#we all born naked and the rest is drag

[dyannawynnedayne]

Who Has The Most Gender?: Round 2

Asha: art by laurellerual, AWOIAF Page

Brienne: art by lupotterdraws, AWOIAF Page

BRACKET LINK

[therevengeoffrankenstein]

love doing drag. i was born a girl, became a boy, and now i dress like a girl for fun. it's awesome.

[covetyou]

stupid cupid

ao3 ⋆ main masterlist ⋆ series masterlist

pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader rating: Explicit (18+ only!) warnings: oral sex (f receiving), unprotected P in V, a few ass slaps, sex toys (butt plug and a dp dildo), anal play, anal sex (with a dildo), double penetration, creampie, vague fluff and emerging feelings (gross), the wings stay ON. word count: 5.2k summary: Joel makes a return to your home, this time with another gift to give. Will you be his Valentine?

A/N: he's here. he's back. baubles joel, big bawl joel, the holiday king himself. and yes, yet again something that probably shouldn't be a series is becoming a loose-fit series because I just can't quit.

I guess you can all be my Valentine's if you'd like and we can smooch and hold hands and stuff, idk (I love you 💛) gorgeous V day divider by @saradika-graphics

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You didn't expect to scream the moment you entered your bedroom after a long day at work.

Of course, you had wanted to scream all day. First, when you spent the morning fighting with a piece of software that just did not want to work. Then, when you watched your colleagues trickle out of the building well before 5pm, all on their way to romantic dates, while you were stuck in your seat making up for your - and their - lost time this morning. And when you finally stumbled from the building at 8pm, only to sit in traffic for another fucking hour? You may just have let a furious squeal escape your throat as you gripped the steering wheel.

As you finally pulled into your driveway, the only things on your mind were a hot shower and takeout food.

The first part had gone without a hitch. Mostly.

Stripping off your work clothes before you'd even got to the bathroom, you hadn't noticed a single thing different about your home. As you tossed your clothes into the hamper, nothing was amiss. Stepping under the hot stream of water, you felt totally at peace for the first time that day. There was a kind of serenity to be found in your own bathroom that didn't exist anywhere else. No, nothing was unusual at all.

And then you'd loosely wrapped a towel around you, not bothering to dry yourself, and crossed the short distance across the hall to your bedroom. You weren't to know you never closed the door this morning when you left - that was 14 hours ago, afterall. Sunset had long since been and gone, so how were you to see anything, or anyone, where it shouldn't be until you sleepily flicked the light on after closing the door behind you.

So, naturally, when your brain finally registered DANGER - INTRUDER you screamed, almost dropping your towel in the process.

And that's where you still are, locked to the spot, fight or flight truly fucking off from your mind entirely, as you stare straight ahead.

There's a man on your bed. A very familiar man. His hulking figure splayed across it like some kind of fucking renaissance painting, naked as the day he was born, except for the fairy wings strapped to his back with elastic and... is that a bow and arrow? And a pacifier?

"Santa Joel?"

Joel rolls his eyes, pulling the pacifier from his mouth with a pop.

"I ain't Santa. Does this look like Santa to you?" he says, with a sweeping broad gesture down his body. He decidedly does not look like Santa. You're not sure what he looks like, and you're not sure you care when you can't help but notice he's at half mast already. Dragging your eyes from his crotch, you look at his face, somehow sweet and angelic even with his dick out.

"Okay, well... what are you?"

Looking at you in disbelief, he slaps the pacifier down onto the bed before swinging his legs over the edge to sit upright. Only, now you're not so sure it's a pacifier. It looks like a - but why was he sucking on it?

"Ain't it Valentine's Day? I'm Cupid, stupid."

"Cupid Joel?"

"Cupid Joel. It really that difficult to work out?" With a lopsided grin he picks up the bow, miming shooting you, before resting his elbows on his knees. The soft trickle of water down your body feels more and more like you're melting by the second. A practical stranger like Joel shouldn't have been able to do this to you the first time, but the fact he was here again, charming and suave, despite the nudity and criminal activity, told you all you needed to know. You were painfully and woefully attracted to him and you would do just about anything to have a night with him again.

"Well, Cupid Joel, you broke into my house. Again."

He ignores you, lounging back on your bed and spreading his knees wide, picking up the - yep, that's definitely a butt plug - again and sucking it into his mouth. Removing it with a flourish, he looks you up and down, a question in his eyes before looking to his own cock, now much harder than it was a moment ago.

"Different guy, you said that was Santa Joel." You can see him holding back a laugh, and you'd be tempted to wipe the smirk from his face if you weren't rooted to the spot. "Anyway, that guy told me he didn't see any pictures when he was here, guessed you didn't have a Valentine. Figure everyone deserves some lovin' on the big day," he says with a shrug and a quirk of his mouth. "So, here I am. Your very own Cupid, if you'll have me, 'course. Don't gotta stay, I can leave if you want me to."

You didn't want him to leave. He'd broken into your house again, and you were exhausted, but seeing him lie there, naked in your bed with the evidence of his little dress up game strewn around him, stirred things in you. If he was willing to give you some lovin' then who were you to turn that down. You're only human, after all, and it is Valentine's Day.

So, you do the only logical thing in that moment and drop your towel without another thought.

"'Atta girl," Joel chuckles patting the bed beside him. "C'mere, got you a present."

Incredible, if slightly strange, sex with a stranger, and he bought you a present? Suddenly the day isn't feeling quite as shit as it was an hour ago, and damp and naked, you approach your bed. You're close enough to him now that you can smell him again, that soft oaky smell throwing you back to the twinkling lights of Christmas Eve. You didn't know any more about him now than you did that night, really. Though, truth be told, you hadn't tried too hard to find him. You had a good time, and the soft lit fantasy of Santa Joel was something you enjoyed exactly as it was. Unveil the man, and you threatened to ruin that fantasy. But a night with Cupid Joel? That could be a new fantasy altogether.

"S'not Christmas any more, don't remember ever having to sit on Cupid's knee to get a Valentine," you murmur, sitting back on your heels as Joel's large hand slides up your thigh. You watch as it moves from your knee to your hip and back again, fingers gently teasing your sensitive inner thigh on the way down. The only hands that had touched you since Christmas were your own, though you had spent night after night imagining his all over you. You were starting to think you'd fallen asleep at the wheel and this was all some wonderful stress dream.

But then he presses a soft kiss to your knee, the scratch of his facial hair rubbing just enough to let you know this is all very, very real and you'd very much like more of it.

"Ain't gonna make you sit on my knee for it. Might want you to sit on somethin' else though."

You laugh, rolling your eyes. "Real smooth, Cupid."

And then he's smiling up at you as he leans forward to kiss your thigh, then your belly, pushing you back with one large hand until you're laying beneath him, spread bare and open as he makes his way back down to your thighs.

It's so easy to get lost in it. The soft scratch of the scruff on his chin, rough fingertips moving gently across your thighs, soft lips pressing and sucking delicately on you, catching the last specks of water from your skin with each pass of his mouth. Your eyes drift closed just as his breath ghosts across your mound, another soft kiss soon following, and another, and another.

Until, blissfully, his soft mouth connects with your clit, tongue peaking out to swipe across the sensitive bud. It had been so long since anyone had gone down on you, long before you made the move to Texas last year, you'd almost forgotten what it felt like. Stuttering for a while, you're about to feebly mumble how good it feels, but all thoughts grind to a halt when he sucks your clit into his mouth, moaning before softly releasing. You had never had a man moan eating your cunt before, and now here you were, fairly certain angels were real and you'd gone to heaven, taken there by Cupid Joel and his wings.

"You always this late home, or did you have a date that went to shit?" he mumbles around your clit. It's a small sneaky way that he asks, wanting clarification on something he was almost certain of but you had yet to confirm. There were no pictures in your house, but that didn't mean there wasn't anyone in the picture.

Shaking your head, you gasp out a response. "Work - work went to shit. Ohh."

"Bad day?"

"Yeah, it - fuck, Joel."

It's then that you take your first opportunity to look down and see him between your legs. His hair looks even fluffier, his hands pushing your thighs open while his fingers pull you apart at the seams. His eyes closed, lashes fanned against his cheek, tongue softly lapping against your center, gusts of his hot breath billowing against your mound. He's beautiful.

And he's still in the fucking fairy wings.

A laugh primes itself, ready to explode out of you, but another firm lick sends you reeling, head hitting the mattress with a thud. Whatever he's doing to you, whatever this fucking day has done to you, you're going to come, and fast.

"Cu-Cupid Joel. Don't fucking stop."

Joel stops mid-lick, earning a frustrated moan from you, eyes widening from where he looks up between your thighs. "Already?" he asks in disbelief, noticing how quickly your legs and cunt have started to twitch.

"Stupid fucking cupid, don't stop, please."

His mouth finds your clit again and he's devouring you, lapping quickly against your cunt as your squirm into him, hips rocking your cunt against his tongue. Another day you'll wonder if it was his tongue or your movement that got you there, but right now all you know is the thick syrupy feeling in your veins as an orgasm quickly rockets through you, a strangled moan leaving your throat as you fist your sheets in your hands. You've muffled him, your thighs clamping around his head as he pushes further forward, tongue buried in your folds until you can't take it any more and you're desperately pulling away from him.

When you release your grip on his head, he gasps, cursing into the plushness of your thighs. Sitting up, he looks down at you, the bedroom light illuminating him from behind, making the wings glow on his back like your very own heavenly creature.

"Wanna see your present now?"

The fog in your head has barely cleared, your ears still fuzzy as you take in his words. Somehow a tongue on your pussy wasn't your Valentine's gift from Cupid?

"Wha - that wasn't it?"

"Nope."

"Is that it," you say, letting a thread of hope feed into your voice while you nod to where his cock hangs heavy between his legs.

"Not exactly, but you can have that too if you want it, darlin'."

You don't know what you expect, but Joel reaches over and picks the butt plug from where he'd discarded it on your bed earlier, and holds it out to you.

"Don't know if you're into it but," he holds the plug out to you, base first. The pink glass looks so delicate in his fingers, and it takes a twist of his hand for you to see it, but the heart shaped base of the plug soon becomes clear to you, brain foggy as it is, and you laugh, the sound bubbling out of your lips as your head tips back, laughing so hard you can feel your tits shake.

"You had that in your mouth."

Joel shrugs. "Better now than after it's been in your ass."

"Why're you so sure it's goin' into my ass?"

Got him, flashes through your mind when you watch his face drop. You don't let him suffer for long.

"I'm fucking with you. You're tellin' me you broke into my house but didn't go through my shit? I got three in the drawer over there."

"Three?!" he says in faux shock, rolling you over onto your front and grabbing at your ass cheeks. He pulls them apart, the cool glass in his hand pushing into your cheek as he tugs you open.

You shriek, swatting behind you as you laugh again. "Joel- what the fuck are you doing!?"

"Checkin' where you keep these three assholes."

"I'm lookin' at one asshole right now."

Now it's his turn to laugh, a deep rich sound that has your toes curling and your pulse sky rocketing, pulling you out of it with a gasp when he slaps a hand down on your ass only to watch it ripple with the impact.

"So, do you want it in?"

"Mhm, I have lube in the bedside table."

A rummage later, you wait, kicking your feet in the air, resting your chin in the cup of your palm. When he turns again, he sees you waving your ass from side to side, ready for him. Slick is coating your pussy, your upper thighs glossy with it too.

"That a present all for me?"

Pulling your cheeks apart again, he kisses each one, lightly nipping on the soft flesh as he does. And then, without much warning, he burries his tongue between your spread legs, licking a thick stripe from your clit to your asshole, groaning with every lick over your tight ring. Fisting the sheets, you press your face into the mattress. If he's going to keep doing this before he even fucks you, you're going to come again and fall asleep before he can get inside you.

"I thought this was a present for me, you're acting mighty excited back there."

"It is. Never said I wouldn't get anythin' outta it though."

A cool trickle of lube drizzles into your crack, quickly spread by Joel's large finger. He teases for a moment, circling your tight hole a little before gently pushing in.

"Fuck."

Moaning in agreement, you almost speak to agree, but then his finger is gently fucking your asshole and all words fail you. Coming just a moment ago did nothing to stop the need you had for this man, the feeling in your core growing tenfold as each moment passed.

"Fuck, Joel, put it in my ass and fuck me already."

The strangled noise from behind you startles you, and you look back for a second to see Joel's eyes pinched together and his head thrown back as his hand grips tightly around the base of his cock, wings falling forward over his shoulders as he desperately tries to relax himself.

"You can't say shit like that to me, darlin'."

"Then stick it in me, stupid."

Fingers slick with lube, he strokes the plug, before sliding the cold tip across your hole.

"Wanted go slow. Wanna watch you take it."

With a soft push, he presses the tip forward, watching as your hole accepts the cold tip with ease. This was always something you loved, even playing with your plugs by yourself when the feeling took you. It had been too long since anyone else had played with your ass, and you can't say you were too mad about Joel being the first to touch you there in so long.

The stretch is soft, and soon the bulb of the head pushes past your tight ring, making Joel hiss behind you as he watches you take it. He fucks you with it once, then twice, before pushing firmly, letting your ass take the entire length of the plug. Twisting it, he sits the heart upright, before leaning forward to kiss it. It's not often you get a man's face buried in your ass so, figuring it's karmic justice for the species, you push back into him, holding back a laugh when a small oomph escapes his lips when your ass collides with his face.

"Gonna tell Santa Joel you did that. No nice list for you."

"Then if I'm already on the naughty list, fuck me already. You promised me lovin'."

Wiggling your ass, you arch your back to expose your pussy to him even more. He hasn't so much as put a finger in you yet, and part of you is glad for it. You want to feel his cock pull you apart as it fills you, pushing past the ridge of the plug lodged in your ass. You want to feel stretched and full and ruined.

Joel seems to be on the same page, shuffling forward, dick in hand, sliding the tip through your slick folds. Catching on your entrance, he runs the tip of his dick across the plug where it's nestled inside you before pushing down, slipping into your empty hole.

And fuck is it tight. If it feels this good for you, the half-filled and stretched wide feeling of his cock in one hole and the plug in the other, you wonder how it must feel on his dick. You're wet, dripping really, soaking his cock and letting him in with ease, but there's the solid lump of the plug dragging along the top side of his cock as he pushes in.

Deciding he's going too fucking slow, too tentative when all you want is to be filled, you push back. In one swift rock you take him to the root, gasping and hitting the bed with your fists as he bottoms out, his own fingers digging into you flesh harshly.

"Sh-fuck, fuck."

Stopping, you almost pull away, worried you might have hurt him, but his grip stops you. Before you can turn or question him, he's pulling back, slamming in hard again, groaning when you take him completely.

If Santa Joel destroyed you, Cupid Joel is going to wreck you entirely. And you welcome it.

He's fucking you steadily in no time, relishing in the sound of your moans getting higher and higher in pitch with each pound.

Your knees buckle first, planting you face first in your sheets. Joel tries to pull you up, but his own knees are slipping, dragged down by the grip of your cunt on his cock. Giving in, he crowds over you, pumping deep into you despite the tangle of limbs you've become in the last few seconds. Somewhere in the scuffle you've kicked the bow and arrow, listening as they clatter to the floor just as tangled as the two of you are.

He's warm, and sweaty, and heavy above you, holding just enough of his weight on his elbows to let you breathe. Making a few more shallow thrusts, he suddenly stills, nose breathing deep into your hair.

"Shit. Can't come yet. I got one more surprise for you," he pants into your ear, offering you a soft kiss to your shoulder before his weight shifts.

You want to grab him and hold him to you, beg him to come in you already, but he has other ideas and he's pulling out before you can grab him. "Ugh."

"Gimme a sec," he grunts from behind you. "Can't - hmfph - get it over - god damn it - my balls. There. Got it. Snug but, damn, look at that."

Looking behind you, you watch as he sways from side to side, looking down where his cock bobs between his legs. He's mesmerized, and soon so are you.

He's strapped another cock just below his own, the tapered black dildo just shorter than he is. It sits flush to his full balls, anchored to them by a thick ring, another wrapped around his length. Even with the sounds of his struggle, you're amazed he got it on so quickly.

"Don't have to take both but," and he shrugs - fucking shrugs all coy and uncertain as if he hasn't reached into the depths of your brain and pulled out your most desperate fantasy of taking two cocks at once.

"Didn't wanna spook you, but given you like gettin' your asshole played with," he says with a press to the plug still sat in your ass. "Worth finding out if you're into ass fuckin' too."

You were. Fuck yes, you were. You had your own collection of toys and plugs for a reason, but it had been a criminally long time since anyone had really fucked you there. Other than Joel, it had been a criminally long time since anyone had fucked you anywhere.

"If I say yes, what else are you gonna pull out from back there? You got a bag of tricks around here somewhere."

Joel gives you a toothy grin, stroking his hand over his slicked cock before sliding two fingers straight into you. "Tool bag is downstairs, but ain't got anythin' in there I'd like to put in here darlin', don't worry."

Fingers slipping slick and wet inside you, pressing firmly upward with help of the plug still lodged in your ass, you're rendered speechless again. Reaching out for him you hold his hand in place, fucking yourself on his fingers for a moment before reaching further toward him.

Joel gasps when your hand gently cups around his balls, the thick rings of the toy strapped around them making them seem even fuller with the press of the dildo into them. You roll reach one beneath your fingers, catching the dark look in his eyes.

"You like 'em, huh? Know you liked havin' 'em in here."

"Fuck. Thought about it so much since. Dreamed of you coming back to fuck me with them again."

"Tsk, ain't disappointing you, am I?"

"Joel, you have two cocks and you're threatening me with a good time. You couldn't disappoint me right now even if you tried. And you broke into my house. Again. Now, if you don't fuck my ass with either of the cocks you have there soon I'm going to do it myself," you say, fingers stilling on his balls, before you think again and add, "Please."

"Since you asked so nicely, sweetheart. C'mon now, lemme take this out. Can put it back in this needy hole after. That's it."

It's surreal, looking up at him as he gently tugs the plug out of your ass, offering you sweet murmurs of encouragement. You know nothing about him, save for his first name and penchant for dress up games. And yet, the desire you have for him is steadily creeping upward as time ticks on. Truthfully, you didn't even really remember what he looked like when you thought about him, fingers toying with your clit as you came to memories of Christmas eve. Low light and mind melting orgasms will do that to you. All you knew was his voice and the soft filthy way he fucked you. Now, getting a proper look at him without the shield of twinkling lights and that red jacket, you can truly appreciate him. He's fit, though you suspect he's never stepped foot in a gym a day in his life. He's soft too, in the way that strong sturdy things are soft. You want nothing more than to pull him into you, to press his softness against your own as he ruts into your holes, but that's decidedly not what this is. Whatever this is, between the mild crime and fucking, it isn't that sort of soft sweet thing.

You don't know how he's going to do it, which cock is going to take which hole, but you decide you don't care when he's leaning over you to press a soft kiss to your lips. When your legs wrap around him of their own accord it's all but decided, and he takes his cock in hand - his real one - and lines up with your dripping slit, pushing in slightly before fumbling below for the other. It takes a moment - the lubed up dildo slipping from his grasp as he huffs and tries, but fails, to slot it against you. Briefly tangling your fingers with his, you take over, positioning the toy at your ass, feeling it slip in a little already as he grinds his hips forward, desperate to be balls deep in you again. With both cocks poised and ready you moan, quivering and clamping your eyes shut at merely the thought of being fucked in both holes at once.

With one more press forward, Joel slides in, the glide of lube easing the dildo into your ass as his cock reclaims its place inside your pussy.

And fuck, you have never been so full, and Joel has never fucked something so damn tight. The space his cock would normally make is taken up by the dildo, fighting for position inside of you as he rocks gently, sliding in and out of you with gradually deeper movements. The deeper he presses, the more desperate your moans become, and you catch the hesitation in his face before he can move.

"Don't you fuckin' dare stop."

This time he doesn't, wordlessly pushing into you and filling both your holes to the brim as sweat trickles down his face. You want to lick it off him, to sink your nails into his back, wings be damned, to lick the salt from his skin and bite down into the the firm flesh at his neck. But the only thing you can do before he's fucking you in earnest is grab hold, careful to avoid snapping the elastic of his wings against his shoulders as he pounds forward. There's no candlelight and rose petals here, just the raw sound of skin slapping against skin, grunts heaving into the air as you pull yourselves into each other.

"Tell me how it feels," you rasp into his ear, watching the flap of wings over his shoulder. "Tell me how it feels fucking me with both of your cocks."

"Oh, shit, it's good. So good, baby. Someone's definitely goin' on the naughty list next Christmas. You likin' this? You likin' being fucked in both holes?"

A frantic nod is all you can manage as he starts hitting a spot in you you didn't know existed, building pressure in your cunt like never before.

"I know. You're just so full, ain't you. Take two dicks so well. Pulling me in so good."

Hoisting your legs over Joel's hips, you grip around him, a loud moan bursting out of your chest as he fucks back down, deeper now at the new angle. This is it. This is how you die, you're sure of it.

"How close - How close are you. I think I'm gonna - fuck - die -AH!"

He stops grunting for a moment to force out a breathless "Am I hurtin'?"

It only takes one look at you for Joel to realize he's not hurting you at all. There you are, fucked all the way to oblivion and back, a chorus of angels screaming in your ears with each snap of his hips. You're going to come again, clit untouched and holes filled, a way you've never managed to before. You don't even know how it's happening, all you know is that suddenly your soul feels like it's being pulled straight from your bones, through the middle of you and out through your cunt and asshole at the hands of Cupid Joel himself. And then you're gushing, mind and pussy totally detached as you come, soaking his cock and your sheets.

"Yeah that's it," he grunts, his weight surrounding you once more as he pushes into your spasming holes over and over, chasing his own release. If it wasn't for the damn tight rings around his cock and balls he would've come already, but your moans in his ear and your fingers gripping his shoulders spur him forward.

"Joel."

"Gonna come. Gonna fuckin' - uh - come in your tight fuckin' pussy."

"Yes, yes, come in me, please, I can't, I'm gonna -"

Joel stiffens, hips stuttering as he gives you a few hard, shallow thrusts, before he explodes inside you, groaning so loud it makes your ears ring and cunt make one last attempt to clench around him. As much as you soaked him, he's just filled your cunt, cum pushing deep inside you with each spurt, locked in place by the fullness of the two cocks inside you. You collapse back, your ears still ringing and your limbs feeling soft and heavy.

This time you're certain black out for a moment.

But when you peel open your eyes, Cupid Joel is above you again, halo'd by the bright yellow light on your bedroom ceiling. His hair is damp, wet even, from sweat, a bead trickling down his neck and glittering in the light. And in his eyes there's concern, a worried pinch in his brow as he searches your face.

"You passed out -"

"- You're still here."

He rolls his eyes. "Way to make a guy feel special, sweetheart," he says with a cocky smile. "Just checkin' on you, but I can get goin' as long as you're okay."

You nod, the movement feeling as slurred as your speech. "You left. Last time. Saw you walkin'. Jus' wonderin'."

"Wait... you saw that? Shit, I thought you were asleep."

"No, wasn't 'sleep."

"You gonna sleep now?"

"No," you murmur with a nod, closing your eyes as you feel the last sweep of his hand down your neck, pulling a sheet over your limp form, just for you to mumble one last thing before the soft darkness takes you. "Balls... next time... please."

"You got it, darlin'."

It's an arduous journey to the bathroom when you wake up in the dead of night, remnants of cum trickling down your legs and thighs sticking together. Quickly cleaning yourself up, you check the house for signs of him, already knowing that he's long gone. You wonder how he left this time, whether he kept the wings on, whether he still had a second cock strapped to his own as he escaped into the darkness. For all you know, your cupid could have flown away on glittered fairy wings.

And then you're crawling back into bed, takeout long forgotten, any hunger you had satisfied in a different way than you expected. Somehow there's comfort in the wet patch you curl yourself around. Cupid Joel is gone from your house, but there are still traces of him here. The cum on the sheets, the ache between your legs and, as you reach to turn the light off and let darkness take you, the butt plug on your bedside table. Between the Christmas decorations stashed in a box in your closet and this plug, you were slowly amassing pieces of a man you didn't really know - gifts from a stranger that made you feel more at home in this place you'd moved to than anything else had managed to in ten months.

Tracing the outline of the heart with your finger, you stretch and snuggle back down into bed, letting exhaustion take hold and when you dream, you dream of flying.

next part

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[cherryheairt]

saw a tiktok of a guy begging his gf to keep scratching his back whenever she paused it made me think of benjicot. I keep seeing kieran's tts hes so feminist bf coded

🪶

Dramatic

"Please?"

"No."

"Please." he begged.

Sighing, Rena complied with his plea and began her delicate movements once more. This had become a nightly routine since their wedding, when the couple were finally allowed to share their chambers–though that never stopped them from sneaking around before.

She liked to keep her nails shaped finely, slightly above her fingertips and well-cleaned. Benjicot discovered the benefits of her self-care one day when they both lie in bed, naked. His head was on her bare chest, content to listen to her humming while he was resting on the plush skin. Her nails dragged up and down his back, making him shiver almost violently.

When she paused, he groaned loudly, "don't stop."

Giggling, she continued her motions til he was asleep.

This had been going on for months. When the couple sat in bed after their coupling, knowing their nights were spent all to themselves instead of serving their house and Lord and Lady. Benjicot was weak to her touch.

Though, he hadn't always been so aware.

Her lashes, thick and long, were the result of oiling them before bed. Her hair, volumous and long because of the messages she worked on during her baths. Legs and arms smooth from concentrated shaving. Her unique floral scent, only present thanks to the perfumes from Dorne.

Many things went into a noble ladies' looks, though any unknowing man thought that it just came naturally. 'Just born pretty and smelling good,' was a common misconception in their life. Also, an excuse for the men to be the opposite.

Benji was one of the clueless ones, in awe of Rena's beauty and always complimenting her scent with his head shoved to her neck.

It was only after they married that he found out how long it took to get that way. He would be out of their shared bath for a half-hour, just watching dumbstruck as she razed her limbs. "You have to do this every bath?" He asked, wincing when he thought she might nick her leg.

Rena laughed, shaking her head. "Once a week, maybe."

He sat back in his chair, crossing his arms. He was only covered by his waist cloth, content with sitting in the bathroom until she was done. "You don't have to, if you don't want to." Benjicot said. "I won't mind."

She smiled up at him, grateful that he was he husband and not some ignorant old brute. "I know, I like my routines. It makes me feel pretty." Rena preened under his loving stare.

"You're always pretty." He declared with a soft kiss to her knuckles. He nearly leaped with joy when she stood, done with washing and shaving–only to deadpan when she slathered herself in scented oils outside of the bath.

Tonight was like all the previous ones, Ben insisting that he could not sleep without her tender massages. It had been a long day for both of them, both content to relax in their shared silence. Until she paused her motions to move potsitions.

For minutes at a time, she would scratch, wondering how he had not fallen asleep yet. He would moan whenever she paused, pleading desperately. "You won't die without it for one night, my love." She snorted quietly in the candlelit room.

"I might. How do we know that I won't?" He grunted, face deep into her smooth neck.

"My husband, killed not by the sword of a fearsome enemy, but by not getting enough attention from his wife." Rena sighed.

He nodded, smiling. "That will be put on my gravestone." They both laughed.

"You really can't sleep without it?"

"Truly." Benji answered.

"Hm. What if I couldn't sleep, would you not return the favor?" Rena asked, amused.

Benjicot answered by lifted his hand to her face, showing off his blunt calloused fingertips. "Gotta keep 'em short."

"Ah, yes. For swordfighting.' She mused.

"No, for you."

"Me?" Bemused, she glanced down at him, only to see his smug face.

"Gross, Ben." She said, through a poorly hidden laugh. Benjicot looked very pleased with himself as he wetly kissed her check, producing a dramatic 'pop!' sound.

"You weren't complaining earlier."

Rena shoved his face away, groaning at his boorishness. "Go to bed." She huffed.

"I will, once you scatch my back."

They held prolonged eye contact, neither backing down until Rena blinked accidentally. "Ha!" Benjicot cheered. "I win."

Rena rolled her eyes, knowing she couldn't argue with their years-long tradition. Any petty and unserious argument must be solved with a staring contest to swiftly end it, lest it be turned into a serious one.

She sat back once more, hair a mess around her when it scrunched into the pillow. Benji followed, laying right were he always did, on her chest. He sighed with content when she started moving her nails in patterns across his skin.

"Thank you, my love."

Rena hummed her response, kissing his messy hair goodnight.

[thatsmzbitchtoyou]

Please come back... Oneshot

Word count: 2681

Y/N was found by Nick Fury a year ago in a Hydra facility that was mysteriously blown up while S.H.I.E.L.D was surveilling it.  She was a mutant born with the ability to manipulate energies, which had a broad spectrum of uses, but Hydra focused on her ability to take life.  Life itself is an energy, and Hydra had wanted to use it to their advantage and make her a walking angel of death.  Unfortunately their efforts backfired, and Fury found her as the only thing that had survived her self-made explosion.

He propositioned her to join the Avengers, hoping to help her hone her abilities for better use, or as their own last resort when there were no other options.  She agreed, and was accepted by the rest of the Avengers happily.  Y/N was quiet, still dealing with night terrors and the demons of her past with Hydra.  Bucky had been quick to help her through it, being the first to reach her room each night when she woke the whole tower with her screams.  She had naturally gravitated towards him, and they were rarely seen without the other.  

It was pretty obvious to everyone but them that they had feelings for each other, but no one wanted to put that pressure on either of them, so they let them be to figure it out on their own.  Bucky felt damaged, like he didn’t deserve her, while Y/N was afraid to put him in danger as she still worked on getting a hold of her abilities.  She knew they were both mentally still healing, and she didn’t want to derail his efforts or ruin their friendship by telling him about her feelings that may or may not be reciprocated.  

After her first year with the Avengers and many hours of training and working on figuring out how to handle her abilities better, Tony decided to throw a party for Y/N to celebrate her joining the team.  That night was quite the rager, with dancing, singing, and lots and lots of drinking.  Y/N had come out of her shell as she drank, and the rest of the Avengers had cheered her on as she enjoyed herself.  Thor had brought quite a lot of Asguardian mead, and Bucky had indulged himself a little too much.  As the party continued that night the Avengers were too far gone and hadn’t paid attention as Y/N dragged Bucky out of the party, or seen them start making out passionately in the elevator.  

The next morning Y/N had woken up entangled in Bucky’s arms, which wasn’t new due to their previous times with him helping her through nightmares, but this time they were both naked.  She had sprang away from him, waking Bucky up and making him jump out of bed ready to fight.  They stared at each other in panic, realizing they were both naked and grabbing the bed sheets to cover themselves.  Y/N had shut down at that moment, shutting her eyes tight.  “I’m sorry,” she had whispered before turning, grabbing her clothes off his bedroom floor and running from his room.  

After that they hadn’t spoken again, and avoided each other like the plague.  As much as it worried and confused everyone else, whenever someone tried asking either of them about it they refused to talk and would either walk away or change the subject.  Unfortunately they couldn’t avoid each other forever.

“Avengers!  Assemble!”  Steve called out one day.

Friday’s alarms started blaring, and everyone quickly got ready and loaded into the Quinjet.  Fury filled them in over comms as they flew to the drop point.  “Looks like a subset of Hydra operatives have been messing around with more otherworldly things they shouldn’t be.  A door has been opened into another dimension, and basically��we’ve got vampires.”

“Vampires?” Tony scoffed.  “So what do you need us for?  Just wait till morning and the sun will kill them.  Or, oh!  We’ll drop ten tons of garlic on them.  Where’s my wooden stake?”

“These vampires are a little more than urban legend, Stark,” Fury said in an annoyed tone.  “So far all we know is that the sun only maims them.  Silver bullets have been loaded into your weapons.  They are the only things that have proven to work, so aim for the heart,” he said.  “Y/N.” She perked up and looked at the screen.  “We might need the angel of death on this one.”  She inhaled deeply and nodded.  Bucky watched the interaction with a deep frown, glancing at Y/N as she settled back into her seat.  She flexed her fingers and shook out her hands as she continued to breathe deeply.  Wanda approached her as Fury ended the call and they were soon reaching the area.

“You ready?” Wanda asked her quietly, kneeling down in front of her.

Y/N looked up at her as her power overtook her body, making her eyes black and purplish-blue veins spread around the skin of her eyes.  “I’m ready,” she answered, her voice distorting to sound deep and gravelly.  

Bucky and the rest of the team hadn’t fully seen what she could do, only glimpses during training, so seeing her like this was jarring.  The hanger door opened on the Quinjet and they all prepared to jump.  Y/N didn’t need a parachute with her ability to manipulate the kinetic energy she would have in falling, but Bucky did.  “Can I catch a ride, doll?” he asked her, trying to break the silence between them.

Y/N looked up at him, her black eyes intimidating.  She nodded and opened her arms as if to hug him.  He stepped into her embrace, then she fell backwards out of the Quinjet.  They hurtled toward the ground headfirst, and as scared as Bucky was, he held her tight, trusting her to save them.  After what felt like an eternity she spread her arms and twisted them both in a kind of whirlwind that slowed them down, and then glided them onto the ground where they held each other tight and rolled in the grass.  They finally came to a stop with Bucky hovering over Y/N.  He let out a huffed laugh as he tried to get his bearings.  “Thanks,” he said, looking down at her.

Y/N didn’t say anything and just pushed him by his shoulders to get off of her.  He stood quickly and helped her up before getting his gun ready.  They stayed close to each other for a while, hearing the other Avengers touchdown, their voices whispering through the comms as they spread out.  The first scream came from Wanda, and Y/N bolted toward her.  

“Y/N, wait!” Bucky called out, then he was tackled from behind.  He fought with whatever was behind him as it pawed at his uniform, trying to rip at the guards on his neck that had been added for this mission.  He was finally able to kick it off and turn around to see what it was.  If he had to guess what vampires looked like, this was pretty close to his worst nightmares.  It looked like a regular man, but a whole head taller than him, with angular features that made it look unearthly and glowing red eyes in the dark.  The moon illuminated its iridescent skin and glinted off its two long sets of fangs.  “You are one ugly motherfucker,” Bucky scoffed before shooting at it.  The vampire didn’t move out of the way in time and was shot through the heart, letting out a gut wrenching, high pitched scream as it spasmed and fell to the earth.  Bucky watched its body begin to melt from the gunshot wound, the silver disintegrating it from the inside out.

“Fury was right, aim for the heart,” he said into his comms earpiece.  “The silver disintegrates them.  They’re strong, but not too fast.”

Y/N was on the other side of the field they had landed in, trapping vampires in her energetic grip as the other Avengers ended them one by one.  The Avengers seemed to have the upper hand, the fight attracting any other vampires that may have tried to explore the newfound dimension.  Bucky rejoined the group soon after, shooting more vampires dead as they arrived to try and join the fight.  

Bucky and Steve were physically fighting more of them.  They were getting overwhelmed and one vampire ripped off one of Bucky’s neck guards, its teeth dangerously close to him.  “Buck!” Steve yelled out, trying to get through the vampires to him. 

Y/N heard Steve and whipped her head to Bucky’s direction.  “NO!” she screamed.  She stretched her hands forward, her power ripping through the earth and scattering the vampires around Bucky and Steve.  Her body flew forward, her hands shaped like claws in a cupped position as she gripped each vampire’s life in her hands, making their bodies twitch in unnatural and strange ways, grunting and whimpering in pain.  Her power spread across the field and beyond, rooting out all the vampires that hadn’t joined the fight yet, their stiff bodies floating towards her.  Bucky lay watching in shock.  Her black eyes and the veins around her eyes were now glowing indigo, the same color swirling around her fingers and sucking the vampires’ lives out of them.  “Enough,” she growled, and her hands closed into fists.  The vampires’ screams filled the field, ripping through the air as their life forces were taken.  Each one went suddenly silent, and the resounding thuds of their bodies hitting the ground sounded like an earthquake.  Bucky looked around at the dead vampires with wide eyes as he caught his breath.  She saved him.  She had saved all of them.

Bucky looked up to see Y/N panting and shaking as she floated back down to the ground, then collapsed.  “Y/N!” he ran over to her, falling to his knees as his hands hovered over her, unsure of what to do.  The other Avengers all came running to her.  

“Friday?” Tony asked.

“All vitals are stable,” Friday’s voice echoed from Tony’s suit.  “From what we know of her abilities, the immense amount of energy she has taken in from taking so many lives needs to either be expelled immediately or absorbed, which will take time.  She is in a coma of her own making to heal.”

“How long?” Bucky asked, looking up at Tony.

“Unknown,” Friday answered.

They all sat in silence, staring at Y/N.  Bucky fought back tears as he leaned down and cradled her into his arms, picking her up and walking to the Quinjet.  He sat on one of the larger chairs, making sure she was settled in his lap comfortably as the others filed in.  Bucky’s flesh hand pushed her hair back and traced her face as he looked down at her.  Steve walked up as the Quinjet lifted off, squeezing Bucky’s shoulder.  “She’ll be okay, Buck.”

“We don’t know that,” Bucky whispered.  “What if she never wakes up?”

“She will,” Steve reassured him.  He walked away and Bucky held her close, pressing his forehead against her forehead.  

“Come back to me, Y/N,” he whispered, nuzzling her nose.  “I know you’re not talking to me right now but…I need you.  You can’t leave me.  Please come back.”

***

“Hey doll, good morning.  You’re looking better today.  Got more color in your face.”

“I know that neither of us really remember anything from that night.  That Asguardian shit really took it out of me.  I wish I did…I always thought that if we had a first time it would be special.  But that’s not our style, is it?  Um…I don’t regret it, though.  I wish you would have stayed that day, so we could have talked it out.  But I guess I understand why you ran, too.  Maybe we can try again, for real this time.  I’ll take you out on a real date, we won’t get wasted, maybe some dancing.  Or just staying in like we usually do.  I don’t care.  As long as it’s with you.”

“Y/N.”

“Please wake up.”

***

Y/N’s eyes fluttered open and she breathed deeply.  Her body felt sore and stiff, and as she tried to slowly move to stretch she felt something in her hand.  She looked down to see Bucky holding her hand, his upper body laid on her bed and fast asleep.  She smiled as she turned to lay on her side to face him, groaning at the effort.

Her groan woke him up and his eyes snapped open, his head jerking up to look at her.  “Y/N!” he said loudly, standing and hugging her.  “Oh my god, doll.  You’re awake!  She’s awake!” he called out towards the hallway as he looked back down at her.  

“Hey Buck,” she croaked, her voice gravelly from being unused.  She cleared her throat as his hands cupped her face.  “Water?” she asked.

“Oh, yeah, yeah,” he nodded frantically, letting go of her and grabbing a water bottle he had next to the bed, bringing it to her lips.  

She drank a lot then sighed heavily when she finished.  “Thank you,” she whispered.  “How long was I out?”

Bucky grimaced.  “Three weeks, three days and ten hours,” he said quietly.

Y/N nodded, opening her mouth to speak when her door flew open.  “Y/N!” Wanda’s voice cried out as she rounded the bed, standing next to Bucky as she touched Y/N’s face, her own power flitting around Y/N to check on her.  “Are you okay?  How are you feeling?”

“Tired,” Y/N said, her eyes blinking slowly.  

“Don’t you ever scare us like that again,” Steve’s voice came from behind her, and he leaned on the bed so he could look at her.  He looked stressed but relieved and it made Y/N smile.

“Yes, Cap,” she muttered.

Dr. Choi walked in the room and shooed everyone away to do an examination.  When she was done she called them all back in.  “She’s fine.  It seems the coma worked to absorb all that extra energy.”  She turned to Y/N.  “Just try not to end an entire population of vampires again anytime soon.”

Y/N huffed a laugh.  “Yes, doc.”  The team each visited her, making sure she was alright and commending her for her abilities and her sacrifice to help them all.  Once they all left she was alone with Bucky again.  “You stayed the whole time,” she said, reaching her hand out to him.

He sat back on the chair he was on before and took her hand again.  “Of course I did,” he replied.  

“I heard you,” Y/N said.  Bucky’s eyes slightly widened and he blushed, but nodded.  “I was asleep but…not fully.”  She squeezed his fingers.  “I’m sorry I ran away from you that day.  I couldn’t remember anything from the night before and I just…I was scared of your reaction, and embarrassed, and afraid that I had done something wrong–”

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Bucky shook his head, leaning toward her more.  

Y/N nodded.  “I don’t regret it, either,” she whispered.  “I don’t regret you.”

Bucky's breath sputtered at her words and he blinked back tears, his lips twitching up in a smile  “I love you, doll,” he whispered back.  “I’ve loved you for a long time.”

Y/N smiled.  “I love you, too,” she said.  They smiled at each other for a long moment.  “Can I have a kiss?  You know, to help me heal faster?” Y/N asked, her smiling turning into a teasing smirk.

Bucky laughed, then stood and leaned forward.  He slowly pressed his lips against hers, kissing her like he was afraid she would break if he was too firm.  Y/N’s free hand lifted up to cup the side of his face, holding him to her as she kissed him back.  When he pulled away he didn’t go far, his nose nuzzling hers.  “So about that date?”

[sqrkyclean]

i really like that miller has a stereotypically masculine name, appearance, even archetype but hes not a boy. hes agender no matter his pronouns or appearance. that makes me happy :)

this means a lot to me!!! no matter what his presentaton is, he (as we all are) was born naked and the rest is just drag in some way or another.

[cdragons]

Blood & Pain - Druig x Hecate!Eternal Reader (Kaetlyn) Oneshot

Pairings: Persephone!Eternal Reader & Hecate!Eternal Reader, ft. Sephia x Ikaris, and Kaetlyn x Druig Word Count: ~3.5k Summary: A lil' oneshot to show how Druig and his wife got together, and what way to show that than with hot and heavy SMUT! Warning(s): SMUT (if you are under 18 DNI), some angst if you squint, mention of bullying (sort of), slight mention of blood, knife conjuring, Druig is obsessed and we love that, I just really wanted to write something to get me into the Halloween Spirit Notes: This a surprise oneshot to my wonderful beta reader, @valeskafics! She is in the middle of midterms, so I wanted to gift her a lil' oneshot to thank her for all of her help and encouragement! She is an incredibly kind and patient human and one of the best and most incredible fanfic writers for HOTD, GOT, and the Ewanverse on Tumblr! If you love any of Ewan Mitchell's works or are a fan of GOT/HOTD, I highly recommend checking her blog out! You will not regret it! Also, the BIGGEST thank you and shout of love to @ethereal-athalia my good man in the storm, I have never clicked so well with someone on this platform when it came to crazy ideas, and thanks to her, I can write out my ideas and share them on this site!If you want to read more from this AU, please click on this masterlist!

No matter how the rest of the team believed, what ideas his own children liked to conjure, how the tale was spun by generations -- Druig did not fall in love with his wife at first sight. He knew who you were, Kaetlyn, a fighter who could manipulate the shadows of every living being. You would later the mother of surgery and modern medicine- and even beyond that, a scholar and pioneer for feats of magic that remain untouched even by the greatest of the Supremes in the Mystic Arts.

He couldn’t remember the time he first realized that he loved you- he only knew that when he recognized it, he had fallen so deeply that he could no longer remember what it felt like not to be in love you. You were everywhere. There was simply no place left on this planet where Druig would wander that you wouldn’t be there beckoning him to you.

It was almost shameful how long it took for him to fall in love with you in comparison to how quickly you adored him. It had taken him over 100 years for you to fully gain his attention, and another 200 years for you to wait for him to confess his reciprocation. 200 years of clever banter and harmless flirting that shifted to longing gazes and lingering touches, until you finally had enough of his lame patience and reluctance. You dragged Druig to a secluded area- away from the Domo and humans alike, and took his face in your hands and forced his lips to yours. One kiss become two, two became five, and soon you and he had joined together in an explosion of passion that would bind you to him for the rest of eternity.

The sun had long set, and stars and moon glittered in the night. The two of you were as naked as the days you were born. Your need to have each other was beyond a matter of lust, it was primal need. Druig had torn your clothes without any thought- he starved for you. Any barrier that separated your body from him was flung away. Your skin glowed in the moonlight, every curve and line of your frame gloriously highlighted for his eyes alone. His lily-bloomed skin laid under you, ready for anything and everything you would give him. He still remembered the words you whispered to warn him all that would come as a result of your love.

“Druig, I must warn you,” you whispered. Druig kissed you across your collarbone, and you tugged on his hair to gaze into his eyes. “I can be very selfish- I will have all of you, or none of you.” 

He could feel your wet center throb with each wince that escaped his lips. “You already do, my love,” he whispered back, silently pleading you to let him continue. “I swear you do.”

He craved you. He desperately wanted to map his tongue and lips across your body; he wanted to memorize the feel of your skin, the smell of your sweat, the taste of your cum. Whatever you gave him, he wanted it all.

Pushing him to lay on his back, you crawled forward to hover your soaked cunt over his cock. “I’m selfish- relentlessly so, any other woman that catches your eye will feel no end of my wrath.” You lowered yourself only enough so that his tip could paint its precum on your clit, the corner of your lips curled into a cruel smirk in response to the strangled moan he let out. Your body trembled from the sheer delight you felt at witnessing the surly telepath whine so pathetically from your touch.

“Please,” he begged, “please angel. Let me feel you- I need it- I need you.” Druig could feel his eyes filled with tears from the overwhelming pleasure that would fill him. “I want to touch you, please-”

Druig’s whimpers were brutally cut off as you placed a finger over his lips.

“Shhhh- not yet,” you breathily whispered, “you need to earn your pleasure, my love.” Your pupils dilated seeing him take your finger in his mouth, and used his tongue to suck on it. “I need to know if you understand what it means to love me, and have it in return.”

Before Druig could respond, you lowered yourself further- until he filled you to the brim with only a single thrust. You were so taken back by the sheer size of him that you felt your climax wash over as every part of you trembled from the intense euphoria.

“By Arishem,” you thought, “how is he so big?”

You wanted to make him beg, to drown him in so much pleasure that it would hurt. Whatever pain you inflicted on him now, it was nothing compared to the torture you experienced in having to wait for him to admit his feelings. You lost count on the number of times you pleasured yourself at the thought of the man beneath you. So many times, you wanted to sneak into his bed, and wake him to witness the maddening effect he had on you. But having him inside you was better than anything you could imagine.

Gripping his shoulders, you lifted yourself until only his tip remained-before slamming your hips down to his- repeating this motion until falling into a rhythm that was accompanied by a song of wild moans and gasps. Everything about this man- the aquamarine shine in his eyes, the glowing pallor of his body, the tone and strength in his muscles- screamed the image of perfection to you.

“Druig, Druig,” you could only cry out his name- as if it was the only word you knew, “I love you, I love you, I love- FUCK!” You screamed out at the feel of his hips moving to meet yours, and before you could blink, he shifted your positions so that you would be laying on your back as he caged your body with his frame.

Druig couldn’t take it anymore, it tormented him to not take you without abandon. For so long, he dreamed of having you like this- warm, teasing, and his. You called yourself selfish, so what? Druig knew what it meant to be selfish, to want to possess and devour every part of you until there was nothing left for anyone else to take or see.

You must have blind to not see his desperation for you. How could someone so bright and brilliant not understand that he would gladly let you tear him limb by limb if it meant to be loved by you.

To have you under him like this- writhing in ecstasy, crying from exquisite pain, your soft curves molded against his hard frame- it was as if this was his true purpose. It was not to assist in humanity’s evolution, but to belong to you as you would belong to him. It was to have you like this at every waking moment- filling you with love, and overwhelming you with desire.

As he continued to slam his hips against yours with reckless abandon, he trailed his lips down your throat, sharply nipping your collarbones, until all that he could reach were your heaving breasts that moved in tandem with his thrusts. He was so enraptured by your presence that when you peaked once more on his cock, his rutting only grew more relentless and rougher than what you thought was possible.

Stars, he loved the way you screamed his name. He wanted everyone to know it was him who made you mad with elation. He wanted the whole world to know that you, Kaetlyn- gloriously headstrong, brilliantly beautiful Kaetlyn- the wielder of shadows, and master of the darkness and night, was begging for his cock like a common whore.

“Look at you,” he snarled- jaw clenched so tightly that his teeth threatened to break from the pressure, “what were you saying m’darling? I could have sworn that you were trying to get me to beg- but look at you now.” Your head thrown back as your hair sprayed around you like a beckoning halo as you babbled nonsensically, legs wrapped around his torso to minimize any potential loss of distance, your wickedly sharp nails cutting into his skin to leave vibrant trails on his back as blood leaked from the wounds. “You can’t get enough of me, can you?”

Your only response was whimpers and cries, so Druig decided to be a bit cruel, and slowed down before pulling himself out and stopping completely. The loss of your warmth was complete agony, but the consequence was well-worth the pain at the sight of your immediate reaction.

“DRUIG!” You cried out in pain. You tried to move yourself to feel more of him, but the smug bastard had pinned your torso down- and your body was still recovering from the overstimulation of your previous orgasm. Still maintaining his grip, Druig towered above you in order to gain a better vantage point. Staring down at the aftermath of his onslaught, he almost came right then and there. You were the very likeness of desired perfection- tears had leaked from your eyes and were trailing down your face, your flush travelled down to the tips of your breasts, and there was not a corner of your body that wasn’t covered in marks left by his teeth.

“Please, Druig, please-” you begged him, “don’t stop! I need you!” You felt you were dying from his loss, you felt so empty. It was like you finally felt complete, and when he pulled away it was as if all the air in your lungs were completely snuffed out. You couldn’t bear the pain- it was tearing you apart. You tried to pull him down to get him to kiss- you needed his love; nothing would ever be enough- not when it came from him.

Your soul craved his.

Crystalline blue eyes softened momentarily before steeling once more to grip your hips even tighter, Druig barely lowered himself- just enough to mix his throbbing tip’s precum with your slick. No matter how much he adored you -- however much he wanted to give in to you-- he needed you to admit that you were his first.

“Open your eyes,” his rasp sent chills to run throughout your entire body, “and see what you do to me.” When you looked into his eyes, you were taken back by how dark they had become- that beautiful pale hue had minimized into a thin ring from how dilated his pupils had become. It wasn’t just lust that swam in his gaze, but also mania and lunacy. His piercing gaze, along with his heaving breaths created such a stark contrast to the calm and collected mask he showcased to everyone- humans and Eternals alike. Druig looked less like the usual apathetic god everyone thought him to be, and more like a raging terrifying beast that fed on savagery and only cared to fulfill his most primal urges.

You have never seen such a magnificent and enthralling sight before, and you prayed to the stars above that this time would not be the last.

Druig could hear your thoughts, and he didn’t care how insane he looked. He wanted you to see all that you did to him- how you engrained yourself into his very soul and being. You called yourself infatuated, but he was obsessed. And as aware he was of his own delusion; he didn’t ever plan to stop.

Fuck Arishem- fuck anyone and everyone who would dare keep you from him. He didn’t care the lengths he would have to go to keep you by his side. Let them paint him the villain- it was all worth it if it meant having your love.

“Tell me.” He pleaded you, “please, my angel- tell me your mine. Let me in, I want all of you and only you.” His eyes held so much love and trust that it took your breath away, and it made your heart swell with so much adoration for the man that caged you between his arms. There was only one thing to say, the only thing that mattered that would seal a vow between you both for the rest of eternity.

Summoning all your courage, leaving behind all your bravado, letting all your insecurities to be put on display, you whispered, “Yes.”

Immediately after you condemned your soul to his, Druig speared himself into you to the hilt with a single thrust, and pressed his lips to yours to drink in every one of your throes of passion. Setting off at a relentless pace, it was not long until another brutal climax sheared through your body. With each push, Druig’s cock hit that spot inside you – resulting in stars to bloom around you as your mind was clouded in lust. With each thrust of his length, tremendous stimulation tearing through your walls. The sound of skin-on-skin surrounded the area around you, creating a forcefield of bliss that could not be intruded by anyone but the two immortal beings engaged in their act of fervor. The only other sounds that could be heard were the gentle whispers of the night breeze, along the soft chirpings of the crickets.

Feeling his cock throbbing, Druig knew that he was reaching his limit. However, he refused to finish without you going over the edge with him. Setting an even more ruthless pace, he could feel the trembles that ran throughout your body as he fights to hold control over himself, and not releasing himself deep inside you. Only being able to get a few more thrusts in, Druig viciously cursed as he let out a snarled cry – the loudest you have ever heard from him. With one final push, he came deep inside your cunt, painting your walls with his cum as you felt his warmth flooding inside you. The sensation of the thick ropes of cum engulfing your cunt triggered your final climax, and you felt the evidence of your indescribable pleasure that washed over you mixed with his thick cum that overflowed within you to the point where it leaked out of your core.

Refusing to part, the both of you let yourselves bask in the bliss-filled bubble that was the aftermath of your lovemaking. But as happy as you were, dread filled your mind as you realized what you had done. You knew how the others saw you. How Kingo and Sprite liked to poke fun at your darkness, how Ikaris would voice his doubts of your ability to protect with ill-hidden snarks to Ajak, even the humans would whisper in fear at the sight of you soaked in deviants’ blood in the aftermath of your many onslaughts. It was bad enough that they looked down on Sephia for how she so faithfully remained at your side, you couldn’t let the man you loved be dragged down as well – it would have been too much.

No matter how Druig liked to present himself as cool and indifferent to human conflict – you knew that it was far from true. You’ve watched him for centuries, and there was no one else on the world whose soul was as gentle and carried more love for humanity than even Ajak and Sersi. You couldn’t let your own selfish desires bring his ruin, you refused to let that happen.

“This was a mistake,” you forced yourself to say as you faced away from him to locate your attire, you couldn’t bear it if he saw how much it killed you to say it, but it needs to be done, “I never should have let it go this far.” You crawled on your knees to reach your tunic, “Let’s just forget this ever hap-”

A vicious growl cut you off as Druig’s hands grabbed your wrist to the point where you were sure bruises would show tomorrow. “Don’t,” he snarled, “even try to insult me by suggesting to pretend that this never happened- that we never happened.” Pulling you back to cage you in his arms, Druig buried his face into the crook of your neck- as if imprinting the scent of your skin to his memory in fear that you would disappear before his very eyes.

Leaning forward to whisper in your ear. “How could you ever think for a second that I could possibly go on with my life after finally having you? Tell me angel, how do you expect a man to simply live on weeds after finally partaking a drop of ambrosia?”

Your heart melted at his words, but you could not let yourself be swayed. “Druig,” you started, “you don’t understand the cost of being with me. You deserve someone who is kind and warm and-”

Druig forced you to look into his eyes. “Stop. Don’t you dare let the words of those idiots make you see yourself as less than the perfection you are. Do you know what I see when I look at you?” His eyes softened for what he was about to ask next. “Let me show you, my love.”

As his pale blue irises glowed into a golden hue, making him transform into a sight akin to godliness, you opened your mind to his, and what you saw shook you to your core. You saw scenes of yourself travelling through your shadows, taking down dozens of deviants with only a few arrows from your quiver, as well as the aftermath of you standing alone in a field of mangled corpses dyed with black tarlike blood. You saw yourself as the humans did, embodied darkness that killed with cold precision and controlled beings with their own shadows.

But soon you saw moments that you had forgotten, moments that you believed were private. You saw yourself sneaking away at night in the cover of darkness to watch ghosts roaming aimlessly, along with the pity in your eyes from hearing their sorrows. You saw yourself in your room at the Domo, surrounded by scrolls from topics ranging from rare spells to hand-drawn diagrams of the human body. You witnessed the smile spread across your face when you helped a spirit finally reach their peace to the other world. You saw the time Ajak approached you to ask for your assistance in delivering the children from expectant mothers in the village. You saw yourself come outside the tent to hand over the child of your first delivery to the father, who thanked you with tears in his eyes after being informed that both the child and mother safe and healthy. You watched yourself stare in shock of his praise before seeing the child reach for your finger, and let yourself feel the disbelief that flooded you at the sight of pure innocence staring back at you.

“You call yourself selfish and unkind,” Druig’s voice brought you back to reality- his eyes returned to that familiar blue, “but that couldn’t be more untrue.” He softly pressed his forehead to yours as he continued. “Would a selfish person spend night after night gathering impossible texts to study for an unnamed spirit to finally reach peace? Would someone unkind research every possibility in order to ensure that a mother could hold her child? How could you let someone as pathetic as Ikaris and Sprite taint your own views of yourself so much? Kaetlyn, I was a coward for waiting for so long to tell you my feelings, I was selfish in thinking of my own pride and dignity was more important than your strife. But still you loved me, and I could not be more grateful for your existence for that.”

Tears ran down your cheeks as you felt all your walls crashing down, how could someone so frustratingly wonderful exist? If this was all a dream, you never wanted to wake up. But just to be sure, you took a stone that just fit into the palm of your hand and transmuted it into a silver dagger. Holding it just above his heart, you warned him one final time.

“Druig, no matter what sweet words you whisper, I am selfish. I could kill you now without hesitation. I could cut you and cause you so much pain that you would beg for death. Do you still wish to remain by my side?”

Staring back at you with only ardent love and unfiltered adoration, Druig grasped your hand and dragged the blade’s tip across his chest. Thin trails of dark red life leaked from the wounds, but there was no indication of pain. “If loving you is pain,” he whispered as he wiped the blood from his wound with his finger, only to smear it across your lips, “then let me bleed.” He repeated those same words a year later, when he married you in a private ceremony after the two of you sneaked away from the village’s harvest banquet.

Tagging: @valeskafics, @ethereal-athalia, @aphroditesmoon, @3vergr3en, @its-actually-minicika, @fivebefore21, @asa-do-your-thing, @hypnoticmistake, @blog-100, @tacorice, @prettyvintageafternoon, @deanthomaswhore, @angelnyx, @henesseyhaven, @xcharlottemikaelsonx, @sunphyre, @beananacake, @atomwritez, @vikingqueen28, @getawaycardotmp3, @redheadspark, @heliosphere8, @bambiandbam, @americanprometheuss, @chaoticdetectivewidow, @mazerunnermarvel, @bryandechartisasmolbean,

Let me know if you want to be tagged! Have a happy October! Please be kind, and leave a like/comment/reblog!

[splatooshy]

would you do one of those nsfw alphabet headcannons for bi!damon??

omg yes. okay wait i’m gonna go look up the template rq brb. i might not get through all the letters in this, so stay tuned for part 2.

damon salvatore nsfw alphabet, a-g:

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

with casual hookups & one night stands, damon MIGHT allow his partner to rest and cuddle with him, if he’s in a good mood. otherwise he’ll compel them to leave (with memories of whatever post sex cuddles they wanted) (what? he’s not a MONSTER! …wait. okay, you know what i meant). or he’ll just… eat them.

after augustine, he prefers not to sleep alone, but often wakes up to find that he’s killed his bedpartner in his sleep. which is REALLY inconvenient to find first thing in the morning. so after the first couple of times that happens, he starts compelling people to leave (the MINUTE they’re finished. no afterglow for him or anyone he tangoes with).

with actual lovers? damon’s a total octopus. and a bed hog. he likes to stretch out & be cuddled cuddle in his sleep, which most people find amusing/endearing (specifically rose, elijah, enzo, alaric 50% of the time), but sometimes, his lovers find that having a damon-sized limpet clinging onto them is just Too Much (alaric the other 50% of the time, when it’s 7am and he needs to get up for work but damon’s naked and wrapped around his entire body and he can’t move, damnit, but also he doesn’t really want to because why is damon so warm??? and shit, he’s got some serious morning wood which will NOT go down & he has to be at work in half an hour, he can’t show up late & with a raging hard-on at that. which is definitely part of damon’s Evil Plan to keep ric home all day, he muses as he calls in sick, catching the twitch of damon’s mouth). (elena and stefan show up at ric’s loft during recess, because elena’s Concerned & has no sense of boundaries and stefan just takes one look at alaric making coffee, shirtless and tired & scruffy like he’s just rolled out of bed (he has) and smelling of his (stefan’s, not ric’s) brother, raises an eyebrow and says flatly: “damon keep you up last night?” and ric’s about to reply that no, actually, damon wouldn’t let him up this morning, but then a VERY naked damon struts out and interrupts, pouting that: “Ric! Coffee does NOT take this long to make!” and pretending not to notice the nosy elephants in the room at first (elena blushes and tries to look elsewhere, stefan raises his other eyebrow and stifles a sigh). THEN, in true damon fashion, he oh-so-suddenly notices his brother & their girlfriend and is like, “oh? are we having a four way? i mean, i’m down. but my brother, ric? kinky. i didn’t know you had it in you.”)

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

damon spends far too long admiring his own body for this to be an easy question, but his best feature (in his humble opinion & aside from the obvious answers) is probably his mid-lower torso. hey, it’s not his fault he was born with a perfectly thin & slutty waistline. (elijah can completely wrap his hands around damon’s waist and they both think that’s beautiful).

with each partner, it differs — and he’s had a lot of sexual partners in his time. usually it’s some variation on the classic breasts vs. ass vs. cock (his drag queen ex from the eighties had a very impressive array of the three) (he may or may not be slightly fixated on elijah’s dick. just a bit. because WOW. not only is it one of the biggest he’s ever seen, but elijah’s cock is just as perfect and impeccably groomed as the rest of him. a true gentleman’s phallus), but when it comes to rose, it’s her tongue. or just her mouth region in general (totally not including her smile, that’d be cheesy) (pardon the pun). with enzo, it’s also his mouth. and damon will (however reluctantly) admit to that including his smile. because oh my god, look at that smile. he would do anything to make enzo smile at him. no homo (full homo).

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

damon can come untouched. pretty easily, too. and he hates that he can. he discovered this about himself with katherine back in 1864, when she used her strap (eight inches of polished stone attached to a leather harness) on him.

also on the topic of 1864, katherine (more than once) had damon eat her out right after she slept with stefan. bonus points if damon knew but willingly did so & enjoyed it anyway. i’m not saying she cucked him, but… she totally cucked him.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

see above. he’s hot under the collar for his brother, and it’s pretty much the only thing he will never seriously admit to.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

so there was that 50 year dry spell, but damon has since MORE than made up for his years of celibacy between 1864 & 1912. he’s slept with everyone. E V E R Y O N E. but he wasn’t always a lustful little manwhore - he lost his virginity to katherine & she and sage taught him almost everything he knows. so let’s say thankyou to katherine and sage for bringing out damon’s inner slut. he knows too much about every erogenous zone imaginable, and is more than willing to prove so.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

time to push my second favourite agenda (and a sub agenda of my favourite, pardon the pun): damon salvatore, the chronic bottom. that’s not to say he’s submissive by any means (though the fandom severely overlooks & underestimates his subby tendencies, which is a crime imo. he’s a natural sub, his pride is the only thing getting in the way of that) — he might prefer to take it in the ass, but as a wise man once said: “liking what (he) like(s) don’t make (him) a bitch.” so obviously, his favourite position is cowgirl / cowboy. he gets to keep control & be the one getting fucked.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

again, it really depends on the partner/s. like he definitely pushes the limits & makes a really bad joke at the worst possible time, or just rambles on until the other person shuts him up. one of my wips at the moment (eternal teenager verse) has a scene where damon and enzo reunite after a month or two, and it’s all squishy and silly —(“Missed you,” he says between kisses, fumbling with his lover’s jeans for an excruciatingly long minute before deciding to hell with it, and he rips them open, dropping to his knees with all the patience of a lit fuse. “And I certainly missed you,” he plants a kiss on the head of Enzo’s cock, eyes never leaving the organ as he strokes it to full mast. “Never leave me again,” Damon murmurs, then looks up at Enzo through dark, fluttering lashes, shooting him a cheeky grin. “That goes for you too, Mister.”)

part two is already in the works!!!

[bubuslutty]

HC: what would happen if another witch cursed John Price?

part of the ‘the bear in the witch’s hut’ au

pairing: John Price x witch! fem reader

word count: 793

a/n: i wanted to write this longer but i dont have enough brain power to whip something more coherent out. oh, and i wanted to traumatise john and write his witch go ballistic. enjoy <3

✩ Another witch curses John and he's now a bear and his wife has to take care of him.

✩ Price’s unit (gaz, soap and ghost) was going through a forest when Price freezes, seeing a shadowy figure staring right back at him, and it was another witch and he was mortified because she was hauntingly beautiful and he really wanted to run but he can’t scream, and she circles him like a predator, breathing in the air around him and hissing, “You’re taken. What a shame. You’d be beautiful if you were mine.” And she blows air on his face and he can’t see anything and then he changes into a bear, with his skin ripping and changing shape in real-time.

✩ When his men find his gear and ripped-apart clothes, Simon sees red and Soap starts calling his captain assuming the worst and gaz is the one who realises that there was no blood on the clothes, and they looked like they ripped apart due to sheer force, not a blade.

✩ And they keep looking for 2 days but can’t find him anywhere and they decide to rest and think of what to do, they haven’t found any blood trail, so he must be alive, somewhere (they hope)

✩ When Gaz falls asleep, he dreams of being with his brothers, hand-picking oranges and putting them in baskets and John’s witch comes to him in his dream.

✩ “I felt something. What happened?”

✩ “We lost him, and we have been looking for 2 days.”

✩ “Where are you?” And she pulls a map and Gaz points down at their location.

✩ She pulls up in 2 days on horseback and gives the men a list of plants and herbs to collect for her while she goes looking for price on her own.

✩ She takes off her cloak and all unnecessary layers of her clothes, including her boots so she can feel everything in the forest, every brush of wind, every whisper and rumble on the ground through her bare feet.

✩ She finds him hiding in the trunk of a huge tree, shielding him away from the light and he starts growling when he sees her.

✩ She eventually gets him to come out and he jumps on her, snarling and ready to bite her face but he doesn’t because he’s still human on the inside and he’s just terrified.

✩ And she sits down with his heavy head on her lap and runs her fingers through his brown fur, whispering spells until he curls in on himself and starts shaking and he turns back, screaming and sweating as his body changes.

✩ He’s shaken up and is naked, shaking and curling himself on her side, clutching to her body for dear life as she shushes him. And when he calms down a bit she manages to make him stand up, naked and all.

✩ And she reassures him it’s just her, and she takes off her dress, and is standing there as naked as the day she was born. And with their fingers interlinked, she leads him to the river to wash away any traces of magic on his skin.

✩ When they’re done, she picks up and wears her dress back on and makes her way back to the men who were sitting worried sick for their captain, they dress him up and wrap him in cloaks and blankets, starting a fire.

✩ And Simon sees her wearing her boots back on and throwing her cloak over her shoulder, “Where are you going?”

✩ As soon as Price hears this, he panics and grabs her arm, still not saying a word.

✩ And an unknown form drags the witch back to the forest at an inhuman speed, the men watching the scene, are terrified, and then a high-pitched scream was heard and complete silence.

✩ And after a while, they hear weird noises, muffled screams and branches snapping from across the river and shaking trees, and then they see another woman, crawling on her stomach, trying to get away and Price tenses, recognising the witch who cursed him.

✩ When Price’s witch reappears again, her hands, knees and lower half of her face are bloody and he panics, “It’s not mine.” She reassures him with a kind smile.

✩ “I’ll be back, my love. I promise.” She said and kisses him on the head, and after some coaxing, Price lets go and she thanks him, and promises them she’ll be back very quickly and left out to the forest. (they’re sitting near the river)

✩ Then she busies herself with making talismans for her man and the others to protect them from curses.

✩ That night she washes the blood away and sleeps curled up around John, and the next day they pack up and leave to go back to base.

tag list (pls ask to be added or removed): @obiwankenobis-lap @goapgrim @smalldemonlover @silviafantin15 @reveluving @bobastayhigh

[dyannawynnedayne]

Who Has The Most Gender?: FINAL

Brienne: Joan of Arc by John Everett Millais

Danny: The Little Foot Page by Eleanor Fortescue Brickdale

We have made it to the end of our bracket, everyone! As I couldn't find another art for Danny, I went with classic paintings for the both of them.

You have one week to battle for the character you believe has the deepest relationship with their gender. Who has the Most Gender.

Feel free to campaign as you wish, I love to see your comments, tags, etc!!!

[sporadic-myriadic-theatrics]

We know our prince of dark passions embodies hedonism, debauchery, and revelry, but Sanguine also happens to be the Prince of Not Giving a Fuck. While other daedric circles talk smack about his laziness and mingling with mortals, those dedicating their loyalty to Sanguine share his view on self expression being kind of cool, actually.

Dremora serving him tend to have a broader range of variation in physical appearance, with the only “uniform” being blood-red markings that include painted lips with a stripe going through the middle of the chin and down to the chest, a split and/or pierced tongue (a common modification amidst mortal followers as well), and of course the inclusion of a rose motif.

Sanguine seldom crafts his own dremora, and majority you see serving him are originally from other realms. Given his general ambivalent nature, he welcomes the more eccentric dremora that don’t quite fit the mold for one reason or another with open arms. Diversity and self-expression make the Myriads more prismatic! When he does craft his own, he’s a meticulous perfectionist and takes his time coming up with something he finds pleasing.

As for himself, Sanguine is a shapeshifter at heart. To him, beauty has no standards, and his appearance at any given moment is as fluid as what he’s attracted to. Drag might not exist and he may not have been birthed, but “we’re all born naked and the rest is drag” is a core part of him and his view on the mortal concept of gender. To me.

For mortals, he’s attracted to radiant souls and interesting stories. He’s a sucker for a good tragic background, loves a challenge and chase, and can sniff out a rose bud waiting to bloom. Of course, having a daedric prince as your gardener involves being used for their entertainment, but Sanguine’s amount of bullshit is equally proportional to the amount he’ll spoil you for loyalty, and his intimate understanding of how mortals work makes him a surprisingly good therapist.

I like taking an incubus/succubus approach to my Sanguine, so him and his mortal-appreciating dremora feed off of the emotional energy of mortals. Physiologically, I hc that daedra don’t produce oxytocin during climax like mortals do since, y’know, they can’t reproduce so having that chemical bond isn’t necessary. But when they get it on with mortals they connect to, they get a certain high off of it by proxy. Most daedra can’t resist the addiction of being worshiped and revered by a mortal once they get a taste. Catharsis is another mortal emotion that I hc is foreign to daedra, and that sort of emotional release is one of Sanguine’s favorite flavors.

[we-staybhaalin]

WIP (barely wednesday)

tagged by both @bhaalbaaby and @razrogue (TY!!! 😭 so sorry for dragging my feet on posting!!)

no obligation tagging anyone who wants to participate! tag me if you do!!

preface: I've been working on and off towards fully mapping out the night Halsin and Niralei slipped away from the camp to roll around, booty naked, in some grass.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“You’re up late,” she greets, holding out her hand. She’s got him trained on instinct now as he reaches out and tenderly supports her steady climb to her feet. Niralei gently pats his shoulder and steps around him towards the rest of her belongings. “Would the weight of a penny be worth the full breadth of your thoughts?”

He chuckles. “It’s nothing. I was…about to take a walk.”

Both of them are like day and night. She, born of the city, built in equal measure by the sometimes cruel decadence its wealthier denizens flaunt and the grime that covers the scraps its less fortunate citizens pick over for the sake of survival. Beauty amongst the chaos—and she adapts every step of the way, from the warmth of home into the brimstone and fire of a proper feud between warring interests—forged by flame and she simply dances through it all.

Halsin, born of the world, once a boy that found a friend in nature and then became the Friend of Nature. A guardian he became too young and a soft heart that took the weight of a whole world on his shoulders before he even took his first rites. A father, a teacher, a guide, and a decisive voice that always has a curious eye on the horizon.

Silence floods the space between them and the hunger eating at her rises up to her throat. Chest to chest, her head tilting back to lock pale red eyes with inviting hazel green, and an unbelievable warmth fills her from toe to tip.

(A quick flick to his lips and her tongue quickly swipes across hers.)

“Like we planned?” Halsin asks, voice barely above a whisper.

She smiles and nods, pressing a hand to his chest. “I’ll see you soon.” He playfully stumbles back when she shoves him and watches her face for as long as he can before turning on his heel.

A minute becomes five, becomes ten, becomes a fashionable fifteen.

At the five minute mark, her hair falls in beautiful dark curls over her shoulders. At the ten minute mark, her cheeks shimmer in the moonlight with the careful stroke of a brush and her lips gently pull apart still wet and impossibly red—

One foot slips into a shoe and then another. She only has a hand mirror to help her inspect her entire look from top to bottom. At the fifteen minute mark, Niralei concludes her examination with a wink to her reflection. A quick tug on the knife strapped on the inside of her dress and she makes her way down the path.

[thrashkink-coven]

I wanna talk about GENDER because I think it’s VERY INTERESTING in the context of spiritual ideas!!!

Why do gender queer people exist? Why isn’t everyone cis? Why isn’t everyone trans? Why are we such a wildly inconsistent species!?

God I love humanity!

Within Hermeticism there is this idea that we’re all God- essentially, because we are all conscious, we are all made of the same “light” that IS. We simply pop into existence one day when we gain consciousness. For us, there is nothing before and nothing after. We are consciousness being contained in a human nervous system for a period of time.

Consciousness is not male or female these are worldly things that pertain to material flesh. Without flesh there is not concept of male and female. But **interestingly** enough, we do still have gender. Gender is cultural, societal, and mental. All conceptual, and consciousness is purely conceptual.

Because we are an analogue species, we take in most of the information we perceive as reality. Objective reality is filtered through our nervous system to be perceivable. We project ourselves onto unconscious things like clothes and aesthetics because it is the only way we can make sense of ourselves. We cannot understand what we cannot perceive. We look for ourselves in everything- we adjust our bodies to match our consciousness. This is true for everyone, trans or otherwise. Trans people simply happen to be doing so in a way that is not acceptable to a *society*. In reality we are no different from everyone else doing the same thing, we just do so in a way that makes sense for the context of our individual experience.

So basically, if consciousness itself simply IS, without any quantifiable things to compare itself to, it just IS. Without contrast we cannot psychologically understand anything. Without darkness we have no concept of light.

Because we exist in a physical world in physical bodies, we are forced to recognize our purest selves in material things. We are set up (typically) with binary bodies, but we are not a binary consciousness, we are actually infinite in our consciousness and identity. We are infinitely complex consciousnesses contained within a comparatively simple machine. We become of the world to understand the world, and therefore ourselves.

You are not your body, you’re not your possessions or material, you are the thing hiding inside your body that controls the show- that thing that you are is pure consciousness, and consciousness is completely boundless- only to be molded by experience. We’re all born naked and the rest is drag. We are all God in drag.

Gender is one of the ways we understand that consciousness and how it interacts with other consciousnesses. Gender is a byproduct of human intellect. It’s actually extremely interesting that we have gender queer people, because it proves that our flesh is not the definition of our being. I think the fact that we have bodies makes that diversity extremely clear to see, but if we didn’t have bodies it would be impossible to know. Contrast creates understanding!

Humanity is so complex and weird!! It’s great!!

[wajjs]

Is there a spot still available?

How about kissing for a mission plus a good "oh, oh" moment?

A gasp.

He wakes up with a gasp and with his hands clenching around the cheap white sheets. His head hurts, dizzy in a way he’s never been, not after all those years training for and then actually flying planes.

Except he’s never flown a plane in his whole damn life.

He wakes, and right next to him, his partner wakes, too. They both groan almost in unison, and he lifts one of his hands to grab at his head. Maybe he’s hungover. Maybe he’s coming down with something…?

His partner sits up like he’s late for something too important. And then immediately his partner grabs his head as well, with both hands, almost curling in on himself as he does.

“Ugh,” his partner says, voice thick with sleep still lingering, “that was a mistake.”

He blinks up at the ceiling. The lights are out, but there are thin streams coming in through the cracks in the blinds, casting everything in a soft early morning glow. He can kind of see everything when he drags his eyes throughout the room: the ceiling fan, the dresser with the top drawer badly closed, a sleeve poking out, the body mirror propped against the wall, a picture frame on the dresser that’s like a beacon, making his mind and body freeze because.

His partner.

“Guy,” he croaks out, sitting up as well, and the sheets fall off his chest to reveal that he’s wearing nothing. Well. From the waist up, he’s wearing nothing. His stomach flips inside his body as if he’s about to hurl but somehow he knows there’s nothing inside to come out.

“I’m aight, babe,” Guy tells him, turning his head (still in his hands) just enough so that one eye peeks at him. Then, he quickly adds: “Ya look like shit.”

“Guy,” he insists, more urgently this time. He kicks off the sheets at the same time he moves to stand up. He’s dizzy, he’s still so dizzy, but it doesn’t make sense. None of this makes sense.

Two long strides take his feet all the way to the dresser where the picture frame that’s yelling at him rests. He picks it up just as Guy’s standing from the bed as well, naked as the day he was born.

“Hal,” Guy’s voice is firm, and warm, and doing things to Hal’s stomach that’s already in knots, “what’s wrong? What’s going on?”

“We,” Hal licks his lips and then swallows. In the dim light he can tell what the photo is about.

A wedding.

Well, not just about any wedding, rather their wedding. It just—it just doesn’t make sense. It doesn’t make sense at all.

Guy’s standing right behind him now, his big, strong arms wrapping around Hal’s waist like they belong there. And for a second, Hal almost believes it. He almost buys into it, into the idea of them being, being this item, this couple. His heart wants to accept it. Fuck, even his mind is yelling at him to let this unease go, to take it in, to see what comes of this. But his instincts are right there, just like Guy’s arms are. But Guy’s so warm. Guy’s so warm, and Hal is always so cold, he’s always…

He sets the frame back down on the dresser. Guy hums, and his hands, rough, big, spread over his lower stomach. Hal hates this. Hal hates that he’s going to be the one to break this spell they’re under.

“Guy,” his voice is barely above a whisper. It is a stark contrast to the way his heart is thundering, clamoring away inside his chest. “Guy, we—we never got married.”

[READ THE REST ON AO3]

[allylikethecat]

January OTP Prompts

Look at me continuing with day three 😂 (I am attempting to write 500 words every day for the month of January, each little drabble based on the corresponding prompt!)

3. “I love you, but that’s a terrible idea”

George blinked, taking in Matty’s shit eating grin with growing concern, “I love you, but that’s a terrible idea.” 

“No,” said Matty, shaking his head, “no it’s brilliant, it’s so good, it’s the best idea I’ve ever had, truly.”

“Hmm,” said George, intertwining their fingers together, twisting the ring on Matty’s finger playfully, the catalyst for it all. “Better than this?” he asked, holding Matty’s hand up in front of his face. 

“Well,” said Matty, fluttering his lashes, “that was your idea if we’re getting technical.” 

“Really?” George asked, “because I distinctly remember you asking ‘are you ever going to just fucking propose?’” 

“Yes,” said Matty, “but you’re the one that then stood up and came back with a ring that was stashed in the back of your sock drawer so clearly you had already been thinking about it.” 

“You’re ridiculous,” said George fondly, pressing a kiss to the top of Matty’s head. 

“Yeah well, you’re the one that proposed to me in the bath, it’s a miracle I said yes actually. So really if we’re being technical, you owe me this for such a shit proposal.” Matty teased, trailing off while George sputtered. 

Matty had been naked as the day he was born, sobbing as he slipped the ring onto his finger, worried he was going to drop it into the bath water, his skin slick with the scented bubble bath he had been enjoying along with a glass of wine. It was perfect, it was organic, it was them, but that didn’t mean Matty wasn’t going to give George shit for it the rest of their lives. 

“I bought you a ring didn’t I?” George said, letting his hands drift lower, tracing over Matty’s sides sweetly before grabbing a handful of his ass, causing him to let out of a squeak of surprise. 

“It’s a bad idea,” George said, leaning down to drag his lips along Matty’s as he spoke, distracting him. “My Mum would kill us, and your’s would dig us up so she could kill us again.” 

“You’re being dramatic,” said Matty, his eyes falling shut as George kissed his neck, nipping lightly at the sensitive skin causing Matty to swallow a whimper.

“I’m being realistic,” George said. 

“So am I,” said Matty, “I think it would be iconic.”

“It would be something,” George said fondly. He was giving Matty a hard time, but if this was actually something he wanted, actually something he felt strongly about, he would give it to him, terrible idea and the wrath of their mother’s be damned. 

“Iconic,” Matty whispered, slipping his hands under George’s tee shirt, urging him to take it off, and licking his lips when confronted with the smooth expanse of skin laid out like a buffet just for him. 

“I just think,” said George, gasping as Matty bit down on his nipple, “that we should probably tell our family and friends we’re inviting them to our wedding instead of just springing it on them one afternoon when they’re all here.” 

Day: 1 | 2

[tenderrevelations]

The Unwavering Allowing of Transition

“You are you and the work is the work” Both concepts exist in connection with one another.

A place like New York where inspiration could cross your path just by walking down the street. Yet we become conflicted by trying to adhere to the norms of this mindless working society. “Go to work. Get shit done. HUSTLE. HUSTLE. HUSTLE.”

Knowing your creative spirit is what moves you everyday, how frustrating it can be to not be able to pinpoint where it’s resting its head. How badly we want to lock ourselves in a sunlit room, paint, instruments and countless pages of paper and pens to let the imagination actually run.

We work the muscles of the mind. We stretch the muscles of the spirit. I find myself harmonizing in my head, wishing someone to join me with their imaginary trumpet or take it away with their guitar solo. Photo books are particularly grounding lately; visual representation of life embodying art in its truest form. Days where I’d capture my friends in their hardest moments, crying in their hands from a love lost, all on a disposable camera; those were the moments where I felt my art to be the most validating. Seeing true pain, true emotion on film and having that memory in my hands. The one truth that has been the hardest to grasp lately is the knowing that nothing stays stagnant. Everything changes and shifts even when you don’t want it too. I come back to old stomping grounds to find firm sensations of familiarity and land in a place that feels foreign to the naked eye. Places that were once so dear to me, stripped away of its original charm and grief overcomes me like the harsh power of a NYC fire hydrant. The stripping away of authentic NYC culture feels like a metaphor for understanding the ebb and flow of transition. Wether we like it or not, we are here and we are changing. One day we are here. Next day we are not. “The person who starts the work, won’t be the same person who comes back the next day to finish the work.” The purpose of all of this, is profound connection. We all desire to become closer to each other in one way or another. Be it collaboration or meaningful conversation, we want to know that we are not doing this alone. Sometimes we force connection in hopes that it sticks, yet the rule of inevitable change reminds us that force only brings more friction. So where does that lead us? Allowing. Some call it the path of least resistance, others call it radical acceptance. Either way you spin it, you let go, or be dragged. It almost feels like the answer to success is in some sort of literal equation.

Allowing + Risk taking x consistency = Ultimate Contentment.

Constantly having to break through old familiar patterns to embrace the unknown can feel exhausting. Perhaps photography is where we can find the middle ground. Being able to capturing what you know and cherish and still allowing it to change in the future knowing that it lives in your mind and on your camera. A heartwarming transition into a new beginning. I recall those moments where I’ve captured strangers. A small conversation that sometimes led to full blown friendships and other epiphanies that only could’ve happened by releasing the grasp of fear.

The power of a capturing lens. Acknowledging that your view is a valid one is the beginning stage of self

acceptance. The beginning stage of the birth of a confidence that cannot be taken away. Regardless of criticism, one stands firm in their point of view, especially when it’s a view born out of creativity. Yet there are those moments where the view starts changing. The shock of the unfamiliar begins to make us glitch in such an extreme way and we need time to readapt to the new norm. Radical acceptance comes out and stands in front of us, forcing us to acknowledge what is there. It’s only when we say “I see you” that Radical acceptance can step aside and let us through.

Why do we unconsciously force the hand of others for our own comfort? We cultivate these connections for mutual support and somehow find ourselves gripping onto ideas that do not apply. Our perceptions sometimes do not align with others, yet somehow we ignore our intuition and insist on clashing in hopes we win some sort of secret friendship game. The Ego is the only one that understands the rules. I’m here to learn from others while also expressing and validating my own work. I’m finally accepting that my perception of life isn’t for everyone and I have to learn how to be okay with not being everyones cup of tea. I know that it may feel a bit isolating at times and nobody ever wants to force a relationship, however I’m learning to listen with intention and remember that the melting pot that is community has its own purpose. To create, heal, destroy, learn, teach, love, bring joy to, shape etc. Everyone has a place in the pot.

The allowing. The art of letting go and letting God. That oceanic exhale that lifts that weight off your shoulder.