme difficulty because it could be all four of them)

cooking - atsumu: 1 y/n: 0

baking - atsumu: 0 y/n: -1

gaming - atsumu: 0 y/n: 1!!!

don't underestimate y/n, she's been trained to be good at all sorts of games. she plays with extremely competitive and sly people (kuroo the shameless cheater, shoyo the "i didn't understand the rules!" kenma the "that was a practice round"), so she has to be extra careful.

shimizu is an angel, she doesn't cheat. however, if y/n asks her to form an alliance, there's a 88% chance she'll say yes.

TEACH ME HOW TO LOVE! ｡ｏ♡ an atsumu miya smau

synopsis: when y/n l/n, a rising actress, decides to star in a romance film that could make or break her career, she’s unable to showcase her skills, revealing her inexperience within the romance department instead. worst of all, atsumu miya, her co-star and the main lead’s love interest, seems to hate her guts! with absolutely, unbearably zero chemistry between the two, an idea was proposed: spend time with one another in the upcoming weeks. will y/n be able to ignore her professionalism and listen to her heart? and will she, a clueless romantic, be able to pick up on the signs her co-star is sending her?

a/n: sorry for the long fun facts i love making up silly scenarios !! this was supposed to be a written chapter but i threw that idea out the window (phew) i was gonna say the two of them were listening to daniel caesar while cooking etc. but his songs are too romantic the tension would've been crazy !!!!

taglist is open! dm or ask to be a part of it! (those bolded were unable to be tagged)

⌒☆ @kqbukimono @empathum @clyver @chosoluv @oceansfloor @sunarots @marga-j @rukia-uchiha-98 @wyrcan @thechaosoflonging @rintarousgirl @ast4rg1rl @seiamor @saiewithakatana @usermins @literally-a-ferret @terrarain @iuspired @haruskatana @wolffmaiden @ris-krispie @vellichxrr6782 @animenaces-world @reignsaway @emii4evr @writing-for-the-hell-of-it @yuminako @tojirin @v3nusplanetofluv @vyvixen @secondary-character-25 @tenjikusstuff4 @444choso @mylahrins @deimmortales99 @hisfuture @staywhelmed8801 @dl-yum @nessaasstuff @milesmoralesluvs @101tsumu @ryeyeyer @cherrypieyourface @azharyy @mimi3lover @stayyyyyyyyyyyy21 @dazball @whykirbo @r0seandth0rns @localgaytrainwreck @miyamoratsumuu @zephestia @luvvmae

[phyrestartr]

HOUND pt.2 | Miguel x M!Reader

Geneticist!Miguel x Guard!Reader Part 2 W/C: 2.7k | Part 2 of 2

#NSFW, zombie AU, apocalypse AU, mentions of exploitation and abuse, body horror, gore, immoral research and experiments, power imbalance, reader is a criminal, miguel is a scientist, dark themes, part 2 ends on a positive note, reader is morally grey, bottom!miguel, top!reader, sorry there's lore lol

Note: AAAAH ok it's done and now I can struggle to finish my other fics instead asjdkf;weiafjf

--

Miguel couldn’t recall what happened after that. The noises outside the door, the wet sloshing of viscera and pained outcries echoed faintly in the black corners of his mind, but nothing else. Nothing about how he got out of that room. Nothing about what had attacked him. Nothing about where you had gone. 

The mystery led him to reviewing the footage. The security cameras were set in each room, only to be accessed in times where someone was suspected to be infected and other suspicious situations. He found the moments leading up to everything, the moment you pushed him against the wall, when you started taking off the vest, when you threw Miguel into the bathroom and forced the door closed with brute strength. 

What followed was unbearable. The thing, now confirmed to have been one of your kind, rippled with overwhelming, excruciating power. You couldn’t square up with it fairly, but you were smart and fast, hitting when it really counted and pulling the trigger only when you knew it’d strike true. But the problem was its objective; the entire fight, Miguel realized, was a contest for the bathroom door. The monster didn’t care about you. You weren’t its target. It was going for him.

But it didn’t show you any mercy. It tore chunks out of you, shattered your ribs, broke whatever part of you it touched until you’d put it down for good with a full mag into its soft, melted skull. You staggered backwards, feeling behind you for the cool touch of the door before you collapsed against it, trying to stay standing despite it all. It was hard to watch. To see someone suffering and still fighting the good fight even though they’d already lost in order to win. 

You eventually crumbled and held what was left of your stomach and chest as you heaved in air. Loud sounds, like a wooden train whistle, hissed through the gaps left between your exposed ribs and the holes in your tattered lungs time after time, breath after breath, up until the EMTs arrived; you scrambled to get up, nearly spilling your guts and breaking off a leg before a tranquilizer hit you, and put you down. 

After that, you’d been carted off, and Miguel stepped out of the bathroom moments later, shaken and confused. Gabe showed up, thank God, and the thing that’d started all the bullshit was dead, but he couldn’t help the lingering tendrils of paranoia stitching the muscles taut in his shoulders. Then, and now. 

He needed to see you for himself. 

“Listen, listen, it’s suuuper nice that you suddenly have a weak spot for the guy, it’s really cute, but we haveta set you up with a different one for now–”

“What?” Miguel cut in while Lyla spun in her chair and fixed her obnoxious sunnies. “Why do–they heal. I don’t want any other–”

“Yep, yep, yep, I totally get it, but he’s reaaal messed up. He’s gonna take some time to fix ‘n heal and everything, yenno?” Lyla spun around again in a full 360 before coming back to face Miguel and point her pen at him. “If he’s too hard to fix, then they were thinking of scrapping him for parts and testing and everything.” 

Scrapped. For parts. 

“They won’t scrap him.” Miguel frowned. “He’s the best host we have. The most successful specimen the whole fucking project's made.” 

“Uh, yeah, and that's why they're gonna do their best to save him.” She tilted her head, curious. “No one wants to kill a good dog, y'know.” 

It was true. No one wanted to rid Alchemax of one who was dedicated enough to put their life in jeopardy for the sake of protecting their charge. He didn't expect you to go this far. No one did. 

–

It took weeks for you to be reinstated as Miguel's watchdog. In the interim, he was appointed a new guard, but life didn’t feel right. He supposed that bonds and trust played into the feeling more than he'd like to admit. Sure, the two of you hadn't really spoken before that day, but you'd been with each other for years. Silently learning about one another, measuring each other's capacity to be trustworthy. 

So with a new dog, Miguel felt unnerved, maybe even a bit unsteady. It had been one of them who'd snapped, after all. One of them lost their minds and went on a rampage–which was exactly what the current meeting was about. 

“No one saw it coming,” one said. “We didn't think it would happen, and that's the problem, isn't it?” 

“Weeell, things are bound to go awry here and there.” Olivia shrugged and crossed her arms. “It's part of science! I'd say this whole drama has given us some pretty good results on the extremes; one imploded and started eating people, and the other one exploded trying to save one of us.” 

“Still think we should scrap O'hara's mutt for parts,” Aaron interjected, unhelpful and annoying as ever. “Who knows when that one'll blow too, hey?” 

Miguel ignored Aaron. He wouldn’t feed into his prodding and pushing. “He's mine. I decide when he's too dangerous.”

“You sure you're not gonna be blinded by feelings, O'hara?” Aaron spat with an ugly smile. “I saw the footage. You–” 

“Oh my God, don't act like you don't try to fuck everyone else's guards,” another scientist groaned. “You're probably why one snapped.” 

Aaron's face blistered red. Miguel smirked, enjoying the show, enjoying the fact that no one was on the idiot's side. It was the apocalypse. Fucking mutants was the least of their worries. 

Stone, exasperated, called it there, and everyone dispersed. Miguel took his time with his thoughts in the silence of the room. The lack of people around him sparked a jolt of adrenaline, or maybe fear, and sent his train of thought off the rails and into something ungodly. He hated being alone these days. He couldn't bear the thought of being the last man standing, of having to fend for himself after everything. Not that he would have to, no, not unless your replacement did him in, or–

“Sir?” 

Miguel turned and nearly knocked his chair off its wheels. He clutched the desk in a panic just before his eyes landed on you. 

You looked different. Streaks of faint scars painted the side of your face where an eyepatch hid away whatever wreckage laid beneath. A metal brace hugged one of your knees and dripped down into a glittering, high-tech prosthetic limb that told a story Miguel didn't want to indulge in. And you looked tired. So tired. Your voice, once something rough like sandpaper, now sounded like shattered glass grinding underfoot.

But you still had that placid, somewhat judgemental stare that told him, I'm alright.

Your brows raised expectantly, like your return didn't need to be celebrated and you'd much rather like to get on with your day of following Miguel around like a lost puppy. He could relate, and he could comply. 

–

Acting normal until getting you into his new quarters was tough; Miguel had the inexplicable urge to touch you, see your skin, feel your heat singe his palms, but he wouldn't do it in the eye of the others, no. Not for his own decency, but because they didn't deserve it. You were all his. 

Miguel was sure to lock the doors and initiate an armoured lockdown to ease his paranoia before he turned to you with a demand on his tongue: “Strip.” 

You quirked a brow. “This didn't go so well last time.” But you complied, clearly trying to hide away your amusement.

“It's fine. We're fine.” He helped you pull the vest and the shirt off just like he did all those weeks ago, but now with more finesse and determination; he wanted his do-over, and he was going to get it. “I need to see for myself.” 

“Whatever.” You rolled your shoulders once your bare skin hit the air and prickled with goosebumps. Even the lifeless spots with angry reddened scars recoiled from the sharp nip, and then the heat of Miguel's touch.

He dragged his gaze all over you, drinking in the ruined expanses of skin with hungry eyes. Every new mark was examined, every stitch and bandage touched and committed to memory, every bruise earned the softest graze of fingertips. It was hard not to be enticed with one another in that tense, long silence. 

Miguel's eyes lingered on your split lip before meeting your eyes, reading whatever he could from you. But he didn't expect what you said. 

“You get hurt?” You grumbled. 

Miguel shook his head lightly, his attention unwavering as his hands made themselves useful and plucked loose the buttons on your cargos again. “I'm fine.” He pulled the zipper down next. The muscles of your abdomen rippled against the palm keeping you still. “Sore from you throwing me, but fine.” 

The corner of your mouth twitched. “If you'd listened and moved–” your next words dissolved against the brutish lips colliding with yours. Miguel's hands slipped further below and palmed your soft cock through the thin material of your undergarments; apparently you weren't surprised by the candid dick grab, but the kiss of all things threw you for a loop. Miguel moved to leaving marks along your neck while your brain scrambled to make sense of the random affection. 

“What the fuck are you doing?” You breathed, unsure of where to touch or what to do with your hands.

“Picking up where we left off.” Miguel squeezed your filling bulge again, eagerly massaging you in encouragement to get things going. His ego swelled when your hand found his shoulder after a particularly weak spot was found.

“Hah. I shouldn't be–” 

“You'll manage,” he insisted, watching you like prey trying to woo its predator. “You probably haven't been touched like this in a while, si, guapo?” Your hips jolted against his hand while his husky voice drew you in. “Bed. Now.” 

You didn't have much of a choice, not when Miguel's needy hands guided you to the soft sheets and forced you to lay down. You were just in the middle of a sore groan when Miguel pulled your waistband down just enough to free your hardened cock, and give you a fierce dose of whiplash between the pain of healing wounds and the bliss of hands on you.

For all of Miguel’s want, now that he was this far, he wasn’t sure where to take it. He was going to make you cum, obviously, but how would he go about it? Handjob, blowjob, actually taking it up the ass? Some were obviously more impactful than others, so–

“Christ, alright, now that you’ve played with my dick, we can put it away for today, Doc,” you grouched, sitting up to pull Miguel’s hand away. “I’m too tired for this shit.”

“Wh–no.” He swatted your hand away like a petulant child and shot you an equally childish glare. “You have to obey my orders, as far as I recall.”

Something akin to a deadpan hit your face. “You’re fucking joking. You’re gonna pull that shit now?”

“You’re my subordinate,” Miguel reminded, not bothering to hide his smug demeanor and faux innocence. “Act like it.” 

Before you could bitch back, he started stroking you firmly and slowly, squeezing harder near the tip and base with every motion. You stopped complaining surprisingly fast–Miguel almost wanted you to fight him more, but, maybe for a first run, your utter compliance would serve him. He wasn’t sure if he’d be able to hold you down or fend off your grabby hands while, at the same time, trying to get a handle on how to properly please another man. 

Just when you sounded like you were about to object again, he took you into his mouth, and shut you up. At that moment, Miguel was glad you were touch-starved. Otherwise, the inexperienced gags and hefty strings of saliva connecting his lush lips to your throbbing length would’ve surely shortened Miguel’s lifespan. He was supposed to be good in bed. He was good in bed. And he’d make damn sure to continue being good in bed with another man. 

Your hand fisting in his well-kempt hair had him growling with warning, thinking you were going to try to make him stop, but one glance up at you through teary lashes washed that thought away; your eyes were shut, bottom lip caught between your lip and welling with the faintest bit of blood from those elongated canines of yours. A kinder shade of crimson painted your cheeks and the bridge of your nose a sweet summer colour that seemed to darken more when Miguel bravely slipped you down his throat and up again. 

“Shit. Fuck. Shit.” You let go of his hair with a pathetic whimper and collapsed onto your back, hands reaching back to claw into the wall and headboard to try and expel your rattling energy someway, somehow. The grating of metal and long, deep marks left in your claws’ wake would piss Miguel off any other day, but right now, your destructive praise fed his ego until it threatened to burst. 

But a slight shift from the scientist and a misplaced hand on the convergence of flesh and metal shook up the easy rhythm. You hissed and sat up, reflexively snatching his hand away from your leg with barbed fingers. Miguel pulled off of you with a choked yelp rattling in his throat as your hold drew blood, and like a dog who'd bit another too hard, you let go. 

“Shit, I didn't mean to–” you stopped yourself, though, and instead took Miguel's hand with a less-lethal touch. You looked at the wound before leaning down and running the flat of your tongue against the wound once, twice, thrice. The pain subsided quickly after, leaving behind a tingly, sparking feeling. “Doesn’t look too bad.” Miguel watched your nostrils flare and pupils dilate–clearly, his blood was having an effect on you. And that fact was having an effect on Miguel, in turn. 

The apology for hurting you was long forgotten by the time Miguel leaned up and kissed you, holding the side of your face with his wounded hand. He pushed hard against the tip of your fang until spongy flesh gave way, and the vile tang of blood pooled in his mouth, and now in yours. 

You moaned, or maybe growled, and Miguel’s hips jerked. He worked on slipping his weeping tongue around your mouth while his good hand continued his work on your stiffy, eager to finish you off while you were distracted. Your hands clutched at him again, claws still nipping into his skin and clothes, but more like a cat kneading its owner rather than a lion latching onto prey. 

But those barbs sunk deep into him when you came. Your hold on him tightened, and the low growls reverberating through your body crescendoed into a few, cherished moans when your lips left his as rapture hit you. Miguel spared a look down at the mess you’d made, but too quickly his gaze returned to the bobs of your Adam’s apple, the muscles pulsing and tensing in the aftershocks, the sheen of red coating your cracked lips. It was enough to make him come undone, untouched by you, only fulfilled by the rub of cotton on his hardened cock.

And of course, you noticed it right away. Ugh. “You’re a freak,” you scoffed out between breaths. “Fucking–cumming from, what? Getting your pet off?” 

Miguel rolled his eyes to betray his embarrassment, and squeezed you hard at the base to pull one last mean, choked groan out of you. “Callate. You could try being grateful, hm?”

“Don’t think that’s in my programming.” You leaned back and looked down at the mess. “Who’s gonna clean this up, Doc?” You prodded looking up at him through your lashes. 

Miguel’s intrigue piqued. “Here I thought you were too tired,” he mocked. 

“Might change your mind tomorrow. Oughta cash in while I can.” 

“Hm.” Miguel let go and leaned back, shaky fingers working on his own clothes. “Guess I can give you another treat.”

But, as fate would have it, one more go of it turned into five, and left him half-alive come the morning.

[stitching-in-time]

Voyager rewatch s2 ep25: Resolutions

Holy crap, I didn't remember that this one was so early on in the show! I thought it must have been somewhere in the middle, with at least a few previous shippy episodes to kind of set it up, but no! We just get dropped into a domestic AU slow burn one-sided pining Janeway/Chakotay fanfic episode right out of nowhere! Alrighty then!

The opening scene of Janeway and Chakotay emerging from stasis pods on a lushly vegetated planet was certainly attention grabbing, and the premise of them having contracted a virus that forces them to stay on a planet which renders them immune to the disease progression, together, until they find a cure, which could take forever, is just... genius level shippy romance plotting. Slow clap for Jeri Taylor, she needs an AO3 account, stat.

So anyway, Voyager leaves Janeway and Chakotay on the planet with a ton of equipment and a little Starfleet prefab house, and she sets to work collecting data to try to learn more about the disease and find a cure. Meanwhile, Chakotay is just like 'guess this is our life now! right on!' and sets to work building furniture to make their little house cute. (To this day, I remember the first time I watched this with my mom as a kid, and I still remember her saying, 'yikes, she better watch out if he starts building a cradle!' and it still makes me laugh, because it's so true lol.) There's a lot of lingering glances from Chakotay toward Janeway, and I have to say, I don't usually notice the orchestral scores of Star Trek episodes, because they're usually pretty dull and soulless, but this one was notably lush and romantic during the planet scenes. Apparently, the composer ships Janeway and Chakotay too.

Janeway, meanwhile, doesn't even notice Chakotay pining away, since she's too busy with her scientific research, and being unbearably cute and enthusiastic about it. She sparkles like a diamond when she gets excited about science, and I can't blame Chakotay for being in love with her for a second, because dude, same!! It's so lovely to see her out of the context of having to present a captainly face to the Voyager crew at all times- she's charming and funny and very human here, in a way we usually only get to see smaller glimpses of on the ship- no wonder Chakotay is going out of his mind pining for her! Of course, it leads up to a very non-regulation shoulder rub (ooh la la!) that even Janeway can't rationalize as platonic, and they have The Talk, wherein Chakotay confesses that he's in love her. I gotta say, for coming out of literally nowhere, Kate Mulgrew and Robert Beltran sell the fuck out of this script, and make it totally believable. Especially in the confession scene- they're both crying, and I'm watching like, fuck you, how dare you break my heart like this?? This romance didn't even exist an episode ago, and now I'm invested?? In one episode!! Give these people Emmys, what the fuck?!

But of course, this being Star Trek, a love confession is usually just there to make us feel angst, because they are far too professional to ever act on it- which of course, they don't here. Starfleet captains aren't supposed to date their crew (even though they totally do- guess it's like the Prime Directive that way- just ignore it if inconvenient!) and most of them are too workaholic to devote time to romance anyway. We don't get any further dialog after the confession and the tearful hand hold. The next time we see them, they're back to the status quo of friendly banter. Janeway, who still hasn't let go of Mark, doesn't return Chakotay's feelings at this point, at least not romantically, though she obviously loves him as a friend. She's still invested in getting back to Voyager, though after the storm breaks most of her science equipment, she starts to resign herself to staying, and it's implied that things might have a chance to develop between the two of them eventually- until Voyager contacts them.

Because meanwhile, back on the ship, the whole crew is distraught at the loss of their mom Captain and Harry Kim pretty much leads a muntiny to get his mom Captain back. Even Tuvok can't argue with an entire crew of dorks simping for their beloved senpai, so he agrees to go get an antidote from the Vidians. The Doctor's Vidian girlfriend Denara Pel helps them out when the Vidians attack them, and Janeway and Chakotay are given the medicine, and rescued from the planet. (I really hope they beamed all their equipment up after them, because that was a lot of Starfleet swag they can't just replace at the next Starbase! Don't just leave it there for the monkey, you idiots!!)

Janeway and Chakotay return to Voyager, the crew are overjoyed to have their mom and dad back, and we know that Janeway and Chakotay, who don't make eye contact during the entire final scene on the bridge, will never acknowledge anything that was said on that planet, ever again. But the subtextual pining will be there for like, ever now. And many, many shippy things will ensue in future episodes, which will feel even more bananas now that I remember that they all take place after he literally tells her he's in love with her! I truly, honestly feel so unbelieveably sorry for diehard Janeway/Chakotay shippers, they really set out to murder them with this, didn't they? I'm neither especially for or against them as a ship, personally- it just sort of exists as a thing that makes me feel a little bit crazy because of how far they took it without ever directly addressing it again. I mean, it's not the first time Trek has done this to us, but it's always so frustrating when they make it a thing, only to never resolve it. If you start a story arc, resolve it one way or another, conclusively, cowards! Being in love with someone you live and work with is not a thing you can just sweep under the rug, especially when the object of desire knows about it! But it's Star Trek, so yeah, they will actually just make us suffer. They've done it before, they'll probably do it again. (Unless Prodigy actually gives us something more substantial than Voyager itself did, which tbh, considering how stellar the writing has been so far, it might actually do! Save us, Prodigy, save us! You're our only hope!)

Tl;dr: An insanely shippy story that literally made Janeway/Chakotay a thing in one damn episode, it actually works really well unto itself, despite the years of torment it will wreak on the fandom. Iconic tbh.

[pe0ple3ater]

@qsmutslut posted something that made me so hard to I had to write it immediately. It's currently 9:03 am. I feel like I'm going insane. This was so hot to write. Anyway! I hope you enjoy :)) I hope it's what you wanted

It's been a while since they've done this.

Pac would call it "clearing dungeons," but he's really not doing much on his end, Etoiles is ripping through the hoards of mobs and stepping back to let Pac get the loot. It's adorable how Etoiles is just here for the fight. Pac finds it sweet that Etoiles chooses him to spoil.

They're nearing the end, but Pac can tell that the adrenaline is unbearably buzzing under Etoiles' skin. Pac knows because he feels it often enough himself. Etoiles finishes off the boss in the final room and turns to Pac with a proud grin, nodding towards the chest.

"You take?" he asks, putting his sword away as Pac approaches him. Pac nods and giggles, opening the chest and digging through it. The loot is excellent; since the server reset, it's been a bitch to get materials. Pac is honestly really thankful that Etoiles is doing this with- for -him.

"Thank you so much, Etoiles, really, you're too generous," Pac says, looking up at the man from under his lashes. Etoiles smiles at him, pulling his hood off to clear his vision entirely.

Pac won't lie and say that his crush on Etoiles ever disappeared. He can't be blamed. Etoiles is a beautiful man. He's powerful, he's generous, he's funny. Watching him tear through the mobs, hearing his wild laugh bouncing off the walls, Pac is reminded why he fell for him in the first place. Etoiles is a shaken soda bottle, full of too much energy and pressure and ready to explode at any moment. Pac adores his power and the way he throws himself into everything full-heartedly.

Someone so kind, so wonderful, shouldn't go unthanked.

"Will you come to my house? Let me thank you?" Pac asks softly, reaching out to rest his hand on Etoiles' waist, making the man under him jolt. Pac watches the way his eyes widen and his lips part. It's not the first time they've slept together. Stories of how Etoiles acts in bed are enticing, and Pac is as greedy as Etoiles is giving.

"My bro, it's not necessary. Only if-" his voice trails off as Pac's hand slips under the edge of his armor, pressing against the thin shirt underneath "-only if you want," he finishes, voice dropping an octave and sending a shiver through Pac's spine.

"I do. You have been so helpful. I can't just let you leave after doing all this for me," Pac mumbles, smiling at Etoiles and pulling away. "Warp to my house, okay?" Pac says, and before Etoiles can argue, he pulls out his stone and warps away.

Pac goes inside, his house is shitty, but Etoiles isn't here to judge his decorating abilities. He's here to get fucked. Pac digs through his things until he finds his strap and harness. He hears the door open and smiles.

"Take your armor off, sit on the bed," Pac commands; he doesn't have to look to know that Etoiles is doing precisely what he said. Pac can hear the sound of removing armor, shuffling, and shifting clothes. Etoiles is so good; he's going to make him feel amazing. Pac steps into the next room to put the harness on and then grabs a length of rope. He returns to Etoiles and is pleased to see him sitting in just his undershirt and boxers, hands in his lap. He's so good.

Pac coos softly and walks over, straddling Etoiles' lap and pulling him in for a kiss. Etoiles' hands go to Pac's waist and run up and down his sides, affectionate even with Pac's tongue halfway down his throat. Pac likes that he doesn't try to fight for dominance; he follows Pac's lead. He tastes sweet, like healing potions and golden apples. Pac groans softly and rests his hands on Etoiles' chest. He pulls away from the kiss, and Etoiles is panting under him. Pac can feel the hardness of his dick pressed against his ass, and Pac thinks it's so fucking cute how worked up he gets just from kissing.

"Take your shirt off and lay back; I'm going to tie your hands," Pac mumbles, nipping at Etoiles' jaw. Etoiles nods and does as he's told. When Pac has him how he wants him, laid out on his knees, chest pressed against the bed, hands tied in front of him, naked, he takes a few minutes to admire. After all, Etoiles works so hard on his body. Pac's hands drag up his thighs, digging his nails in and scratching down the sensitive skin. Etoiles whines softly, dick twitching between his legs. Pac coos and leans forward, dragging his tongue against his hole in a broad swipe before pulling away and standing to get lube. The choked sound Etoiles makes his music to Pac's ears. He giggles and digs through his chest until he finds the well-used bottle of lube. He slicks up his fingers and returns to Etoiles.

Pac takes his time stretching Etoiles and listens to his little whimpers and groans, the way he moans Pac's name. Pac feels so powerful to have someone seen as the most powerful man on the server, squirming and whimpering with his hands. The idea makes heat curl in his stomach and dampen the space between his legs. He feels Mike's presence fill his head and laughs a little; of course, Mike is here. Etoiles is his favorite toy. He can take so much and still beg for more. Neither of them speaks as Pac pulls away and attaches the dildo to the harness, pressing it inside of himself and gasping softly.

Pac pushes inside of Etoiles in one mean thrust, and Etoiles chokes on his moan. He pulls at the binds around his wrists, and Pac feels a little hot at the way his muscles flex.

"You're so pretty, Etoiles, so good. You're so good to everyone. You need to be rewarded. Maybe I should call everyone here and let them say thank you," Pac purrs, fucking him hard and fast. Etoiles is already a mess under him, Pac's words making his moans kick up in pitch.

Pac manages to wring three orgasms out of Etoiles. The final one has him yelping Pac's name and pressing his face into the bed. He's got tears streaming down his cheeks, and when Pac looks, he sees there's nothing coming from his dick. A dry, painful orgasm. Etoiles is still gasping and shivering when Pac cums, nails digging into Etoiles hips and shivers wracking his spine. Etoiles is perfect through the whole thing, whining and crying but still and pliant.

Pac pulls out, unties Etoiles' hands, and pulls him against his chest.

"Thank you," Etoiles rasps out, pressing his face against Pac's chest and breathing through the pleasure rolling through his body.

[labyrinthofsphinx]

Do you think canon Vox and Alastor would be brought back together at all if they spent enough time with your AU versions? Like they’d remember the good old days before things fell apart between them by watching their counterparts being so close and their own version of lovey-dovey?

I just imagine your AU versions being, whether intentionally or unintentionally, almost like relationship counseling for canon Radiostatic.

(Totally not a ploy to see canon Radiostatic slowly rekindle their love with cute courting and gestures, etc. in your art style 😅)

Oooff, ya know. That is a really, really difficult thing to answer because, well, aside from pissing each other off, we have no idea what Alastor and Vox's relationship is, was, or wasn't, in canon. We have no idea what started that schism, and there's some stuff that's easier to come back from...and some that isn't, if at all.

I mean, just speculating here, that if they did have a friendship, at any point, these two would probably be like looking (from an outsiders perspective) like a nostalgic trip. Maybe a funny thought like, 'hey, can you imagine if we met before we died? Can you imagine? Maybe that could've been us before everything fell apart?'. And I mean...mi Vox and Al are very happy with each other which...at the very least could cause some sense of longing, possibly, for something like that (again?). That could, potentially and eventually, lead to a conversation, but it would require work to get there. And the amount of work may vary greatly by what is revealed. Again, that is all speculation at this point. XD

A lot of it also very much depends on how much they're really missing their relationship, enough to work towards fixing it. AU Vox and Al have literally been through the ringer with each other. There's very little that could make them question the other at all. I'm not sure how close canon Alastor and Vox were, but if it was anything remotely like AU Vox and Al, it probably feels like they lost their other half.

As far as relationship counseling....I'll be completely honest here, these two would absolutely fail XD. They can't even explain their relationship to each other, much less try to convey that to others. If these two sat down and had a real talk with their canon counterparts...I think they'd be a little horrified. Al less so, because he's pretty similar, but there would be a few points of contention that would really strike him. They're both like the most unhinged sides of themselves, and it's hard to face your demons in that way (quite literally in this case).

I know AU Vox would try. Oh, he would try so hard. Because he's going to think about the misery he'd be in if Al hated him one day, and that would be just an unbearable thought. But he might actually feel more comfortable talking to canon Al than to canon Vox about it, if only because certain things that canon Vox does would be unthinkable to AU Vox at this time (especially Val). That and Vox is going to be pretty darn sure that whatever relationship they could build back up....kinda has to start with Alastor, in his mind. Alastor is the one who kinds defines their relationship as is, so he'd probably assume the same thing here. I'm not sure how successful he'd be but...who knows?

AU Al...I'm less sure. I'm not sure he'd see canon Vox as a Vox at all, because he's certainly no Vox that he's ever known. AU Vox doesn't act like that when Al is around. Anyways, once AU Alastor makes up his mind about that then, well, he would assumed that canon Alastor likely left...whatever was going on, for a good reason. Because, in his mind, Vox would never leave of his own agency. Either way, I doubt he'd be very helpful after that.

Also, not for nothing guys, but these two do not have everything figured out XD. They have their own issues, and there have been bumps in the road. They seem pretty perfect...but that's just one view of them. There's stuff under the surface that rises up here and there, that needs to be addressed...even if they don't want to open Pandora's box.

Anywho, thanks for the ask!

[paladin-of-nerd-fandom65]

Some Grayson kid headcanons I just got:

Mar'i's favorite animals are monkeys, cause she thinks they're super cute and loves how wildly fun they are

Jake would used to always take his Nightwing and Starfire plushies with him everywhere he goes whenever Dick and Kory aren't around him, since he feels comforted by them and also a sense of warm familiar safety with them wrapped up in his arms

Mar'i gatekeeps all her snacks from Jake, since that boy will literally eat it all up if left alone with him. She even hides them in her own room sometimes if she has to. This is especially done whenever it's mainly about Starfire's very famous zorkaberry tarts and Jake KNOWS that Mar'i has some left, which are usually the last ones after him and everyone else finishes theirs quicker

Mar'i has a spider plushie and will throw it at Jake to scare him away for fun or whenever he's purposely being annoying to her and she wants him to stop. It always gets him to scream loudly, yelling "NO!" and fall back to the floor and immediately run to Dick and Kory or just straight to his bedroom so that she won't chase him with it

Me likey…..Me Likey A LOT

@spider-jaysart

If I may….(clears throat)

- The two have a tally counter, white it be a whiteboard or in the StarCave’s main computer, of the amount of times they’ve rescued each other from being captured by villains and rouges or from immediate danger on the field. So far, Mar’i leads ahead by two rescues. The latest in which had her burst into the hideout’s walls as Lion Tamer (an OC supervillain whose a street orphan turned to ex Lion Tamer at a circus, hence his name around the siblings’ age range) was interrogating Skybird for information about the secret codes to Bludhaven Central Bank’s vaults via his pet lions, a peanut butter like substance they can smell and taste and finally some stocks meant to keep his ankles in place while he was also handcuffed with power dampening cuffs. Jake still fumes when he’s reminded of that since now his sensitivity that’s meant in being a family secret (with the exceptions of sone of their closest friends) is known by one of his frienemies.

- Due to the two of them being descended from feline ancestors as per their Tamaranean halves, Mar’i and Jake instinctively sometimes follow both rodents including mice and rats and also bright laser pointers. Though Jake is only one known to purr when very comfy like their mother can

- Speaking of their mother, Kory often times helps them maintain their hair as to prevent them from becoming unbearable for them in one form or another. She has quite the experience with her own follicles needing to strike a happy balance between smooth enough (whether it has fiery curls or it’s silky smooth) to comb while maintaining its massive length throughout the years. Despite Jake usually keeping his hair short, had it grown as large as his mother and sister’s, his would be no exception

[shmowder]

Could you please elaborate on firm dom Aglaya and eager sub Big Vlad 👀 (please, maybe both of us knew all my little comments about him would eventually lead to this, despite his horribleness).

Speaking of Aglaya, I just want to say I love the line "She would certainly like that, yes that is why she is asking in the first place." from the inexperienced reader post. It's just so charming!!

🐿️ anon

Oh boy! sub big Vlad is a hill I'd gladly die on any given day of the week, firm dom Aglaya is a set-in-stone notion in my brain.

Could I elaborate? I would love nothing more. Smut below

Vlad Sr.

Dom bottom Reader, Sub Vlad, degradation kink, praise, aftercare.

You cannot look at that man with a ruthless mind and a seemingly apathetic heart and not tell me he longs to he held in bed, to surrender control for someone and be at your mercy.

Most businessmen tend to be submissive in bed, leading a life where you have to rule with an iron fist all the time does that to you. Let's not forget Vlad's surprising tender heart when it comes to his family, Despite all his sins and greed that would've sent him to the lowest circle in hell to rot for eternity, he willingly will sacrifice his life to protect his son who digged his own grave.

It's not just death he agrees to, but torture. In P1 the kin keep him alive for a couple days just to inflict hell upon him, you get to visit him and watch him at his lowest moments as his mind is on the verge of breaking from the unbearable pain. And even then, he doesn't regret taking his son's place in punishment one bit.

Men like him are all bark and bite on the surface but once the bedroom door is closed, they're all vulnerable and needy.

Requiring someone more capable to either pick them up or put them in their place, to order them around and give them a taste of their own medicine.

Have your way with him, make him do whatever you want. Forbid him from ever touching himself without your explicit permission, make him beg for the right to even kiss your skin.

Have him on his knees awaiting your orders, this big strong man reduced to your little pet. How many families he ruined? How many monopolises does he hold over the town's entire economy? Don't you want to teach him some manners and have him apologise for everything wrong he has ever done.

Apologise for being a needy mess that needs someone to degrade him in order to cum.

You could be the daintest most fragile person ever and you'd still hold authority over him. You don't even need to be strong or big, you don't require the leather getup or the whip, you can dress in all frilly pink, look like a literal princess and still be able to order him around. Have the king kissing your ankles while his leaking cock remains neglected between his spread thighs.

You could also be soft with him, treat him like a delicate flower. Spoil your cute little pet because who else will do it for him but you? Who else is capable of seeing how lost he is inside, how much he requires a firm gentle hand to guide him.

It makes him unimaginably pent up whenever you blatantly disrespect his authority in public. Whenever you laugh and roll your eyes at his intimidation attempts, calling them adorable... well pathetic but still adorable in their own way.

With a snap of your finger you could make him worship the ground you walk on. You could ride him and edge him for hours, forbiding him from even thinking about climaxing because he simply hasn't earned it yet. Only good boys get to cum, isn't that right?

Especially if you're someone younger than him, he could be the same age as your dad if not your grandparent! Yet here he is, taking orders from someone half his age in bed.

He can't even deny how much he enjoys it because he gets painfully hard each time you even look in his direction with half-lidded eyes. That knowing smile on your face.

Make him thank you after each orgasm. Have him suck your fingers and taste himself on them, push them deeper into his throat and watch him gag underneath you as you grind his overstimulated cock between your thighs.

Hold him close to your chest afterwards, let him cling to you, and hum a melody to put him to sleep. Allow him this respite after that intense session. He entrusted you with his vulnerability, making him feel protected and safe in your arms.

-

Aglaya

Sub bottom reader, Firm dom Aglaya, bandage, spanking, neglect play, doll kink.

Firm in the way a horse trainer would be with a riding crop. Firm in the way a stern teacher would eye you with silence when you get a question wrong, an apathetic cold expression as she asks you to try again, and think this time. Having you squirm in your seat and desperately try not to think of how embarrassing this situation is.

She can have you doubting yourself and your own confidence with a single sentence, she can easily snap your fragile ego in half like a twig. Whatever spine or courage you may have held, evaporates in her presence.

At any given opportunity, she is the most powerful person in the room. The highest authority figure in any situation, the person holding the last word.

You're easy to toy with, most people are. But you especially are fun to squeeze and trap into a corner until you confess and squeak out your most embarrassing secrets to her with teary eyes.

Oh, she already knew them. She just wanted to hear you admit out loud. Your dirty shameful fantasies about her.

Aglaya makes one thing very clear in the bedroom, she holds the absolute power.

Follow her orders, and you'll be rewarded. Misbehave, and you'll be punished and put into your place like any disobedient brat. It's simple as that.

If she tells you to grind down into her hand as she fingers you, you will obey. If she commands you to describe in details how much you enjoy being her obedient doll, you will. No matter how embarrassing it is to talk about the way her fingers feel inside you, no matter how much you want to hide under the covers each time she makes tell her exactly what you want her to do to you next.

You need her help to make you cum, don't you? Of course you do. You're practically helpless on your own without her interference, so lost and clueless on how to pleasure your own body. You need her to take care of you, to explain things and show you how it's properly done.

Aglaya especially enjoys tying you up, rendering you truly helpless and unable to move. Stripping you from any resemblance of freedom or choice, you will do what she says and you'll only get pleasure when she gives it to you.

You decide to throw a tantrum? Then she'll leave you naked and tied up on the bed, dripping onto the sheets below.

Don't worry, she is still in the room. Activity ignoring you, sitting on the desk opposite of the bed, her back turned to you as she goes over her paperwork. Leaving you feeling needy and neglected, all alone, insides aching as you can't even bring yourself any sort of relief.

Sit there and think about what you did, is all that she tells you.

Aglaya doesn't even dignifiy you with simple eye contact, she doesn't turn her head to face you. She keeps her back towards you, not sparing you a glance as you beg her to come back. Apologising and promising to behave.

Her cute little doll all alone, poor thing.

Maybe she'll give you a pillow to hump and grind against if you beg beautifully, cry her name with desperation. Forget who you are and become what she tells you to be, let her shape you into the perfect angel, her obedient toy.

Only after she's sure your apologies are sincere, does she finally rise from her chair and join you back on the bed.

Untie your wrists and legs, cup your face with her hand as she takes in your dishevelled appearance. The sheer desperation in your wet eyes.

Next thing you know, you're bent over her lap. Face buried in the mattress below as her hand trails down your back, leather gloves sending shivers down your body.

You know what comes next in order to truly repent and show how sorry you are, don't you?

The flat of her palm settles on your ass. She squeezes the soft, tender flesh. Imagining how beautiful your skin would look like after she's done with it.

She'll let you keep count.

It's for your own good, she must teach you this lesson.

-

Younger Vlad

Hard dom reader, masochistic sub Vlad jr, Humiliation, cock stepping.

I had an epiphany while writing this, Young Vlad would absolutely be into you stepping on his cock. He's ashamed about it but it feels so good to deny it.

He's kneeling on the ground, hands tied behind his back. His legs are spread, cock laying against the hard cold floor below, leaking shamelessly.

Vlad's head is cast downwards, his eyes refusing to meet yours. His breathing growing louder with each click of your heel against the floor as you walk closer.

Weaving your fingers between his hair strands, you sharply tug upwards to make him look you in the eyes. His pupils are blown wide, labored breath and a completely flushed face and ears.

You start slow, a small pressure from the tip of your shoes against his most sensitive and fragile body part. He takes a sharp breath, supressing a whimper as you tease the head of his cock.

Vlad desperately attempts to salvage the remains of his dignity as he puts on attempts to appear collected and unaffected, despite him being the one to ask for this in the first place.

But oh, it doesn't take much to have that facade melt away. The more you press down with your heel, the more his masochist side comes into light as he grinds against your shoe instead of pulling back like any rational person would do in this scenario.

Clicking your tongue, you harshly tug at his hair again. Even humping your leg like a dog in heat is too good for someone like him. He better behave and only take what you give him or else you'll make this much more painful than it has to be.

And god the look on his face? Having someone speak to him this way after he got used to be treating with the utmost respect all his life. The fact you even have the audacity to look at him as if he was filth below your feet makes his heart skip a beat. A screw or two might be loose in his brain because the promise of pain coming from your lips sounded sweeter than any melody, you could slap him and his cock would twitch in response beneath your shoes.

[bonefall]

ya know i usually use runningred as just a cute lil ship to get sandstorm into the picture but actually,it kinda makes a lot of sense for her characterization. the dissonance between her calm and noble father, redtail (who PROBABLY became a warrior early just checking out his vibes) and the wild, energetic runningwind who's apparently too impatient to mentor an apprentice. they're also around the same age at death, red at 54 moons, running at 56 moons.

FOR REALLL It really contributes to the character of BOTH their kids

Runningwind and Redtail loved each other, and their family, but had communication problems. They were bad at just sharing their feelings and letting their kids know how much they were adored

Holding up Redtail's legacy is all that Sandstorm and Longtail have left of him. They want to be respected warriors!

And Runningwind can probably see Tigerclaw and Darkstripe aren't GREAT influences but... with Redtail gone, what can he even say? He's impatient and RUNS from his own problems

Sandstorm

Through TPB she's loyal and reliable, but also hot-and-cold. She has issues with compassion and trust, snapping at Fireheart when he loses Cloudpaw and immediately distrusting Ravenpaw

It fits SO PERFECTLY with her not learning how to approach her own emotions. At first Sandpaw was lashing out at Firepaw unfairly for the loss of her dad and how he embarrassed her brother, but over time, came to respect him as a warrior.

She's responsible and serious like Redtail. Impatient and reliable like Runningwind.

Longtail

He also wants to uphold the honor of Redtail, and the shame of being nicked by a kittypet is unbearable. Runningwind should have been there for him, but he wasn't, and Tigerclaw and his clique were.

The DRAMA when he finds out that Tigerclaw killed his dad?? And then he kills his OTHER dad AND his apprentice??? I'm DEAD

And his TURNAROUND just works so well, because he bit into the poison apple of clan culture to try to be honorable. Like his DAD. When he realized that Tigerclaw's path lead away from what Redtail would have wanted, that's Longtail's out.

His reason to self-reflect. In my rewrite he's becoming deputy for a while, btw.

I also just like how Sandstorm and Longtail's suffixes match their parents, -Wind and another -Tail

[ash-and-books]

Rating: 4/5

Book Blurb:

Why date a mountain man? Because climbing him will leave you breathless.

Felicity Pax loves her job. She craves excitement, and being a bounty hunter gives her that in spades. So when her estranged mother disappears with a small fortune in tow, Felicity chases her like she would any other skip. Too bad she didn't barter on having increasingly infuriating (and infuriatingly hot) PI Bennett Green on her tail.

Bennett's got a job to do, and if that means shadowing Felicity…well…he's had worse assignments. Even if he's 99% sure the increasingly intriguing bounty hunter is leading him on a wild goose chase through the Rockies.

If she has to drag her PI tail through endless quirky mountain towns in order to shake him, that's what she's determined to do…but it isn't long before Felicity's intended distraction turns up a mystery worth solving—and Bennett becomes the unexpected partner she never realized she needed. As things heat up, Felicity will have to decide what's most important to her: staying one step ahead of the "enemy" or giving herself freedom to experience the adventure of a lifetime.

The Rocky Mountains get unBEARably hot in Katie Ruggle's brand-new series packed with adventure, action, tall dark & scruffy heroes, and a sense of quirky humor that will be your next perfect escape.

Books by Katie Ruggle:

Fish Out of Water

Hold Your Breath

Run to Ground

In Her Sights

Review:

He's a Private Investigator and she's the Bounty Hunter, they're both on the hunt for a rare necklace that her mother has taken... and possibly falling in love as they chase the necklace through quirky mountain towns, a drunken wedding, and stake outs! Bennett Green is a PI and he's latest job has him trying to find a necklace that was stolen by Jane Pax. What Bennett never expected was to fall for Felicity Pax, Jane's daughter and a bounty hunter, when he first meets her. Felicity is tired of her mother ruining her and her siblings lives, she's determined to get the necklace back and to shake the handsome PI following her. Yet when Bennett strikes up a partnership since they're both on the same hunt, Felicity can't help but fall for the very quiet but adorable scruffy guy. Can they find the necklace before it's too late? This was a really cute easy read, the romance was fun and the entire story just felt like a charming time. It kind of gave off Hallmark mystery/ 2000s rom com vibes, which makes it an excellent time. The story was fun and the little quirky town visits were sweet. Overall, it's definitely a cute read and one that I think that anyone can read and relax with! Its part of a series however it can be read as a standalone!

Release Date: July 30,2024

Publication/Blog: Ash and Books (ash-and-books.tumblr.com)

*Thanks Netgalley and SOURCEBOOKS Casablanca | Sourcebooks Casablanca for sending me an arc in exchange for an honest review*

[christylove94]

Everlasting - Part Seven - VI

Hopefully this ending doesn't fall too flat. Maybe I'll come up with an epilogue one day?

Pairing: Dongfang Qingcang/Xiao Lanhua

Chapter Tags: Explicit sexual themes, angst, fluff, AU elements, hurt/comfort, wordy

Her foot is hooked behind his calf, her eyes fixated across the room. 

In the reflection of the mirror, she watches his flushed, slick cock slide in and out of the opening within her puffy, pink folds at a languid pace. It's so indelible the way her body twitches in near unbearable relish when he enters, and holds tight in mourning with each retreat. 

It's almost as if the sensations are doubled, seeing and feeling his calloused hand smooth up the skin of her quivering belly to grab her breast and tweak her puckered nipple. To see and feel him lick up her throat with half lidded eyes when her head falls back onto his shoulder in reaction. To see and feel the burn in her thigh when he suddenly hikes it up higher so her channel is nearly too tight to take him in. 

But he forces his way through with hip snapping thrusts, cock rasping against her walls like a match being struck over and over.

Her muscles pull taut as as she races higher and higher, breaths ceasing, heart more frantic than a hummingbird's wings until—

She bursts into flames with a sobbing howl, gushing her release across their thighs and the ruined bedding. 

Arm locked around her waist, he yanks her convulsing hips down onto his plunging cock, pounding stars into her vision as she comes and comes like a raging inferno. Breasts bouncing, hands scratching down his arm for something to brace herself against as her body clenches and quakes, oozes and dribbles. Squeezes, squeezes, squeezes.

His mouth falls open against the bend of his throat in a breathy roar. He plants himself so deep, she swears she tastes the salty decadence of him at the back of her throat. She watches through teary eyes as veins pulse around his tense, trembling muscles, his hips jerking unsteadily as his cock jumps within the confines of her drooling center. 

Feeling his spend splash hot and thick along her walls sends her eyes rolling back with a shrill cry as that empty space inside her clenches hard. 

They rock into one another for a long while as the flames engulfing them lick and spark in brief flares before finally dying down to gratified embers. 

She's held snug in the fold of his arms while their chests heave and their hearts pound a speedy tempo. It takes a while for her to come down from the pleasant haze that lingers over her body, his touch an impediment she does not want to cure. But eventually his drugging effect wears off, leaving her noodly loose. 

He lowers her leg straight with care, then leaves her empty when he slips free of her center. She gives a displeased murmur when his essence leaks out of her, though she has clenched tight to keep it in.

His hands turn her around and pull her so that they're parallel, heads sharing the same pillow. “I'll give you more later,” he says as if to pacify her, though his amusement is clear in the slant of his grin.

“Promise?” she says piteously, playing along as she bats her eyelashes.

He leans forward and nuzzles his nose against hers in a way that stirs a blush into existence across her cheeks. He settles back with a lazy smile, his arm resting over her waist. “I promise.”

She bites her lip, tummy fluttering at how cute and endearing he can be before letting out a deep breath and relaxing as the sweat along her body begins to cool. 

The smell of their activities is quite strong. Anyone would know what has occurred within her bedroom. There is no time to clean up the room, nor the will to care if anyone stumbles across it. 

Let them think I have lived in sin. Maybe that will let them know that I am not a pillar of perfection! she thinks with an admittedly childish sort of satisfaction.

But if they blame Da Mutou… If anyone dares to say so much as one word about my husband leading me into sin, or taking advantage of me, or that he's depraved. If they look down on him or bully him in any way—!

“Your eyes glow emerald green when you're seriously pissed. Good to know,” he informs her with a casual sort of brightness as he huddles closer and settles in with plans of listening for as long as is needed. His eyes riveted. “What's on your mind, sweetheart?”

She pouts, but her anger remains hissing and snapping below the surface like a caged animal. “I just don't like the idea of anyone saying mean things about you, Da Mutou. You don't deserve it.”

What looks like wonder lifts eyebrows and his breath ceases for a moment, eye unblinking. He looks down and his voice is quieter than before. “I feel the same when people speak ill of you.”

“They won't say as such now that I am the Goddess of Xishan. But your status as a true immortal should make you just as esteemed, yet all they see is the blood of the Moon Tribe,” she seethes through a bitter scowl. 

His eyes come back to her, his expression now relaxed. “I don't care. So long as you and Shangque remain close.”

“What about Xunfeng?” Her eyebrows pull together with uncertainty. Has something else happened in the last decade she does not know of?

His unbothered air remains, though his voice now carries a note of disapproval.  “Xunfeng still has much to learn about life and love.”

She rounds her mouth, then purses them as she nods in an excessively sagely manner.

He chuckles, giving her the toothy grin she was looking for. 

He sighs then trails his hand up her arm by the pads of his fingers, leaving goosebumps reaching after him in his wake. “Come. Let's take a bath.”

—

She does not know how they got to this point, her bobbing up and down on his lap within the cozy water as he pumps up into her at a slow and steady pace.

She thinks it might have started after they finished washing each other's hair. He had splashed her playfully and a purely innocent water fight ensued. She had decided to start tickling him in hopes of turning the tide and that had turned into frisky wrestling as he tried to stop her and tickle her in tandem. Then her back ended up flat against the wall of the bath, his hair dripping around his face as he looked at her with burning intensity. 

The feel of her pelvis cradling his erection made her a goner. 

Things progress at a slow incline, her body savoring the feeling of her center being stuffed full over and over again, hearing the constant stream of his pleasure and filthy praise pressed right against her ear, and feeling her cupped breasts between pinched and kneaded into tingly swells. 

It's his hands reaching down to squeeze the bruises on her hips that cause her legs to twitch around his, and the electrifying buzz in the hollow between her hips to gain a fever pitch. One hand slipping down to dip between her spread folds has her on the edge and teetering in a blink as she gives a throaty cry.

She smacks the hand away, panting. “I don't want to come too soon,” she whines, trembling at how close she'd been, at how her body now craves for the touch to return, for him to stroke her fire until she goes up in smoke. “I want to finish with you.”

He wraps his arms around her waist in a hug, chuckling. “I was about to finish, da mutou,” he teases with breathless levity that makes her snicker and turn her head into his.

Smiles pressed together, his hand reaches up to cup her cheek as their mouths naturally melt into one another. The water begins to splash roughly as her increasing moans part their lips, pitching higher and faster, his growing desperate and thick. When his fingers come back to that throbbing spot, she lets herself shatter around him with a mewling whimper, his thrusts turning wild and fierce before he plants himself deep with a long, relieved groan. 

They spend a while after just kissing and cuddling, locked eyes saying a million and one things in the comfortable silence as the strength of the sunlight grows ever brighter. Eventually they wash away the recent evidence of their lovemaking, dry and pull on their robes. Hand in hand, they reappear back in her room. 

Even though they've only perfected the routine of getting ready for the day in his Paradise Dream, they fall back into it with only a look of shock flashing across Da Mutou's features and a lingering kiss to her forehead bearing his sorrow and regret – no doubt over causing her distressed pleas as the dream had crumbled around them. 

Seated behind him on the bed, she takes her time brushing his beautiful hair, pulling and tying it back from his face in the distinctive angle that speaks of his elegance and regality. To cap it off is the understated crown he has worn during his time as her ‘servant’ at the back of his head. 

Once finished, Da Mutou takes up the position behind her, tending to her with great care. 

He draws her hair back, swirling it up high upon her head in smooth folds and intricate tucks before allowing the rest to spill into a delicate waterfall down her back, all with patience and nimble fingers. He ressetles her crown of golden blossoms and vines back into place on her head. 

Her reflection brings a weariness to her features. The image is one of maturity and grace, but all she sees is someone playing dress up. The life of the Goddess was cut short before she had really gotten to know it. She knows her purpose, knows what is required of her as a disciple of Heaven, she just wishes she didn't feel like she had to pretend to be someone else entirely while doing so. 

She is not Xiyun, no matter how many times she tells herself she is. She is Dongfang Qingcang's wife, his sweetheart, Xiǎo Huāyāo, Orchid. 

“I'm happy you don't treat me differently,” she finds herself saying as he strokes the brush down her hair to her tailbone. “Like I'm some unreachable, ethereal being.”

He finishes up the last of the hundred strokes before setting the brush down onto the side drawer with a faint clack. “You treated me as normal when everyone else hated me, feared me, relied upon me, and admired me. You are the only one who loves me,” he reminds her gently. “How could I treat you as anything other than my equal in life?”

His fingers curl under her chin, framing her face as he tilts her head back. His lips feel pillow soft when they lower upside down over hers. He surrounds her in comfort within the curtain of his hair, the folds of his robe, his face over hers, his lips interwoven with hers. Her mind is put to ease as he kisses her once, twice, three times before drawing away with an unsteady breath.

She grins up at him, then rises to hold his hand in hers.

They dress. She helps him replace his sleep robe with the ones they discarded in passion, making sure he looks pristine.

But when he begins to help her into her layers of robes, her throat begins to close up. Her eyes grow misty. The sun indicates early morning is reaching an end. 

She smiles through it, reaching for the eyebrow brush and ushers him into the seat she vacated where she then settles on his lap facing him. She shapes his eyebrows with muscle memory alone, trying to encapsulate the lines, slopes, and angles, the creaminess of his complexion and the myriad of browns, gold, and honey that make up his eyes as he looks up at her in the roundest, sweetest way, praying that she can take this image with her into her next life.

But will there be one? her mind interjects with what she has been vehemently suppressing since the moment she remembered her divine mission as Goddess Xiyun. I am the last of my people. I am tasked with destroying Tai Sui in this life which will no doubt require the destruction of my body and primordial spirit. I won’t be able to be reincarnated. I won’t see Da Mutou ever again.

Her hand has long since started shaking, merely hovering over his brows as warmth drains from her body.

His hand encompasses hers, lowering it with steadiness as he takes over, bringing the brush to her eyebrows. She watches helplessly as he concentrates on her, soldiering on towards their impending separation with enough strength to carry them both.

“There. More beauty added to what's already breathtaking,” he says with simple sincerity as he finishes, gazing at her in quiet content. 

There’s so much she wants to say to him and not enough time to do it. There's so much she wants to do with him, and see with him, and experience with him. She had wanted to give him daughters and sons. Wanted to grow old together, pass on into their next lives, find one another again, and start the cycle anew.

Now she can't even find the breath to say one syllable, let alone express any of this.

I haven't told him I'm going to die. He only believes I'm going to marry Changheng because of a betrothal.

Her gaze flits between his eyes in silence as she ruthlessly battles her emotions. She knows the reasons, but she still can't comprehend. She mouths the desperate question of why? 

He gathers her into his chest, pressing her cheek over his heart by the hand that cups the back of her head. 

“What did I tell you? You don't have to bear your tears around me.” 

Her shaking hands reach around to fist the back of his robes. Her stare is wide. Blank. “I am your wife. I don't want to leave you all alone.” 

The hoarse whisper emerges from the remnants of what remains of Xiǎo Huāyāo in this world. She has already given him her heart and soul in all the time they have spent together. 

All that is left standing here in his arms is what is necessary to protect him from the greatest evil of this world. 

He leans back enough to reveal his affectionate gaze, his boundless love imbued within the touch that drifts around to cradle her jaw. “You are going to have a long, happy life, Xiǎo Huāyāo. Just know that I love you. Always.” His voice turns wispy as his thumb strokes line after line beneath her eye, never once losing the strength he offers, his steadfast tranquility. “Don't forget this. Please.”

Her throat grows thick and her eyes burn, but she keeps it in, not wanting to waste a single moment of memorizing his features. She guides their Fate Marks together as she says just as softly, “You are a part of me as I am a part of you. How could I ever forget? I love you, Dongfang Qingcang. Forever and always.”

The little smile he gives transforms his whole face. Like God took all the sweetness, the beauty, and the purity of this world, plucked a ray of sunshine from Heaven itself and gave her the everlasting vision of why she will face her death with no hesitation. Da Mutou is taken away in a puff of dark, angelic wings that fade out of her grasp right before her eyes. 

She does not cry. 

It's too late to wonder if she should have revealed her memories from the beginning or if what was given will be enough. She steps into the righteous energy of her goddess-hood for the last time, finding peace in knowing she is doing what is best, what is right for him and the world. 

[kavrillia]

This is a tricky one because I don't always understand what makes some characters popular and others hated among fans, but I tried to extrapolate given what I've seen in past years of fandom involvement.

S-Tier:

Zarolyn exists to be adorable and wear cute outfits. I suppose some people might find her too saccharine, but those people have no souls. Bwahahaha!

Young teenager Delzeena is a brave, spunky, quick-thinking survivor. Her sass only partially covers up the scars of her tragic past. You cheer to see her get through bad times, but you would rather see her finally catch a break--especially when you remember how young she really is.

Prince Xeebec is an unbearably smug, handsome, eloquent, petty, wealthy, snarky, glorious bastard who wants to take over and rule (at least two thirds of) the world, yet also is plagued by deep insecurities. If he didn't have fangirls, I'd be very surprised.

Empress Vazali is the main character, and we spend more time in her head than anyone else's. If she's not likable, I'm a disastrous failure of a writer. ;) She's definitely not perfect, but she is a kind, empathetic person who sincerely wants to do the right things for her people. Too bad it can be so difficult to know what the right things are when centuries of conflict loom over her and her crown.

Bronzar is our leading man. He's loyal, supportive, stoic, modest, a doting father, looks damn fine in a suit, and thwarts assassins for a living. The trope of the bodyguard developing not-so-professional feelings for the person they're protecting is a popular one for a reason. A solemn oath in conflict with the yearning of the heart...oh, the angst!

Abarok would be dubbed a cinnamon roll, too pure for this world. He's funny and sweet, and the biggest girlboss around would kick anyone's ass to protect him. He's also ace, so hooray for representation!

Zadie is the aforementioned girlboss: brave, headstrong, smartass, funny, loyal, treats the rules like suggestions, will go to the ends of the earth for those she loves. Being an active soldier means she is fit and toned, with noticeable arm muscles, and some people are definitely into that.

Xorax is a conflicted villain who was brainwashed from birth to believe the false idea that he must assassinate certain people to save his ancestors' souls from eternal torment. The angst potential is through the roof. He's got the dangerous, grim-faced, standoffish aura that makes fandom want to break him until he's sobbing out his deepest insecurities in the arms of a Mary Sue. So what if he tried multiple times to kill a little girl? He's just misunderstood, you see!

A Tier:

Sicara gets to wear sexy, fiery dancing outfits. She's kind and compassionate but not a pushover. She also has a soft spot for lost souls in need of guidance.

As only the daughter or sister of the monarch, Kazaneta gets to say the things her more reserved relatives would never dare to utter. She's not afraid to call people out on their B.S. She's also a good mom and a fun aunt.

Zalani is mysterious, rich, sexy, and loves to manipulate those around her to further her own goals. She's also bi and struggling to advance feminism in a patriarchal society.

B Tier:

Emperor Xeres dies in the first chapter, so the reader doesn't get to know him first-hand, but we hear good things about him from his wife and daughters. The unresolved conflict with his son is fodder for drama and angst, though.

Queen Vizada is the mother of the main character, and she goes through some dark times after her husband's unexpected death, so she would garner some sympathy.

Rimzor isn't the most fleshed out character in the cast, but he's a good soldier and friend who's often caught in the middle of his colleagues' arguments. There's plenty of room for people to have headcanons about him.

Zola and Leva are both the embodiment of the "be gay and do crime" meme.

Zenni is just kind of there in the background of a lot of scenes, filling a more supportive role in the plot. He's your typical young boy who enjoys collecting action figures, watching cartoons, and showing his sister gross pictures in books to make her scream "eew!"

C Tier:

Cazella is only in the mini-sequel, not the main plot, but if she was around in the thick of things I imagine she would be a bit divisive. Some people would like her because she's a resilient, stubborn, compassionate person who's been through some serious trauma and picked herself up again afterward. Others would hate her because she's the canon love interest of a character who didn't have one in the main plot, so she'd interfere with people's headcanons and self-insert OCs.

Zelda is ditzy, shallow, and lazy, but pretty funny and not a bad person at heart.

A gray-haired man who can still pass the physical for the Imperial Guard? Ambruk would probably qualify as a DILF to some people.

Irina is devious and beautiful, a good combination for anyone who likes their pretty characters with some edge. She's not the deepest character, but there's room for headcanons, and some fans can probably relate to her crush on Xeebec.

Nartok is an antagonist but not evil, trying to get out from under his father's shadow and prove himself. Still, he's enough of a bad guy that people who like those kinds of characters would sit up and take notice. Alas, he's a misogynist and has bad breath, but determined fans have smoothed over far worse traits in their favorite characters.

Ontaz is a sickly old man in current canon but I can see flashback fics where he's the political leader of the Vincaran nationalist movement, the mastermind behind an assassination, and super charismatic. (I can also see people shipping him with Commander Xarax, even though that is absolutely not canon. They were partners in founding the Vincaran Federation, not anything else.)

Minalla is a stern, no-nonsense middle aged woman in military authority. I know there are people out there who would want her to step on them.

D Tier:

Tradlak is kind of a blank slate. He's one of the empress' guards, and good at what he does. That's it.

Lareza had kids with Xeebec, and their marriage went belly-up. Not much else to say or work with. I suppose someone might try to write a fic in which they reconcile.

Lynzari is in two scenes, one of which never even names her. There isn't much to be a fan of, but she's got goth and emo vibes, so someone might be drawn to that.

Brialla is a batshit crazy old lady who talks to her dead husband and abuses her grandchildren. Enough said.

[stitching-in-time]

Voyager rewatch s4 ep19: The Killing Game pt 2

It's 1940s WWII holodeck adventures part 2! The fun continues as the American soldiers join the Resistance fighters in the picturesque French village of St. Clair (aka holodeck one).

Janeway and Seven attempt to access and disable the crew's neural interfaces to the holodeck before their Hirogen captors find out, while the Americans find their way to the nightclub where the Resistance is hiding out. This leads to the unbearably cute reveal that Tom and B'Elanna's holocharacters, Bobby and Brigitte, are each other's long lost loves. When they're told to go work together, we're treated to an absolutely lovely scene of the two of them reminiscing about their romance before the war. Robbie and Roxann both fit the old Hollywood movie character types they're playing here to a T- they both have that vibe even as Tom and B'Elanna, so it's so much fun to let them totally play into it here, especially with the mutual pining their holocharacters have going on. I know I give the writers a hard time a lot, but I honestly couldn't have invented anything better if they'd asked me personally what AU fanfiction I'd love to stick Tom and B'Elanna in. His wholesome, earnest American soldier boy and her beautiful, worldly, tough dame with a soft spot for him are just so spot on. And when he pulls up that chair?? and sits eagerly leaning over the back of it, hanging on her every word?? looking at her, with her pouty red lips and her big brown eyes, like she's the most beautiful thing he's ever seen??? Ughhh I melt into a puddle of feels!! I have no ability to be normal about this subplot, I've been shipper trash for them since I was a kid, I can't help it!!

Anyway, Janeway and Seven return at this point, having been unable to disconnect anyone else. But they have a plan they need help with, and they play along with their 1940s personas so the others don't get suspicious. Janeway convinces Chakotay to come help her, and they use the hole in the holodeck wall to sneak into the ship. Chakotay, even while mind controlled, still seems taken with Janeway, calling her a good leader and a 'gung ho gal' (which Janeway seems to find amusing.) They find a way to disconnect the crew on the holodeck, which happens just as they're having a shoot out with the nazis, who take them prisoner. We get an explanation that B'Elanna's character's pregnancy is a holographic projection, which was a clever way to let B'Elanna have more to do in the story without the hindrance of having to hide Roxann's real-life pregnancy. (And lol at Tom reacting exactly the same way his 1940s character would when the German officer insults B'Elanna- dude, he's a hologram, he's not a real guy! He didn't really have an affair with her, it's not a real baby, you don't have to punch the pretend nazi for insulting your girl, especially when he's got a gun, and holodeck safety is off! But I'm a sucker for old-timey tropes like a guy defending the honor of his lady love, so I'll give him a pass for being reckless, because it's kinda romantic actually.)

Meanwhile, Janeway is injured and brought to the Hirogen leader, and tries to reason with him to let her crew go. He eventually agrees, but his second in command defies him when he finds out. The second Hirogen chases her through the ship, but Harry manages to set a countdown to overload the holo emitters. The crew on the holodeck are about to be shot by the holo-nazis, but the Doctor and Neelix lead a charge of Klingon warriors from the other holodeck simulation, and they hold them off long enough for the emitters to overload and delete all of the holocharacters. (The Doctor has some memorable and funny one-liners in this one too.)

Janeway gifts the remaining defeated Hirogen with holographic technology before they leave, in the hope that more of them can find a way to use it for their hunts, instead of hunting down real people. They don't commit, but they accept the gift, leaving a sliver of hope that they'll create a less violent future for themselves.

Tl;dr: A fun, exciting episode, that has action, drama, comedy, romance, and little featured moments for all of the main cast. There's a little bit of everything, all very well packaged together. One of my favorite Voyager stories, for sure!