#when i do it. i actually need to carve out space for art my god i KNEW it would be what saves me but i couldn't foresee exactly how

[autistic-shaiapouf]

Alright well if I'm gonna try to be doing more with my art, I have to actually carve out time and space to meaningfully make it. Which means I have to actually start managing my energy at work. I have to actually leave myself with energy to engage in doing something I know I enjoy doing, what a novel concept

[icaruspendragon]

Please stop making spn posts just let it die please

here’s the thing- i will not be doing that.

you see, there’s so much shit in this world. the horrors. the terrors. all of it. they’re out there. and something that makes the horrors and the terrors and all the other shit a little easier for me to deal with is talking about a silly little fifteen year long collective fever dream. it’s one of the last vestiges of adolescence i have.

when i was being tossed about in the sea of my grief, it was spn that kept me from drowning. it was misha collins dubbing himself my nemesis and participating in the mishapocalypse 2.0 that gave me a distraction i needed so terribly in the early days of me trying to learn how to be an only child. he didn’t have to. he could have ignored the whole thing. but he didn’t. and that’s something so special to me i don’t think i’ll ever have the words to articulate the depths of my gratitude. because the first time i felt joy after my brother dying was at a supernatural convention. it was when i asked misha about the silly comment and he had a screenshot of it on his phone ready to show me to prove he had done it, that was the first time i realized that one day i wouldn’t feel so full of nothing i didn’t have room for anything else. it was the community i made there that showed up for me time and time and time again that made me realize i may be lonely, but i wasn’t alone. and that wasn’t the first time the community around that show had made me feel that. and I’m certain it won’t be the last.

the first time i ever encountered fandom in full force was in 2013. that’s a decade of my life. and it’s because i decided to watch supernatural. and it was in this fandom space that for the first time ever, i felt seen and heard and valued. for the first time in my life, i felt like i mattered. and my thoughts mattered. it wasn’t until i found fandom by way of spn that i realized i had value and worth. it was that show that gave me some of the best friends i could have ever asked for. it is because of the spn fandom that i have been given so many opportunities. that i have a way to make an actual difference.

and it has continued to do that for me. even ten years later. there are people who i didn’t know existed less than a year ago who i couldn’t imagine my life without now. people who have been to my home. people who have become my home. people i have flown across the country to see and people who have flown across the country to see me. people who are my family. and i met them because we share the same level of brain rot for a cw show that caused a great deal of damage to our psyches.

we get to curate our internet experience. we get to look at and talk about and post about what we want. and if someone posts something we don’t care for, we don’t have to look at it or engage with it or interact with it. we can scroll. we can block. we can ignore. we each get to carve out our own little space online. we get to build a little home. and my home is full of my love for a lot of things. for avatar: the last airbender and the hunger games and percy jackson and fandom and fanfic in general. my love for poetry and art and words. and yes, my love for a show that ended over two years ago that has haunted corners of the internet since 2005. i have a lot of love for a lot of things. so i talk about and post about the things that i love because i don’t ever want to look back and say, “my god, i should have loved more.” and i’m allowed to do that. because this is my space. i built it just for me.

this silly little show with it’s silly little characters is the one thing i have from Before that has remained unchanged. and even if that weren’t the case. even if i didn’t have all this sentimentality attached to it. even if it was never a lighthouse, a buoy for me. even if it was just something i casually enjoyed. i would still post about it. because it makes me happy. because i’m not hurting anyone by enjoying it. because it’s given me a little blip of light in a dark world. and you don’t have to consume it if you don’t want to. that’s the beauty of all of us living in different houses. we can visit who we want, when we want. and we don’t have to visit the houses we don’t to. how wonderful it is, that we are the gods of this small thing. we get to create and dismantle and create again. as many times as we want. because this is our space to do with what we want.

and i want to post about my love for all things, including hit cw show supernatural. and i can. so i will. because i’m the one living in this house. and no one is making you come visit.

[rxin3akamallory]

That Night

I keep pumping out art like it’s no tomorrow good god!

Ok so y’all need context for this one, this is based on a short story I wrote I wanna say a year or two ago focusing around the day Barley and Maria became a couple. Maria’s mother passed away when she was young, and today was the anniversary of her death. It’s unfortunate that that day happened to also be her mom’s birthday. The whole day Maria was going through different emotions, but was determined to keep them bottled to herself. At least until she got home. Barley unintentionally makes her crack and in the drawing, he arrives inside Maria’s home. He’s come to apologize for not being sensitive towards her feelings and not giving her enough space.

An excerpt from the short I wrote is provided below. It’s ehhh tbh but still probably one of my best written work within the last year or two.

Barley: Is it ok if I come in, or?

Maria: Oh! Right, I’m sorry.

Maria led him inside. Barley sat on her bed while Maria went back to work on her broomstick.

Barley: Hey, you’re making a new broomstick.

Maria: Yeah I finally got the motivation to work on a new one.

Barley: I remember what happened to the first one. You were so devastated. You acted almost Iike how you were today.

Maria: Yeah, I almost didn’t want to replace it. That broomstick meant so much to me.

Barley: I saw a name carved onto the broomstick. Elizabeth Morven. Are they a family member of your’s?

Maria: That’s uh.. my mother’s name.

Barley: Oh. Did she give it to you?

Maria: Mhm. She made that broomstick for me so I could have it when I’d set off for witch training.

Barley: That’s right. It’s what witches used to do when they were the age of 13. They’d set off on a year’s training to strengthen their magic. You were able to actually go into training?

Maria: Yes, I know other witches stopped doing that decades ago, but my family believed in keeping older traditions alive so they insisted I’d go train. My mom especially wanted to see me go. But.. she passed away before she could see that happen.

Barely: I’m so sorry, Maria.

Maria: I was trying to hold back my emotions because tonight’s the night she passed away.

Barley’s eyes widened. He knew she lost her mother when she was young, like how Barley lost his father, but he never knew how she passed away. She never really talks about it to anyone. He wanted to know what happened but at the same time, he didn’t want to press on in case he’d hurt her again.

Barley: Oh. You don’t have to talk about it, but I know what that feels like. You feel like you have to keep strong for the one you lost. You want them to be proud of the person you’ve become, you know? So you try to bottle in your emotions.

Maria: Mhm. You see this bracelet?

Maria held up her wrist so Barley could see the purple bracelet she was wearing.

Maria: The night my mother passed away, was also her birthday. My father gave mom a new bracelet as a present. As she took off her old bracelet, she handed it to me.

Maria held up her left wrist and showed the exact bracelet her mom gave her.

Maria: I wear it everyday ever since. So I can always keep her close…

Maria started to tear up, Barley instinctively gripping her hand.

Barley: I’m so sorry for your loss, Maria.

Maria: She made me feel safe and secure as a kid, and to lose her so suddenly terrified me. I lost that secure feeling. I worry everyday the same thing could happen to someone else, to my friends, to you, to grandma, to dad.. To me..

Barley hugged Maria as tight as he could.

Barley: Shh, Maria no. Don’t think like that.

He let her cry into his shoulder for a few moments until her sobs turned into small breaths.

Barley: What did you get her?

Maria: Hm?

Barley: Your mom’s birthday. Did you give her anything?

Maria: Hold on.

Maria lets go of Barley and opens a drawer on her desk. She takes out two large rings meant to be wrapped around the end of a broomstick.

Maria: I wanted to give her one to put on her broomstick and one to put on my future one when I got older. I might put mine on my new broomstick, but I don’t know where to put my mother’s.

Barley thought about it for a moment until he got an idea.

Barley: You got any string on you?

Maria: Yeah why?

Barley: You’ll see. Here, hand me the ring.

Maria hands the ring along with some rope. Barley carefully puts the string in the ring and ties the ends together, making it into a necklace. He motioned Maria to turn around and when she did he slipped the necklace around her neck.

Barley: There, now your mother’s right where she always was.

Barley points to her heart where the ring was.

Maria: It’s perfect. Thank you, Bar.

Barley: And you shouldn’t feel unsafe, Maria. You still got your father and grandma, your friends, and you got me. You shouldn’t worry about what’ll probably happen to us, you should be more focused on right now. And right now, from this day forward, I want to make sure you feel safe so I promise to protect you like your mother did. With your permission that is.

Maria smiled, new tears falling down her cheeks.

Maria: Of course. I can’t think of anyone better to fill that role.

[captainbobbin]

Oh don’t worry they did find me well-

Though because of your cat Isa art I was wondering what animal you’d view Saïx/Isa as more. Personally I see him as more of a rabbit considering 3ds days has

Whatever this claymore can be called-

That claymore is called Bunnymoon! Saïx gets that in Days if you equip him with the Mystery Gear, which is said to "draw forth its wielder's personality". I think it's really charming and actually very telling of Saïx's character tbh - that deep down he's a kid that grew up far too soon, that looked to the skies and romanticized space and travel (the rocket) and also is fond of soft and cute things deep down (the rabbit). While the alternate weapons level of canon-ness is dubious at best, I really love how much each weapon shows off aspects of the characters they equate to. The name of Saïx's weapons are very interesting, but Bunnymoon and Just Desserts are very much faves of mine haha

The rabbit motif also comes from the tale of The Rabbit In The Moon, which is an Asian folktale; in said tale, if I remember correctly, a rabbit offers all it can to help a beggar in need, and then offers to sacrifice itself by walking through fire. The beggar turns out to be a god of the sun, and carves the rabbit's likeness into the moon, and so the dark spots on the moon are meant to represent the rabbit's noble nature. Which. feels very fitting to me in a lot of ways haha. There's also Saïx's hair lowkey looking like floppy bunny ears lmao. I like the rabbit connection and I think its a super interesting angle but I tend to relate him to other animals!

Theres obviously the wolf/werewolf motifs and I am always a sucker for that. I'm a gay furry that likes big hairy beasts what can I say. Werewolves 100% do it for me and I really like writing Saïx as wolfish - a pack animal that struggles with such a lack of familiarity around him and so lashes out and forces itself to work so independently, much to its detriment.... I love that Saïx's journal text in KH2 talks of him having a 'savage nature' and, in my writing and lfotr especially, I often characterise Saïx's ability of Berserk as its own thing, a sentient part of him, a werewolf-esque part of his personality that he consciously can understand and interact with almost. Everyone in my chat will tell you tho that I very much have a catboy Isa agenda lmaoooo. Listen. Listen. it stems from the werewolf angle but hear me out. He deserves to purr when he's happy and comfortable. He deserves to knead biscuits on those he loves as he gets comfortable and fall asleep against them. He needs to show affection by gentle headbutting as he goes past. He needs attention, and will hunt for you and bring you gifts, and he should secretly enjoy being petted and that man is a cat hahaha

[sixpossumsinatrenchcoat]

Four More Years

(just wanted to post this lil suntan snippet of a new Omori timeskip fic/college AU i'm working on! it is silly and soft and not even a little bit tragic, bc my heart can only take so much. canon-compliant, post-good end, lookin at ~10k words)

Kel bursts onto the scene in typically noisy fashion. “Sunny! Suuunnnnyyyyy! Do you have headphones on again? C’mon, finish up, I’m starving!”

...He’s lucky he’s cute. If he wasn’t, Kel would be very unpopular with Sunny’s classmates. But even art school kids can’t bring themselves to hate Kel. It would be like hating a big friendly dog just because it stepped on your mixing palette and tracked paint all over the floor. The worst he gets is a few exasperated glances, and most of those bounce off his thick skull.

They buy Kel a couple of tacos to tide him over and then mosey over to Sunny’s apartment. Kel’s big idea of the week is to make a bento and deliver it to Hero at work. Apparently Hero’s been too busy with his residency to cook, and Kel thinks he’d appreciate a home-cooked meal.

“Cool,” Sunny says drily. “Where are you gonna find one?”

“Hey!! I can cook!!”

“Sandwiches.”

“Sandwiches are good!!!”

They’re still about a half mile from home when they get ambushed by the most beautiful armchair Sunny’s ever seen. It’s rich black velvet with a gilded frame and it has paws, thick wooden legs carved into clawed, sturdy cat’s paws. Sunny closes his eyes. “Ohhh…”

“You need it, huh?”

“Kel,” he says pitifully, pawing at Kel’s arm. “Kel, can you please tilt it on its back legs. I’ll never ask for anything again.”

“Easy!!”

The bones of the chair must be solid teak. Kel has to throw his weight into it just to get the front paws off the ground. But when Sunny crouches down to get a look, another little moan creaks out of him. Oh, god. They do. They really do have toe beans.

So of course they have to drag the chair the whole way home, because Sunny is 100% certain that if he takes his eyes off it, it will walk away without him. But again, this chair is ungodly heavy. Kel can barely shift it, so Sunny actually has to help, instead of just pretending. He’s not used to doing manual labor, so they stop and rest maybe every twenty feet.

The armchair is big. It’s designed for one person, but it’s definitely big enough for two, if the two people in question are very comfortable with each other. Which they are. They always have been.

But Kel won’t sit down.

“It’s all you, dude!” he insists. “Don’t stress it! I’m barely even tired!”

Sunny’s forehead furrows. “We can both sit, though?”

“Seems a little crowded, haha!”

“I could just sit on you.”

“Aw, you don’t want that. I just came from the Y. I’m all sweaty.”

“...You could sit on me?”

Kel looks genuinely moved. “Aw, Sunny. Buddy. My best friend in the whole wide world. I would crush you like a bug.”

“I’m not fragile,” Sunny mutters. “You’d have to do a lot more to break me.”

And Kel, for no reason that Sunny can think of, turns beet red.

Stuff like that keeps happening. Kel is acting totally normal, and then suddenly he turns weird. At the party last night, Kel moved to sling an arm around him—like he always has, for the past twenty years—and then visibly stopped himself on at least four separate occasions.

“He won’t even sleep over anymore,” Sunny sulks. “Last night he slept on the couch. But Basil’s bed is big enough for all of us. If he wanted more space, my bed was empty.”

“Ohhhh,” Aubrey says. “Okay, yeah. I got it. —Oh, sorry, was that it? Or did you wanna give me a little more context?”

He turns away from his work for just long enough to glare. “Explain.”

“Yeah, it pretty much sounds like he likes you, dude.”

Sunny frowns. “As a—”

“No, not as a fucking friend. Are you an alien? Obviously I meant he’s, you know. Attracted to you, or whatever. ‘As a man.’ Lmao.” She actually says lmao, pronounced like, luh-mao.

Sunny looks down at himself. “...Are you sure?”

“Hey, don’t sell yourself short, kid. You’ve got that whole dark academia thing going. You know, the piercings, and the… sweaters, and all pale and malnourished and shit.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

[castsblight]

#𝐂𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐒𝐁𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓. LORD YANRIC HAIMELHEIM ― dark fantasy antagonist. original character accompanied by original canon. themes of death, genocide and fantasy war lay ahead. crafted by dima.

CARRD. ✦ MUSIC ✦

𝐚 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐝𝐲 𝐢𝐧 a lich feigning humanity, reliquaries hidden in plain sight, carving the path for delusions of grandeur, decay permeating from your very core, and the insatiable desire to dig deeper into the earth.

𝐈. no homophobia, transphobia, racism, sexism, harassment etc. i do not reblog callouts unless the individual is genuinely harmful (i.e. behaviour related to those listed), rather than being called out for personal grievances. you are welcome to block the tag 'callout /' for this purpose.

no god-modding/power-play; as the antagonist, yanric is ridiculously op in his original canon. liches are undead, ascended magic users. i don't intend to write fight scenes but of course i won't do any injury without checking with you first!

𝐈𝐈. i do not interact with minors. if you are a minor, i ask that you do not interact with me or this blog. i cannot guarantee that this blog will remain sfw, therefore this is a blanket rule.

𝐈𝐈𝐈. yanric is a villain (albeit charming and charismatic) and i don't intend to shy away/soften him up. i do not write incest, nsfw involving minors or sexual violence - i'm okay with these topics being included in a character's backstory but will not be writing these explicitly. i do write nsfw headcanons/nsfw themes in my threads. this may include sexual content and explicit gore / violence, with my rp partner's consent.

𝐈𝐕. this blog will be low activity. i work full time in a demanding job, so please don't interact with me if you need fast replies to maintain a muse. i am quite responsive ooc, but when it comes to writing, you will just have to take my word for it that i am worth the wait ʚ₍ᐢ. .ᐢ₎ɞ

𝐕. shipping is very cool. yanric is bisexual and very evil. i ship with chemistry, and i prefer head-canoning more than threads due to my writing speed, but i am still interested! generally singleship but this is not a hard rule. i’m also poly friendly! no nsfw with minors (mun/muse), no incest or SA plots.

NOTE: yanric is undead. his human appearance is a glamour, he is literally a corpse. i won't stop you if you wanna f*ck him but CINDY THIS IS A SKELETON, THIS IS BONES. also has "unhealthy" behaviours (obsession, jealousy, extremely co-dependent with parental issues) so fluff is very unlikely.

𝐕𝐈. i'd appreciate it if you didn't use heavy metaphors / poetry in our threads. absolutely no hate or anything, i just find it very difficult to understand what the characters are actually doing in this writing style. i also ask that you don't use real life face claims in our threads; i write characters who do not have irl images so it feels very space jam.

on the topic of imagery, icons are a mix of my own art, seth (ennead), and medici (lord of mysteries). please see below for credits!

𝐕𝐈𝐈. i go by dima and vodka interchangeably, for those who would rather not use names related to alcohol. both are fine with me! i'm 27 and use they/them. i'm a hobbyist artist and i love fantasy, liches in particular. i will draw our muses whether u like it or not. my dms are open, and feel free to ask for my discord!

𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐃𝐈𝐓𝐒.

@poetryrph for icon border art: Vitta042 @ twitter art: reloon @ lofter art: sahoyou13478 @ lofter art: luoluoji776 @ lofter

[simpforanyanimeguywithdarkhair]

HAIKYUU MEN AS DIRTY TROPES

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

#Includes: Sakusa, Kita, ushijima

#Genre: smutttt

#Warning: professor - student, doctor - patient, DILF- babysitter, spanking, choking, uses of words like slut and whore, daddy kink , breeding, squirting, use of the word mommy, fem reader ! degradation, praise, oral sex (female), power imbalance etc.

#Note: All characters are 18+. It’s hella long I got carried away. I do not condone any of these relationships in real life…. Except getting with a single dilf :) Also it’s got the storyline of a bad porno so enjoy !

Also ITS BACK BITCHES !

Minors for the love of all that’s holy please DO NOT interact , thank you :)

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

SAKUSA KIYOOMI - PROFESSOR

As you sat across from someone who can only be described as a work of art , someone who looked like he was hand carved by God himself , you couldn’t help but squeeze your thighs together. You knew why Mr Sakusa had brought you in here today. After teasing him throughout the week with skimpy skirts that barely covered your panty clad ass and coy looks throughout the lecture , he found himself at his breaking point. A man can only take so much and he ensures to punish the slut out of you.

He sat with his elbows propped up on the desk and fingers laced which he sat his chin upon. The tight shirt of his suit clung to his tense muscles perfectly and did nothing to ease the wetness beginning to gather in your underwear.

“You know miss L/N you should really be careful with who you disobey, not everyone will be as lenient as me”

“Does that mean you’re going to punish me sir?” You asked through your lashes.

“I’m sure you’d like that you little slut. Is that what you want? You want your professor to punish you? Do you want me to bend you over my desk and spank you till you can’t even fucking sit down?”

You’re sure your lip is probably bleeding with how hard you’re biting down on it but you can’t help it. You definitely thought your antics would lead you to the deans office rather than where you actually wanted to be but I guess it payed off. You shyly nodded your head and adverted your eyes.

He lowly chuckled. “You were acting all brave earlier when you were spreading your legs and now you can’t even look at me. Tsk tsk , I guess I really do have to teach you a lesson”

“Stand up” he demanded. Slowly but surely you stood on your feet and awaited further instructions. “Good girl, you keep this up and I’ll be sure to reward you” , the praise went straight to your core and you squeezed your thighs tighter than before , an action that didn’t slip past Sakusa. A slow but confident smirk made it’s way across his face. Sakusa can’t lie, he is a man after all and when a sweet thing like you is practically begging for attention he believes it’s his job to give it to you, that’s what makes him such a great teacher, always so attentive. His late nights and working overtime had made him needy and in need of a tight cunt to let his frustrations out on so he’d be stupid not to take this opportunity.

He beckoned you over with a finger and led you to where you were standing in front of his spread legs. With the lack of space between you and Sakusa you found your back digging into the desk behind you. He placed his large , calloused hands on your hip and comfortingly stroked up and down. “So fucking pretty” he said lowly.

“Turn around for me baby, we still need to punish you and then I’ll think about rewarding you”

With slow movements he guided you so your back was facing him and pushed on it so your stomach was laying against the desk with your ass in the air. He slid his hand up your thighs narrowly missing where you wanted him and placed them on the globes of your ass. With lazy movements his spent his time fondling your ass and placing delicate kisses upon each cheek.

“Mmh, please Sakusa..”

“Tsk tsk , that’s not my name sweetheart”

A few seconds went by until … “Sir…”

“That’s right baby” He could feel his pants tighten more than they already were as you breathily begging him to touch you.

“Please sir , I ne- need you to touch me”

“I’m already touching you , where does my needy slut want me to touch her?”

With reddened cheeks you guided the hand that was on your ass to your wet pussy. “Here sir” . With slow strokes his played with your cunt outside of your panties. He let out a groan as he felt his fingertips immediately dampen with your arousal, you were dripping. “Fuck baby, you’re so wet and I’ve not even started yet” . As good as it felt , he was teasing you and you wanted more, you wanted to feel his fingers without the layer of cloth , you wanted to feel the rough pads of his fingertips play with you clit , you wanted more.

“Ugh fuck ! More , please please, I need more professor” you whined.

Without a second thought Sakusa landed a rough spank on the flesh of your ass and watched with amusement at the gasp you let out. The one slap was enough to redden your skin and leave the faint imprint of his hand. With soothing motions he rubbed the flesh to offer some relief.

“You know how I feel about impatient brats so behave, i won’t tell you again. I want to take my time with you and that was one of many. I want you to count how many I give you and once I’m satisfied I’ll think about whether or not you deserve my dick”

Another resounded smack echo's throughout the room when there’s no response and he awaits your answer.

“Ye-yes sir , yes” you nod urgently. As much as the slaps stung you would be lying if you said that you weren’t getting wetter. The mix between pain and pleasure was sending you spiralling and the thought of Mr Sakusa finally treating you like this was almost enough to set off your first orgasm. However, Sakusa was impatiently tapping his fingers on your warm ass as he awaited yet another response.

“That was two sir”

“Good girl, you’re starting to get the hang of it”

After a few more spanks , Sakusa finds himself satisfied and can no longer ignore the ache in his pants and your now basically see through underwear.

“Pull your skirt up for me baby, yeah just like that, I want to have a clear view of this pussy”

With almost urgent movements he grips the sides of your panties and pulls them down your legs and slips them into his pocket for later (Sakusas a panty sniffer for sure). He grips the fat of your ass and spreads your cheeks while bringing his face closer. The cool air in contrast to his warm breath has you clenching around nothing and trying to back yourself into his face but the firm grip he has on you ensures you can’t go anywhere.

With slow deliberate movements he gives short kitten licks to your clit and noses your leaking hole. “Oh fuckkkk, you’re so much sweeter than expected baby , If I knew you tasted this good I would have punished you long ago”

“mm-mmh just like that Sir, ooh fuck ! Please please mmh yes” you didn’t even know what you were begging for you just didn’t want him to stop. The teasing already had you so near to cumming and this was the final push. With a few more strokes of his flat tongue on your throbbing clit and fingers probing your tight hole , you found the tight rope in your stomach snapping. You urgently bounced your ass on his face and gripped the desk as he revelled in the plushness on you thighs and being surrounding by you.

“God I’m so close , please sir , I’ll be your good girl, I’ll be so good , just don’t stop, mmh”

The final spank he delivered to your ass was enough to send you over the edge and as you withered and panted above him he continued to lap up everything you had to offer and didn’t stop till you gripped his curls and pushed his head away.

With a smirk on his face, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and slowly turned you around so you were facing him. “I hope you don’t think we’re done pretty girl, I still need to ruin you” he said as he pushed you down onto your knees and ruin you he did.

KITA SHINSUKE - DOCTOR

You nervously sat across from Dr.Kita as he examined your patient case file. You had been putting off coming to the doctors for a while now, hoping the pain in your upper thigh would disappear with time but unfortunately that wasn't the case and the pain became more persistent. However, looking at the doctor in front of you, you couldn't tell if you were glad you came or not because Kita seemed to give off an intimidating yet professional aura and that was the reason your leg was trembling.... no other reason.

Kita looks up from his computer and offers a small but albeit comforting smile. “Ms L/N i'm going to need you to change into the gown on the bed so i can do a more thorough examination to find the cause of your pain. i’ll step outside and once you're done just lie down on the bed for me”.

Once you were changed and sat on the bed, Kita entered the room and moved to get everything situated such as putting his latex gloves on and guiding you to lie down on the bed. “Do you have any ideas of what the pain could be Dr?” seeing that you were nervous he placed a comforting hand on your knee and smoothed circles into your skin. “I’m positive its nothing serious, so there's no need to be nervous but i’d like to do this examination to rule out any possible causes”. His reassuring words worked as you felt yourself relax into his touch maybe a bit too much as you could feel the arousal leak out of you. You prayed Kita couldn’t notice the small action of you rubbing your thighs together. You have no idea where this sudden neediness had come from, whether it was the smooth touch of his hand, his soft but caring voice or the fact you haven't been touched in so long, whatever it was you hoped the examination would go by quickly.

“I’m going to need you to plant your feet here and spread your legs a little, perfect, just like that... you’re doing so well” his praise was not helping as you felt another gush of fluid leak out of your needy pussy.

“So what i’m going to do is feel around in that area and see if i can feel anything out of the ordinary such as a lump, is that okay with you?” He patiently waited for your consent and you gulped while giving a small meek nod. “I need you to use your words love” “ye- yes, that's um okay with me” he gave you a small smile and encouraging nod.

By now you hoped your wetness wasn't anywhere near your thighs as you'd probably die if Kita felt it, he'd probably report you and call you a freak because who gets horny at a doctors appointment ?!.

He slowly inched his hand under your gown and continued his journey to your upper thigh. Once he was there he put a bit of pressure on that area and started rubbing circles into your thigh, noticing you wince a little, he stops his actions and asks you if that’s where the pain is, once confirming it is he tells you he needs to continue to feel for any abnormalities. “This may be a little painful but i'm going to need to continue just in case there's something there that i'm missing so just bare with me love” the pain slowly morphs into pleasure as he continues his soothing motion and easing the pain. You release a breathy sigh and squeeze your eyes shut in order not to embarrass yourself further. “Does that feel good?” “mmh, yeah, it doesn't hurt that much anymore Dr” “that's great to hear but i’m going to have to move a little higher just incase the pains migrated”

His hand creeps up and is now dangerously close to your soaking core. As he massages your thigh you feel a few fingers brush your slit and you know he can feel the wetness coating your thigh. This goes on for a few more minutes, him cautiously brushing your slit and gauging your reaction and when he only sees the blissful expression on your face his actions become bolder. The feeling of his damp latex covered fingers and the way you’re biting your lip has his dick throbbing and the front of his pants tightening.  

“Where else does it hurt sweetheart?” he whispers. “higher” he moves his palm so it lays flat against your core. “Here?” you nod your head while looking up at him through lust filled eyes. “Do you want me to make it all better?” “Mmh, yes please doctor” “I need to take these off to get a closer look, can you do that for me love?” without a word you slip your wet underwear off and throw them onto the white tile floor while bringing your gown up over your stomach. “Look at you, what a perfect little patient, spread your legs for me, just like that baby, well done” You can’t help the moan that comes out of you as his latex fingers spread your pussy lips. “God you’re so wet for me, and i think i see the problem but i’m going to need to take an even closer look” He brings his face close to your core and starts sucking on your engorged clit. “Ohhh fuck, right there, right there” “Is that where it hurts?” he mumbles into your pussy. “Mmh yes , i need you to make me feel better ” “Don’t worry sweetheart, once i’m done with you, you’ll be too numb to feel anything”. He continues his assault on your clit, alternating between sucking and flicking it with the tip of his tongue. He slowly probs your leaking hole and inserts a finger while curling it upwards. You throw your head back as curses fly out your mouth. “Shit shit shit, right there, mmh add another finger please!” Listening to your request he adds a second finger, both curling upwards and hitting that sweet spot deep inside you. The pace of his fingers speed up till they’re pistoning in and out of you at a brutal pace. “Fuck ! Dr slow down, i can’t control it” You grip his grey locks but he doesn’t budge. “I’m going to cum everywhere, mmh, Kita please” “That’s the whole point sweetheart, i want you to squirt all over my face, i’m going to make sure i don’t waste a drop” He doesn’t relent, instead he adds a third finger and the burning stretch is the final push you needed. “That’s right, come all over my face love”. Your juices squirt out of you and go all over the bed you’re lying on and kita’s face, wettening his white coat. You go limp in exhaustion while Kita makes sure to clean your pussy with his tongue, ending his torture with a few kisses placed on your pussy and thighs.

“I’d recommend you come in tomorrow for another check up as there's a few more things i’d like to check out”.

USHIJIMA WAKATOSHI - DILF

You had been working for Ushijima for a few months now, babysitting his kid when he’s too busy with volleyball and training that drags on. His child’s mother left soon after she gave birth as motherhood just wasn’t for her, leaving Ushijima to care for his son all by himself. However, you weren’t complaining as not only is his child an angel, he also pays very well, which as a university student you appreciate, not to mention you definitely don't mind the eye candy. The years had been kind to Ushijima as he only seemed to get bigger, strong arms that flex when he picks up his son and the faint salt and pepper hair that only makes him sexier. You had spent many nights with your hands in your underwear, fantasising about him and how he would feel, how his fingers would stretch you out in ways yours can’t and what the heaviness of his cock would feel like as it lays against your cunt. You swore that one day it wouldn't be a fantasy but a reality and that day came sooner than you imagined.

It was late in the evening when he came home, his son already tucked into bed and you were preparing to leave. “Have you had dinner yet?” his deep voice went straight to your core as you replied “No not yet, i was just going to go home and re heat some leftovers”

“There’s no need to do that, i bought take out, come and join me and then i’ll get you a ride home”

“oh no, i don't want to impose, you've already had a long day”

“you won’t be imposing, you'll be doing me a favour, i can’t remember the last time i had dinner with someone let alone a pretty girl” he smirked. You chuckled as you agreed, trying not to seem too eager. “Wine?” he asked. “Sure, why not” you definitely needed some liquid courage to ease your nerves so you don't become a fumbling mess. He led you over to the sofa to where everything was set up. “Want to put something on while we eat?” “Eh yeah, i don't mind”.

The food was long finished but Ushijima had convinced you to stay till the movie finished as he didnt want to finish it on his own. He had his arm thrown over the sofa and the light of the tv in the dark room just accentuated his perfect bone structure and olive eyes. Because you were admiring him you missed the scene that was playing on screen and the moans from the tv grabbed your attention. Your cheeks reddened as you saw the intimate scene of a young women and man making love and could feel your once dry pussy moisten up. “This okay with you? I can forward it if you’re uncomfortable” “N-no I’m fine” you gulped. Never in a million years did you think you’d be watching a soft porno with the man you want to absolutely destroy you. You cross your legs in attempts to stop the throbbing in your core and Ushijima picks up on this. He places his hand on your thigh and asks “you okay? You seem a bit tense” “ahah no I’m fine , really” you awkwardly chuckle. “Okay if you say so” his hand remains on your thigh with his thumb stoking the inside of it. Slowly but surely his hand inches higher and higher and you uncross your legs and spread them to give his hand room.

He looks over at you and brings his face closer to yours. You so desperately want to close the small gap but let him take control. “Such a good girl for me” he whispers as he closes the gap and presses his lips to yours. The kiss starts of slow but gets more passionate and agressive the longer it goes on. He parts your lips and slips his tongue into your mouth where you softly suck on it. He lets out a low growl as he grips your throat. “Dirty fucking whore” the sound of him degrading you just adds to the wetness pooling in your panties. “Mmh just for you daddy” “Fuck, want to show daddy how good you can be?” you nod your head while looking at him through your lashes. He pulls you onto his lap and you can immediately feel his hardness. You can’t control yourself as you start grinding on his cock, the feeling of it catching your clit is addictive and soon enough his crotch has a wet spot. “Look at you humping my crotch like a bitch in heat. You better not cum because I want you creaming around my cock not on my pants” you let out a whine and he grips your waist and pushes upwards. “Mmh please, want to feel your cock so bad daddy , want it inside me” “I know baby I know” he coos. “Stand up for me , let’s get these clothes off”

You quickly rise to your feet and obey. Once you’ve both stripped he guides you back down onto his lap where you can feel his hard throbbing member rub against your bare pussy lips. “Look at how much you’re wetting my dick, does my baby want my cock that bad?” “Yes daddy, want it so bad , I’m your good girl, I’ve been so good , please give it to me” you mewled. You’re already so fucked out and nothings happened, you just want to feel him so bad. He chuckles lowly as you continue to hump his dick while gripping his shoulders. He decides to finally ease your suffering and raises your hips and teases your hole with the tip of his dick. “Stop teasing daddy , just put it in” you whine. “Be patient , I need to be careful, don’t want to ruin this tight hole” he carefully inches his dick inside you in order not to split you in half. Your mouth hangs open as he finally bottoms out. He throws his head back as a low groan leaves his throat. You place your hands on his chest and slowly start to bounce. “Oh fuck baby, you’ve been waiting for this haven’t you? Been dreaming about daddy’s dick for a while now” “yes yes yes” you chant as you continue to bounce. He grips your hips as he thrusts upwarde fast and hard. “Oh fuck daddy” “shhh be quite slut, don’t want to wake the little one” you nod your head in understanding as you try to stifle your sounds and when that doesn’t work he inches his fingers in your mouth. You immediately start to suck on them , covering them in your saliva as he speeds up his pace and hammers into you. He brings his head towards your neck and starts to suck on your throat in order to mask his own sounds. The only thing that can be heard is the tv in the background with a mixture of his balls slapping your wet pussy and breathy gasps.

He picks you up and lies you down on your back as he picks up his pace and delivers harder thrusts. “Mmh you’re so deep inside me daddy , I’m so close” you whisper. “I know baby , so am I, where do you want me to come?” “inside daddy please , i want you to fill me up with your cum , wanna feel full” this urges him closer to his own orgasm. “ fuck you nasty whore, you want me to fill you up? Want me to make you a mommy” “oh fuck oh fuck , yesss , Mmh make me a mommy daddy” this pushes both of you over the edge as the tight feeling in your stomach snaps and you proceed to squeeze and milk his cock dry. He shoots his cum deep inside of you and doesn’t stop pumping you till he’s sure you’re full. He pulls out with a soft groan and lays his forehead on yours. “You done so well baby, so well” “just wanted to make you feel good daddy” “fuck, you made me feel so good but my cums already dripping out of you and you know we can’t have that” you nod your head in understanding and his picks you up and carries you to his room. He definitely ensures to keep his promise on making you a mommy.

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

REBLOGS AND COMMENTS ARE APPRECIATED

Note: This is a repost as it was once taken down. I re read it and it was too good not to be seen again so enjoy 😚

;)

🔖: @ashisbored @crystal-lilac @tendo-sxtori

© property of simpforanyanimeguywithdarkhair

[dailyadventureprompts]

I would love to see you do a monsters reimagined with the Gith (whether Githyanki or Githzerai)! They both have such interesting ideas but I've never been fully satisfied with the execution

Monsters Reimagined: The Gith

So while most of my monsters reimagined series covers something that I feel could be improved about some classic critter or foe, as one of the totally original creations of the d&d lore there’s not all that much that’s actually “wrong” with the Gith.

That said, like most creatures that AREN’T stolen outright the githlore is a bit shallow, having been solidified somewhere between the late 80s to early 90s and only added to in scraps here and there.  When I face such a dearth if inspiration, I tend to default to a few tried and true methods:

Try combining the creature’s concept with another one, which can take some trial and error but can come up with some real winners. ( though this combination might not be literal, and may just be about seeing what happens when these two creatures come in contact)

Understand how the creature fits into the larger context of its environment, how adventurers might relate to it, and how it might come into conflict with other creatures living in the environment.

Comb through other pieces of media for similar concepts that can be retrofitted into your own lore. This is more of a background activity as you read/explore, but if you vibe with something, you should put it in.

So let me take you through my version of the Gith with the same process.

To combat the generally flat lore of both groups, I decided to recombine them together, having one people known as the Gith who live in the astral plane, with cities built into the coral of dead gods and isolated monasteries scattered throughout the sea of dreams. A diaspora that’s taken thousands of years to find themselves a new home, the Gith are as devoted to recovering their old culture as they are carving out a new space for themselves in this alien cosmos they were brought to.

When thinking about how the Gith interact with their environment and how to use them in my campaigns,  I decided to cast them as one of the primary cultures populating the astral plane, much like humans are considered the “default” kith to occupy the material plane. This change of norms helps sell that the party has entered a truly alien world while at the same time giving the Gith a strong identity when compared to other fantasy cultures.

It took quite a while to settle on a general vibe or “genre” for my version of the Gith, but I eventually remembered my love of  Wuxia as both a genre and stylistic conceit. The idea of warriors arcing gracefully through the air practicing lightning fast martial arts as an extension of their mental and spiritual discipline was already an immediate fit for the Gith, and all their monasteries of hidden knowledge needed to reach aesthetic perfection was a psychedelic cosmos as backdrop. This in turn led me to the idea a scattered society where enclaves of control often ossified into either enlightenment or tyranny, constantly interacting with a chaotic frontier that was either united by astral slipships or driven into disorder by monsters and pirates. My Gith are still divided, but not by some arbitrary ideological binary: instead by the challenges of living in an evershifting realm of endless possibility. 

[navybrat817]

Transparent

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader, Steve Rogers x Female Reader, Bucky Barnes x Female Reader x Steve Rogers Summary: It’s hard to believe you’re Bucky and Steve’s best girl now, but you are.  Word Count: Over 2.4k Warnings: Explicit sexual content, oral sex (female receiving), feels, possessive behavior, tattooed Bucky Barnes and Steve Rogers (they’re warnings, okay?) A/N: Welcome to the next part of my tattoo AU! This is direct follow up to Invisible Ink Part 3 and takes place before the events of the not-yet-posted Visible Mark. Beta read by the amazing @eurynome827​, but any and all mistakes are my own. Thank you, lovely! Banner created by yours truly, but Bucky and Steve photos were provided by the talented @nix-akimbo! This AU wouldn’t exist without them. And divider by the beautiful @firefly-graphics​​!

I do not consent to have my work posted on any third party site or app. If anyone sees my work anywhere but here or archiveofourown under my same username, it has been reposted without my permission. 18+ Please!!! By reading this, you agree that you are at least 18 years old. Enjoy, lovelies!

You normally woke up to the sound of your alarm going off. It was part of your routine, as was setting it to “snooze” for a few extra minutes. You even found yourself reaching for your phone on instinct before you opened your eyes. Blinking the sleep away, you remembered that you weren’t in your room. You were naked and still…

You groaned as you looked to each side of you. The bed was empty. It was… a bit disappointing. And it felt cold. Maybe you didn’t actually sleep with Bucky and Steve. It could have been a dream. The hottest, sexiest dream of having both of their cocks in your mouth and dripping hole.

You threw the covers back, sitting up before immediately laying back down when you moved too fast. “Nope, nope, nope,” you mumbled to yourself, covering your eyes with your hand. The sore, delicious feeling between your thighs reminded you that it wasn't a dream. You were thoroughly fucked throughout most of the night.

“Knew you could keep up with us, baby doll. Such a greedy, pretty pussy you have. We’ll make you feel so good.”

“Fuck, you look beautiful when you come on our cocks. Do it again.”

You looked between your legs with narrowed eyes when you moved your hand away from your face. “This is your fault. You really are greedy,” you whispered, pushing yourself up again before carefully getting out of bed. “Shit, I need to stretch more,” you thought as you picked up one of their t-shirts from the floor and slipped it on.

You tiptoed from the room, shocked that you could even walk, when you heard the boys quietly talking from the kitchen. You could smell something delicious, too. God, they could cook, too? Was there anything they couldn't do?

Stopping in the doorway, you held your breath. The sight of both of them in their underwear made you feel hot, but you firmly pressed your legs together to smother it. Still, you took a moment to admire their physiques as they casually moved around the space. Even Mandy stated she knew how to appreciate the art that was Bucky and Steve. She hit the nail on the head. They looked like they were carved from marble. 

One of Steve's arms, made for both pinning you down and holding you close, rippled as he reached for something in the cupboard. With his blonde hair, blue eyes and welcoming smile, he would have been the definition of all American boy if not for the ink and piercings. Bucky, on the other hand, looked like the boy your mom warned you about. His soft brown hair, jawline for days and devious smirk made you throw caution to the wind. The scars on his left shoulder almost looked like another tattoo, showing that he was a survivor. They were both so different, but they each called to you. 

"Don't burn the eggs," Bucky said as he poured what looked like freshly squeezed juice.

"I won't," Steve swore as he took the pan from the stove. "Don't hog them. Make sure there's enough for her."

"I'm making her plate first, punk."

"I hope she likes it."

"I'm sure you'll make it up to her if she doesn't."

"Shit, what if she does hate it?"

"I bought her favorite pastries just in case," Bucky smiled. "But I don't think it'll come to that."

"I just want it to be perfect," Steve said under his breath.

You tried not to stare, but you felt like they'd disappear if you blinked. Steve was getting flustered over the thought of you not liking his cooking. Bucky bought your favorite pastries. How did you manage to get their attention? How? Did they really view you as the goddess that Mandy claimed you were? 

"A large breakfast with a side of orgasms is perfect."

You snorted before you could stop yourself, both of their heads turning toward the sound. They looked shocked to see you standing there. Maybe you shouldn't have intruded.

"You're awake, baby doll. And you managed to sneak up on us," Bucky said, impressed as he looked you over. "As happy as I am to see you in my shirt, because it looks good on you, why aren't you still in bed?"

"Well, I woke up all alone," you teased, leaning against the doorframe and crossing your arms.

"We wanted to surprise you with breakfast," Steve said apologetically, looking at his friend. "I told you one of us should have stayed."

"You then said we needed to make a hearty breakfast to keep up our strength," Bucky winked, crossing the room to where you were standing. 

Morning breath be damned, he pulled you from the doorway and framed your face as he molded your mouths together. Instead of the instant rush you felt the night before, the build was soft and slow as his tongue parted your lips. Your hands moved to his hips, feeling as if you would melt on the spot as you kissed him back. It was a feeling you could get more than used to each morning. 

The shock of that thought had you slowly pulling away. Each morning? Things were just getting started, even though you rushed headfirst into bed with them. You didn’t want to scare one, or both, of them off.

“Well, I’m sure I won’t be disappointed,” you smiled, leaning over so you could look past Bucky. “It smells amazing and I’m sure it tastes just as delicious.”

The smile Steve gave you was like looking into the sun. It was almost blinding, but you refused to look away. “I doubt it’s as delicious as you.”

He strolled over, tugging you away from Bucky to give you a kiss of his own. His hand held your chin, gently coaxing your tongue into his mouth. You felt like melting again as he took his time with you. How were you going to survive these two?

Steve tapped your nose as he moved back. "But we should eat before it gets cold."

You shrieked, and you would deny later that you made that sound, as he lifted you into his arms. "Are you going to carry me everywhere?" You questioned, wrapping yourself around him.

"Well, you were able to walk to the kitchen. We clearly didn't do something right," he answered as Bucky grabbed the food. 

"I second that."

Your core clenched as you were carried back to bed. "You two did everything right. Trust me," you promised, running your fingers through Steve's hair. You couldn't have imagined a better night. 

"Keep doing that and we won't make it through breakfast."

You were tempted to grind your hips down. Or lick the tattoo on his neck. One day, you'd ask what each of them meant for the two of them. You wanted to know everything. "You two worked very hard on it and I don't want it to go to waste."

"We appreciate that because you do need to eat," Bucky said as you were set in the middle of the bed.

"And then a shower," Steve added as the tray was set over you. 

Your gaze fell to the food, trying to blink away the tears that filled your eyes. What was it about them taking care of you that made you feel so emotional? "Why are you two so…"

"What, sweetheart?" Steve asked as he sat beside you. 

"So good," you replied, sniffling. 

Bucky sat on the other side, tilting your chin up. He looked stricken. "Did we upset you, doll?" he asked, his thumb swiping away a tear that fell.

"No, you didn't. I'm just…" you took a breath as his thumb brushed your cheek again. 

"You can't remember the last time someone put your needs first?" Bucky guessed.

"I honestly can't. But that's fine. I'm used to it," you told them, missing the look they exchanged. And you felt exposed saying it, something deeper than the physical level of intimacy you shared. "I'm sorry. I'm ruining the morning."

"Hey," Steve whispered, kissing your shoulder. Your eyes slipped shut, as if the feeling would fade. "You're not ruining a thing. And it's not fine. We meant what we said, you know. You're our girl."

"Which means we want to know how you're feeling. And if we said a long time ago that we wanted you, we would have taken care of you much sooner."

Being emotionally vulnerable opened the door for possible hurt down the road, but you trusted them. And you hoped they trusted you. "So, I'm really your girl?"

"Did last night not prove that?" Steve asked, slightly amused.

"Maybe I want to hear it again," you whispered. Somehow, you knew it would calm your nerves. 

Bucky brought his mouth close, his breath tickling your ear. "You're our girl."

"And you two are going to take me out on dates?" You smiled, opening your eyes. 

"We are," Steve promised, placing another kiss against your shoulder. 

"And… you'll keep making me breakfast in bed?" You teased, finally taking a bite of the eggs. You ate it slowly, raising an eyebrow at Steve. He shifted anxiously as he waited for you to say something else. "It's delicious."

"Good," he breathed out as you took another bite. "I used to be a terrible cook."

"Terrible? Worse than that. You almost set the kitchen on fire," Bucky retorted. 

"Bucky," Steve groaned, his cheeks getting red when you stared at him. 

"Eat up, baby doll. You'll love this story."

Once they made sure you ate every bite of your breakfast, as well as making sure you laughed so hard you almost spit it out, they carried you to the shower. It only took a moment for them to pull the shirt from your body before they joined you. There was hardly any spare room with the three of you in there, but you weren't complaining. Not with their hard bodies against yours. 

With Steve against your back and Bucky against your front, flashes of the night before filled your mind. Heat coursed through your veins and it had nothing to do with the warm water washing over your skin. You lost all focus when you suddenly felt their hands on you. If you dipped your hand between your legs, you knew you’d be ridiculously wet. 

"We'll take care of you," Bucky promised as he kissed down your body, his lips soft against your skin. He took a moment to lavish your breasts, giving special attention to each nipple. You were shocked steam didn't rise from your body as he teased them. "So beautiful," he whispered as he sank to his knees, grasping one of your calves and putting it over his shoulder. 

The sound you let out was wanton when he brought his mouth to your sensitive warmth. The touch of his tongue was light and gentle as Steve held you still. You wanted to buck and squirm, but they had a firm grasp on you. All you could do was feel.

“Fuck, your pussy tastes like heaven. Should’ve woken you up like this. Been hiding this sweetness from us. Never again.”

“No more hiding,” Steve whispered, a hand sliding to your breast as you moaned. You wished his fingers would leave imprints as he fondled you. “Our fingers. Our tongues. Our cocks. They belong there.”

“Yes,” you moaned, your head falling back against him. Your chest rose and fell quickly as you gasped, your body once again out of your control.

“I swear your cunt just got sweeter from that. I think she likes that she belongs to us,” Bucky murmured as his thumb brushed your clit, the swollen bundle of nerves throbbing as he worshipped it. 

“Fuck!” you cried when his tongue stabbed deep, his thumb still circling and building that fire.

“Say his name,” Steve whispered. “He wants to hear it… wants to know he's making you feel good."

"Bucky,” you whined.

Bucky smirked as he pulled away, a whimper escaping. Looking down at him, you saw shine on his lips as he nipped your thigh. And, fuck, his hard length looked like it was begging to be touched. "You belong to us, don't you?"

You shivered at the possessiveness. "Yes, fuck. I belong to you."

“Say it again,” he demanded, giving your folds another long lick before he dipped his tongue back into your wet hole.

“Say it,” Steve whispered, switching to your other breast. 

You couldn’t grip the wall, but you could tug on Bucky’s hair. The growl that vibrated against your wetness told you he liked it, so you did it again. “I belong to you. Fuck, yes. I’m yours.”

“That's our girl."

You thought you were going to spiral when you felt fingers press inside you, the metal hand gripping your trembling thigh so he could have his fill. He ate you out like he had to prove that you were theirs, his fingers and tongue bringing you higher as your wetness coated them. You were begging and pleading for release, reaching back to pull Steve’s hair when he pinched your nipple.

“Come on his tongue, sweetheart,” he groaned, pressing his hardness against your ass. You couldn’t even push back against him. “Show him you’re ours.”

The pleasure took you to dizzying heights as you let go, your unashamed cries echoing off the walls. Steve’s mouth was at your ear, whispering praises as you felt powerless to the tide that swept you up. Bucky didn’t slow, even as your mind felt thick and foggy through your orgasm. He didn’t stop until you whimpered, pressing the gentlest of kisses to your clit before he put your shaky leg down. 

“That’s our girl,” he whispered as he rose to his feet, smiling as you finished coming down from your high.

“Our girl,” Steve whispered, too. 

The euphoric feeling hit you again hearing that. You would never get tired of it. “Wanna take care of you both,” you mumbled. You wanted to please them, too.

“You already are,” Bucky whispered, letting you taste yourself as he kissed you.

Bracketed between the two of them, you felt as comfortable as you had the night before. That natural rhythm fell back into place, making you feel like you belonged there. They invited you to be part of their unbreakable bond. You were looking forward to the future. You were happy.

Even as Steve's phone rang again in the other room. 

[teaboot]

God, the sheer number of men who respond to the slightest possibility of having their authority threatened by immediately getting into my personal space and ~looming~ pisses me the FUCK off.

Simple fucking requests. "Sir, I'm sorry, you can't smoke in front of the clinic, would you be able to move just a few feet over there?"

Next thing I know this fucker, a full head taller than me and an extra half my weight is chest-to-chest in my breathing room, unblinking, mouth tight, dead eyed, smiling empty. "No actually, I think I'll finish it here. That okay with you?"

God, do I hate it.

Like, what, a tiny lady young enough to be your kid has the balls to request you go slightly out of your way for a second, and you feel outraged? Feel like you need to muscle down and prove you don't listen to anyone? Fuck you.

Like, shit, you think I need a ~reminder~ that you could kick my ass if you wanted to? You think I'm not aware of that every second of my goddamned day?

Just about every adult man I meet could plough me into the ground. You think that makes you special? Think that makes you tough?

I spent the first fifteen years of my life with a bastard like you. Spent a decade and a half with a grip on the back of my neck and tight, gritted teeth asking if I could "meet them outside for a second".

Do you think this is new to me? Do you think nobody's ever tried that before? That I grew up in some vapid, oblivious bubble where my every wish was granted until I met *you*, and hero that you are, you're going to be the one to finally give me a reality check about naggy little women who can't mind their on business?

You think you're the first one to ever "Put me in my place"?

God, you're pathetic.

See, some of us don't have the option of being big and scary and automatically feared and respected.

SOME OF US have to be patient, and considerate, and polite, and hold our ground and hope to Christ that we can trust the bigger, stronger, more powerful people to be reasonable, be considerate, be merciful.

You shitless son of a whore. You think you can scare me? You don't know what fear even is. You've never been small and helpless a day in your life, have you?

You wouldn't be able to handle it, being like me. Being weak, being second-best, being ignored and ogled and treated like a fucking decoration, until I say or do something that isn't cute or funny, and then I'm no better than a child having a tantrum.

I would carve out your eyes to have you understand the shit I've been through. I would dangle you off a ledge and have you beg, knowing worse than the fall would be surviving, knowing how it feels to be at the mercy of someone who has none. I would have you live the rest of your life feeling that piece of you that goes missing.

I hate men like that. I loathe them. Big and loud and brainless animals, all puffed up like roosters in a henhouse.

The entitlement.

The arrogance.

Big, strong, manly-man. What exactly do you bring to the table? Can you cook? Clean? Mend clothes, fix furniture, build a house? Do you make beautiful art or music? Do you bring joy and wonder to the world? When you die, will those who survive you mourn the loss, celebrate the life that made theirs brighter?

Or are you just some oily, swollen fuck, here to turn food to shit and drink to piss, stick your dick in something and die, like an animal?

Get out of my fucking face.

[the-blind-assassin-12]

The Cold Offends Me

PART OF THE VIPER & THE WILD THING COLLECTION  

A/N: Until like three days ago I had no plans to ever write for Oberyn Martell. But we all know what happens to plans whether you make them or not so here we are. (also, at least 45% of the blame for this is on @something-tofightfor who relentlessly bombarded me with Oberyn gifs one night until I had no choice but to start daydreaming.) Anyway! This will not be a chapter series that follows a plot as much as it will be a collection of related one-shots. I have two more that are brewing on the back burner, but for the most part, this “series” is entirely open to requests and prompts, so if there is anything you’d like to see from this pairing, please feel free to visit my inbox! 

Warning: sex, mention of non-consensual sex, language. THIS IS A SMUT if you are a youngin’ please click away. 

Word Count: 3.6k

Summary: Though you work in one of the nicer brothels in King’s Landing- it could be worse!- your life is not at all what you would have chosen for yourself. What happens when a request for warmth turns into an offer for much more? 

Seven fucking hells. 

From your place amongst the pillows, you watched the taught, sinewy muscles of his back and shoulders move as he leaned over to set his goblet down. A slight sheen of sweat clung to his body, the light from at least a dozen candles making him look even more like a statue carved from bronze or gold than a man made of blood and bone than he already did, and you couldn’t help the satisfied smile that crept over your lips knowing you had been the one to slick his skin that way. Glancing down at your chest though you saw that he had done the same to you, your soft flesh damp and shimmering in the flickering light. You pulled your bottom lip between your teeth to suppress a laugh from slipping out. It has been a while since the last time anyone’s… 

The sound of the silver cup making contact with the wooden table beside the bed cut your thoughts short as he turned back towards you. You had just enough time to see the darkness in his eyes ignite before his hands were clutching the sides of your face, fingers pushing through your hair as he pulled you into a kiss. He didn’t hold back a throaty sigh as he let you sample the sweet wine still coating his tongue. That’s not all that I taste. You grinned around the thought, a wave of warmth rolling through your belly as he flicked his tongue inside your mouth as though reminding you how that same motion felt when he had done it earlier, between your legs. A small moan made it passed your lips and beyond his as he dropped his lower half down over your hips. 

Gods, why can’t they all be like this? 

You had slept with highborn men before, but once they shed their fancy robes and embroidered silks they looked and felt the same as the common swine you regularly serviced, the only real difference being the smell. And not always. Some things even rosewater couldn’t help. This one though, he smelled of spice and citrus and something else you couldn’t quite place. Something enticing. Everything about him was enticing. 

It almost felt wrong, wanting him to touch you, to use up his body and yours until there was nothing left of either of you. In all the years you’d lived and worked there you couldn’t recall ever feeling anything but forced, false enthusiasm, your cheeks aching from all the strung up smiles. You couldn’t recall a single encounter in which you had chosen to stay mentally present for the duration. Yet since the Red Viper had arrived in King’s Landing a few days prior, you had made it your goal to commit every second spent with him coiled around you to memory, even if it meant sharing him with others. Words flew more swiftly than sparrows in the city, so you had already heard that the Prince and his entourage would be staying for roughly a month, a few weeks on either side of that rat Joffery’s wedding. You knew that if he continued to frequent the establishment as he had been, you’d have plenty of chances to work on that commitment. 

But if you were being honest with yourself, which you rarely were since lying made things more bearable in your line of work, you knew that it could never be enough. He’d fucked you three times already that night, and each time had been different, the man never repeating the same touch, changing his speed and pressure, using his teeth and tongue in bold ways that made you feel as though he was experimenting, using your body as a medium for his art. While you were more than willing to be both muse and material for him, you were less willing to think about what would happen when he left the wretched city. For as much opulence as there seemed to be an abundance of, King’s Landing, seven hells, all of Westeros didn’t have a single artisan who could compare to Oberyn Martell in this and likely many other regards. 

If he was going to be the first and only man who made you feel alive, like your desires mattered, like your body was in fact your own, then you wanted to make the most of it. Taking the waistband of his trousers in your hands, the material bunched tightly, you pulled him even closer, simultaneously grinding your hips up, fitting them against his like precisely placed pieces of a puzzle. 

“You don’t need to be shy with me,” he had told you and the others that he and Ellaria had chosen on their first visit. “We are all here for the same thing. So if you want something,” he had his right arm wrapped around the slender torso of his paramour, palming one of her supple breasts as he spoke. She nuzzled into his side but kept her eyes on you, watching as he reached to take you by the chin with his left hand, pulling you close enough to kiss but stopping with barely enough space between his lips and yours for air to pass between you. You gasped, chest heaving as he smiled salaciously down at you. “Take it.” 

That’s what you were doing now, taking what you wanted. 

He finally broke the kiss, but only to nudge your jaw with his nose, one hand moving your hair out of his way so that he could continue teasing you with the things his tongue could do. You slid your palms over his back, fingers finding the raised ridge of a long since healed scar midway down the right side of his spine. He had a few of them, but they were all old and faded, hard to find with your eyes, easy to feel as you touched him though. A jagged line like a bolt of lightning topped his right shoulder, a stippled round patch marked the outside of his left thigh, and there was a pair of red dots near his left wrist that looked like it had been left behind by a snakebite. All proof of how vividly he lived his life, unafraid of pain or danger, accepting and seeking out every challenge he could find, never compromising until he had squeezed every ounce of juice from each experience he had. 

You would let him squeeze you down to the pulp, gladly giving yourself to someone who actually appreciated the act. Someone who seemed to savor you and not just where inside your body you’d allow him. For Oberyn, there were no limits on your body. 

“Had I known there were precious treasures like you hidden up here in the North,” he purred into the crook of your neck as one hand followed its own agenda, roaming your rib cage, the other still stroking softly through your hair. “I would have made the trip much sooner, if only just to have you once.” Fuck. You didn’t doubt him, and that made it even more agonizing to hear. “You are not at all like any Northerner I’ve known.” 

You bit your bottom lip and let out a small breathy laugh. “True Northerners would be offended to hear you say that, you know. To them, we’re all Southerners.” 

Oberyn blew a puff of air through his lips. “And the cold offends me. I do not care if I offend the lords of ice and snow.” His attention was drawn to the circles he was tracing over your sternum with one bejeweled finger. “They are all so stiff. So frigid.” He flattened his palm over the area he’d just been focused on, deep brown eyes lifting to seek out yours. “Not like you.” 

“I am a whore, my prince,” you reminded him of your place playfully, combing your fingers through the crown of silvery strands that struck through the dark locks near his hairline. “I am paid to be warm.” 

“Is that so?” That menacing glint was back in his grin and you understood why he was associated with the viper, the predator striking with lightning speed and deadly venom just as he was now. One hand traveled down your body to tease the crease where your thigh met your hip, and you gasped involuntarily at the contact. “Then why are you so warm when I have not yet handed over a single gold coin?” He dragged his fingers down between your legs. His eyes narrowed, lips dropping open as he slipped one digit into you, seemingly enjoying the breathless sounds you made. 

Gods, he’s going to kill me. 

He didn’t wait for your answer, perhaps knowing already that you didn’t have one. Instead he touched his forehead to yours, his hair damp against your scalp. “Stay with me tonight.” It wasn’t an order or a demand, simply a confident request, one he had surely never been denied. “Keep me warm.” Adding a second finger, he swirled them in a slow circle and watched you writhe under his touch. “I miss the heat of the sun in Dorne.” Curling his pointer and middle fingers slowly, he went on. “I miss the beauty of the water gardens at Sunspear. But you,” he pulled his fingers from your body then, your hips lurching up to follow his hand. “You have the sun in you.” 

You felt completely helpless as you let out a whine at the sight of him licking clean the fingers he’d just had inside of you, the flutter of his eyelashes as he tasted you the only indication that he was even remotely close to cracking the same way that you were. “The sun?” You hummed as his touch returned, his other hand skimming across your skin. I hardly see the sun unless it’s through a shuttered window. “If you feel the sun when you’re with me my Prince, I can assure you it’s your doing.” 

You knew it was the truth and he didn’t argue with you. 

“Whatever the reason,” he assured you, “l have not been so warm since arriving in this pit of a city, and tonight I don’t want to be cold. Stay with me.”

Your heart slammed inside your chest as he made the request again, your throat tightening with how badly you wanted to say yes. Swallowing, you took a breath and steeled yourself to try to steer him away from the idea. A whole night of this… of him it’s too much. It will be too hard to... Shaking your head, you wet your lips and stretched them into a smile. “I’m sure you’re already sorely missed by someone else, my Prince. Someone who could keep you just as warm I’m sure.” 

You hadn’t been with Ellaria in any meaningful sense of the word- yes, you both had been present on their first day in King’s Landing, but she was preoccupied with some of the other girls while you and one of the young men spent time with Oberyn. But you didn’t need to have been with the woman to know what she was capable of, her ravenous appetite flashing in her eyes with the same intensity that you’d seen in the Prince’s. I’m sure she is-

“We are not each other’s property, Ellaria and I.” He crushed your thoughts, touch roaming your torso, grasping at your flesh to punctuate his words with physical meaning. “We don’t put limitations on what we allow ourselves to do when it comes to pleasure.” You fought to suppress a whimper as you felt his tongue and then his teeth nip at the juncture of your throat and shoulder. All of a sudden you felt him flip you around so your back was to him, his deft hands finding your waist and spinning you with ease. “We deny each other nothing when it comes to our desires.” Sliding both hands up to your chest, he gave a deliberate squeeze and rolled his hips into yours from behind you, pulling you backwards to eliminate any empty space that remained. “Do you understand what I am telling you?” 

“Yes,” the word came out in a breathy sigh, and you weren’t sure if you were answering him or reacting to the way that he was making you feel. 

“No.” He said it firmly but his tone had a hint of excitement. “No, I don’t think that you do.” He let one hand travel down your body to the apex of your thighs, his rings cool against your stomach, the smooth links of the chains and pendants he wore pressing into your back as you gasped. “But I’m going to make you understand.” 

—  —  —  —  

Some time later, after you’d acquiesced to his plea to join him through the entire night, the two of you lay draped over one another, spent but still soaking up as much contact as you could. He hadn’t taken his hands off of you for longer than it took to pour from the decanter of wine or reach for the washcloth in the basin next to the bed. He’d hardly taken his eyes off of you either, scanning every last bit of you. You were surprised when he started talking, asking you personal questions that had nothing to do with your body or his or what he wanted to do with and to and for you. 

“Where are you from then, if not the North?” His eyebrows came together in genuine curiosity as he asked the question. He didn’t look away from your collarbone as he waited for your response, watching his own thumb run along the ridge of it as though he were trying to memorize the place where it dipped into your throat. 

You hummed, unable to remember the last time you actually enjoyed being with one of your clients. But he’s not at all like them. No man you ever had the misfortune of having to fuck had ever asked you what your name was or where you were from or what you wanted from them. They were soldiers and sailors, gutter rats who knew you were one of them without having to ask. “I’m from right here,” you responded, combing your fingers through his hair before catching his earlobe and tugging to urge his mouth down to yours. 

He kissed you- gods, he kissed you like he intended to take you apart all over again using only his tongue- then pulled back and let his exploratory touch begin charting the valley of your chest. “Right here?” He asked, and you closed your eyes as you felt his warm breath hitting the skin he’d just been tracing. “King’s Landing, you mean?” 

Warmth pierced your abdomen as he dropped his lips to your body and you sucked in a breath. “Yes,” you answered, sounding every bit as desperate and dizzy as he was making you feel. You clenched a fistful of his hair, and the small rumble of a groan vibrated against your ribs before he dragged his lips towards one breast without lifting them away, licking at the goosebumps he was raising along his path. But that’s not really what I meant. “King’s Landing, yes, but-” 

He picked his head up then, resting his chin in the center of your chest, his meticulously groomed beard softer than you thought it would be as it brushed your flesh. “But?” He dropped his lips teasingly to your body, eyes still on you as he dared you to continue your sentence. 

He did ask. Since it was the first time anyone had, you figured you owed him a complete answer. “But I meant here,” you let your eyes roll around the room, at the windows draped in colorful fabrics, the tables laden with wine and exotic fruits, the walls, made to look like the building was a palace instead of the prison it had become. “Here, this brothel.” 

You tried to slip your other hand into his hair to join the first as you let your gaze fall back to him, but he caught your wrist and stopped you, reaching up to circle his long fingers around your other wrist as well. “What?” He moved back up the bed then to settle beside you, still holding your wrists. 

The sweep and press of his thumb over your pulse made you suck in a breath, and as you looked over at him, you saw a look of confusion and concern in his eyes. This isn’t what you pay for, Oberyn. Why are you doing this? You shook your head and tried for one of your practiced smiles. “This is my home. It’s where I…grew up. I was born here. My mother was a…” 

“A whore?” He supplied the word but didn’t fill it with the disdain and judgement that most did when they spat your title at you as a reminder of your place in the world. You knew that he didn’t put such meaning into words like whore or bastard. One was a profession, the other a term for a child born of passion, and in his eyes, in the eyes of the Dornish people, those things were not filth to be hidden or ashamed of. With the surname Waters, you fell into both categories. He let go of your far wrist, letting that hand drop to your bare stomach, but his thumb continued to run up and down over the veins of the one he still held. 

You nodded. “Yes. As soon as I was old enough, I worked in the kitchens, scrubbing dishes, cleaning bedding.” You watched his chest rise and fall as you spoke but felt his sharp eyes on your face. “When my mother became too… old to do her job, it became my responsibility to earn our keep. Now that it's just me I…” You shrugged. He asked, you reminded yourself again. “Well, I have no other… no skills or-” 

“You didn’t choose this?” He lifted the hand he had on your stomach to push a piece of hair behind your ear, fingertips grazing the outer helix and drifting down to the tender skin just beneath it. “You… wouldn’t choose this?” 

Despite the honesty in his question, the tingling sensation that his touch sent through your bones and the way he was looking at you, you had to laugh. “No,” you shook your head. “Some girls,” gesturing with one hand you twirled it and arched an eyebrow, “some boys? Some of them choose this. But I… was born into it.” 

You didn’t know what you expected to see on his face when you looked back up at him, but it certainly hadn’t been anger. Oh, I shouldn’t have- “That is unacceptable.” What? Before you could ask him to elaborate or try to de-escalate the conversation, turn it back towards pleasure like you’d been taught to, he had your face between his hands, your eyes locked with his. “Pleasure should not come at the cost of anyone’s freedom. You shouldn’t have to-” His nostrils flared slightly then and he took a breath through his nose, eyes falling closed briefly before opening again. “Come back to Dorne with Ellaria and I. Let me take you from here.” 

The thought of it was too good to entertain, too tempting to take seriously, and it made it too hard to breathe. You were property of Lord Petyr Baelish, it wasn’t that simple. Blinking away the shock of his request, you again tried to lighten things with a smile. “So I can be your pet down in Sunspear?” 

“No.” He leaned in and kissed you then, his top lip curling against yours before you felt his grip move to the back of your head and the side of your neck. “I would never put you in a cage like a pet,” he murmured into your mouth. “You are a wild thing. And if you came back with me,” he rubbed the tip of his nose along yours. “You could run as wild as you wanted. Completely untethered.” 

“No one is completely free in Westeros.” You couldn’t help the slight sadness from entering your tone as you told him the truth about your home. 

“They are in Dorne,” he promised.

“And if I came to Dorne,” you mused, playing with the still open drawstring of his trousers, “would I be confined to the water gardens? What would you require of me?” 

“Nothing.” He answered with a shake of his head. “Wild spirits cannot be tamed. When they are, they turn sad, resentful. They grow bitter. They die.” Staring into your eyes, you felt the earnest truth in his words. “I would only hope that with your freedom you would choose to return to me.” 

If there was a free soul in existence who wouldn’t return to him, they were out of their minds. 

“I would return to you as often as you’d have me.” Your breathless response came quicker than you would have liked, but what he was offering you was so tempting even your cautious attempts at reigning in your enthusiasm weren’t enough and you cursed yourself for it. “But what about…” you let out a breath and waved a hand around the room. “What about Lord Baelish? What about-“ 

“I told you already,” he brought a finger up and laid it on top of your still swollen, wine stained lips. “I take what I want. And what I want is to see you as free as you were meant to be.” He leaned in to press his lips to yours, his finger still stuck between. “So you leave that to me, Wild one. Now,” he brought his hand down to wrap around your wrist, pulling you into the bend in his arm. “Show me how you stay warm up here in the North.” 

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THANK YOU FOR READING! If you would like to be added to or removed from the tag list please feel free  to let me know. And like I said up top: if you have any requests or ideas that you would like to see for these two, send an ask and I will see what I can do! 

tags: @something-tofightfor @gollyderek @pheedraws​ @valkblue​ @alraedesigns​ @beefcakebarnes​

[itstheimpossibledream]

It’s Only A Play -Part 3

Word Count:3244

Pairing : AU Henry Cavill x FemBlack!Reader

Summary: We love a good slow burn. SMUT

The bag crackled in his large hands. You found yourself wondering why he even bothered delicately tearing the wrapping, when he could easily smash both the wrapper and cookie open in one fist. The fortune seemed so small in his hands.He held the paper back a bit further than you would have expected and you realized he was probably one of those people who needed glasses but refused to get them.He cleared his throat again."It says 'The art of living is taking the biggest chance.'"

"In bed." you said quickly

"What?!" his eyebrows flew up in shock but,he laughed to keep from appearing to hopeful.

"It's an American thing. You read a fortune cookie and at the end you add in bed. It makes every fortune cookie funnier, I promise."you said not breaking eye contact. He threw his head back and laughed even harder. It was a childish trick but, something about it tickled him so much he hardly noticed when his hat fell off of his head and onto Kal who had been peacefully sleeping in the slice of floor behind Henry's chair. His baritone chuckles echo through the apartment and you’re amazed that neighbors didn't even cross his mind as a concern in this place.Realistically he probably wasn’t even home enough to get a noise complaint. His laughing had lessened and you could feel him watching you. You knew people who had embarrassingly nice apartments but, nothing like this. This was just lavishly ridiculous.

"It gets lonely being here alone." He said evenly,reading your mind. "Family doesn't visit much and keeping friends with a schedule like mine is just..."

"Not easy ." you finished for him.You could feel his eyes boring into you carving out a space in your heart for him and you try to will yourself to stop. You both sat comfortable on the silence for a while, momentarily mutually mourning the lifestyle you lost to live your dream.

"Okay read yours!" Henry gestured to you cookie. You smashed it to bits,gingerly pulling out the paper fortune. You sat up tall clearing your throat trying to figure out if this fortune would be equally funny or if your childish trick had run it's course.

"You Are very talented in many ways in bed." You say bursting out laughing as he doubled over again.

"Come on! How come I couldn't have gotten that one" he jokes shrugging his shoulders.

" Just wasn't your fortune."you tease winking at him and getting up from the table.Okay so you were flirting with him,definitely flirting with him. But a highschool showmance was so unlike you. You knew the golden rule was to never go for your co-stars and yet here you were winking and shit. Maybe he'd ignore it , he really knew nothing about you outside of your work.

"So what made you like this story? When you got the script when did know you had to do it ?" He had moved from the table, his eyes shown brightly as he recovered his hat from the floor on his way. At the end of dinner you assumed it would be normal to grab your jacket and go back to your room.It's not like he had really planned for you to be over, and you weren't even friends so staying up this late with him to gossip wasn’t exactly in the cards. You had already learned so much more about him than you had expected to. He expertly moved to the kitchen,uncorked a bottle of wine he had chilling in the refrigerator and returned to the couch handing one of the glasses to you. So, now you were staying, I mean it’d be rude to turn down wine.

"Uhhhhh- well I think the relationship is relatable, it's real. It's not about these two perfect people but, it's about this perfect love they have... ya know?" You whirl yourself onto the seat on the couch next to him."To imagine what they were going through as a couple I mean- it must have made everything harder, these characters are from completely different worlds and they still choose each other in their own way. " He nods next to you , this was new. Geeking out with him about work wasn't what you expected but, you were actually enjoying it.

"So let me ask you something?"he pushes leaning in , He wrings his hands together and you’re distracted by the veiny passageways that mark down from his forearms."When do you think it would actually be necessary for them to have a sex scene?"he asks timidly.

"Right!" you exclaim! "I love Stephen but the way he directs it makes it feel so clunky !"you emphasize with your hands and he chuckles saying "Okay I'm so glad you noticed it too- like who has sex like this robots?"

"You know his partners have to be weird." you laugh , noticing how pointy his canines are. God, he looks like one of those twilight vampires, his stupid skin probably did shine in actual sunlight Not that New York would get any though,you acknowledge while making a mental note , not to drink to much of the wine that was clearly causing you to get distracted. You finish your glass and set it on the coffee table.

"Yeah I don't know i just think it's an unconventional love story and we need more of those." you smile , sheepishly meeting his eyes , going back to the topic of the show. His lower lip juts up as he nods,in agreement.

"Soooooo what's next?"you pop up, moving to his kitchen opening random cabinets, trying to find his liquor stash. You come across the empty bottle, of what must have been the wine you just drank and turn to him in the living room with a fake pout. It wasn’t that you were bored, or even that you didn’t want to spend time with him sober ;as much as it was that you desperately needed to cling to the idea that he wasn’t a good man for you.

"O. you can smoke out on the terrace if you want, and I don't have any more drinks here but,I can call down to the frontdesk to run and get you something.” Your eyes rolled so hard they almost fell out of your head.

"Of Course you have a front desk."you chortled to yourself.

"Hey, this is the flat the show is paying to keep me in not my own." he pointed at you in mock sternness

"No I'm okay. I don't smoke and drink all the time " you chided at him,he probably didn't really think that. He was just trying to drum up some conversation.

"and here I thought you were a real New Yorker." he jokes breaking into a toothy grin.

" I'm from a very small town-" you divulged with a sigh"definitely not New York.”

"Yeah- there's not many people from where I grew up around here either." he said plainly , moving to take off his rehearsal sneakers, for what was probably the first time since you had gotten to his place.

"You miss it a lot huh?" you ask

"I mean I go back often but, it's just much nicer to not have camera's up your ass all the time."he huffs, moving to the second set of laces.

"Ahh that good old Hollywood fame." you joke, with a sigh. He just smiles at you, beaming embarrassingly knowing he can never seem to say the right thing around you. For some reason busting his balls was somehow so much better than admitting to a feeling that you were becoming increasingly aware of,you wanted him.

"I'm not like a smoker smoker" you say, slicing through the silence "I picked it up from my ex and it just kinda stuck." you admit with a flippant gesture of your hand." But, only when I'm nervous or something."you felt the need to clarify.

"And why would you be nervous?"He smirked, pushing his shoes under the decoratively simplistic coffee table across from him and sliding down the front of the couch to sit on the floor. His thighs seemed abnormally large as he spread his legs out and started stretching. This time it was your turn to look away from him.You peeled your eyes,just as quick as he had before your shower. The confidence that radiated from him was absolutely maddening. You couldn't understand how any man could be so aware of their looks and yet still come off as slightly shy.

"I'm always nervous the first days of rehearsal.The new schedule, the new people, it's all just overwhelming at times." you divulged honestly. He pulled a knee into his chest heaving a sigh as you continued. "I wish I never started smoking though." you circled back.

"Do you wish you never met him too?"Henry asked, inquisitively peering up from under his hat as he switched knees. You exhaled slowly,fighting for the right way to answer that question.

"Sometimes yes" you nodded. "When I first moved to New York it was really tough, I felt really lonely too." you allowed your voice to trail into a whisper. There is a silence and then you can feel his eyes on you, your cheeks burning red-hot and the more you avoid looking at him the stronger the urge is.

"So that's why you're single." it was brutal but, you weren't upset.Long ago you had come to a similar realization about yourself. Plus, european’s had a way of sounding rude while simply stating facts, it’s part of what makes them so trendy.

"You've allowed life to make you become tough and jaded so you just don't date?Is that it?" he perked an eyebrow in your direction while removing his baseball cap.While you took no offense to his comment, that didn't stop you from hating it.

"Why do you care?" you asked immediately, choosing the defensive instead of going deeper and chasing him down the rabbit hole of honesty.

"See what is that?" he questioned.It was clear he was not going to be letting this go anytime soon.

"I'm trying to do the assignment. I'm trying to get to know you and you push me away."

"Don't be ridiculous."you roll your eyes toward him once again."I'm not pushing you away I just have boundaries and things I don’t want to discuss with you."

You push up from the couch and head in the direction of your room. It was not within his right to pry about your personal relationships,and truly there was nothing more to discuss. Plus, you knew if you stayed close to him a moment longer, you would give into his eyes and the beautiful vanes bulging in his large hand.

"Why?" he asked jumping to his feet,his agility momentarily shocking you as you turn to leave.

"Because I don't want to ! Because you're not-"

"Not what?" he pushes" I've been working around you and this thing between us and I don't why you can be blunt about everything else except this !" He got dangerously close to raising his voice and it stirred the butterflies in your stomach. Something about him being so stern with you set your sex drive ablaze. You could feel yourself biting down hard on your bottom lip and the more you refused to break eye contact with him the more fired up you became. You could see the honesty behind his eyes, he was trying with you, he was proving himself every step of the way and you hated how much you loved it.

"Fine. What is it? What's the THIS?" you ask sarcastically, staring directly at him. His face looked blank and you wondered for a moment if you had asked the right thing. He grabs your hand,falling back onto the couch and pulling you onto the couch on top of him.You quickly realize you are able to put yourself in a position where you can straddle him as he grabs your face, pulling you down to kiss him. You kiss him back slowly , taking time to explore with your tongue. You can feel his hand tangled in your hair at the back of your head and it does something wild to you. You grind down into him and you hear a slight moan escape his mouth.

You bite down suddenly on his bottom lip before coming up for air and he simply can't take it anymore. He wraps his arms around your legs and lifts you up by the bottom of your thighs, carrying you into the bedroom. You feel ridiculously delicate in his arms as he carries you. You break from the kiss momentarily, to make sure your head is ducking all the way under the doorframe as he holds you,smiling into your kiss.

You pull your own shirt off, letting it hit the floor with a loud 'thwack'. The noise momentarily wakes you out of your horny haze. As he lays you on the bed,you bring your forearm up to cover your eyes, in the vaguest attempt of shielding yourself from your own embarrassment. He pulls your pants off and while unsure ,you don't protest as he gingerly splays your legs open for him to see the wetness that had pooled in your underwear.

"O you're so wet for me now."he smiles from ear to ear as you peek through your hand just enough to see his perfectly chiseled chest and you shut your eyes again wondering if this could be real, if he's real.

" We're not done ."he smirks, grabbing you by the legs and pulling you towards him. He then gracefully flips you over onto your hands and knees facing away from him.He pulls your panties down and drags his large fingers over your wet slit and you arch your back at his touch. He settles one hand on your hip as he uses the other hand to work himself into you.You had imagined he was big, but when you feel his head poking into you, you knew your fantasies could never compare to the reality. He uses the hand on your hip to slowly pull you further onto him until you are taking in his whole length. Moving painstakingly slowly, in and out of you. You hear him moaning above you and then he whispers "Fuck” in that stupid accent before snapping his hips into you and pushing you forward. He uses his other hand to prop you up because he knows he's pushing way to hard for someone of your size. Slamming into your pretty little cunt over and over again. You let out his name and you allow plea after plea for him to let you cum. He pounds into you grabbing your hair and pulling your face up to meet his.After a few more thrusts he finally graces you with a reply.

"No." he says and then pulls out of you. Your body immediately feels drained, completely and utterly fucked out and somehow all you want is more. You hold the position for a minute breathing into the lack of movement when you look back to see Henry watching you. Working himself in his large hand, the veins in his arms bulging and a slight bead of sweat beginning to work it's way onto his forehead.

"Turn over" he commands, and as much as you want to move quickly your legs feel like jelly,the smile line at the corner of his mouth fades as he walks towards you and flips you over himself. He positions himself above you again and says "I want to see that pretty face you make when you cum." he smiles down at you sweetly. Pushing in between your hot folds again and the noise you make is downright pornographic. You know it , he knows it and only fuels the fire behind his thrusts . He reaches for your neck again, giving you a pale necklace of fingers and veins that contrasts with your skin . With his other hand you feel him grab at your hand and interlace your fingers with his, above your head. Your eyes fly open and he is looking directly at you, smiling a bit and you can tell he is taking you in. Revelling in all the tiny noises and ways your body responds to his. You can feel his pace quicken as his moans increase, it almost feels as though the longer you look at him the harder he fucks into you, challenging you, seeing if you can handle him. His curls begin to dampen and stick to his forehead, you watch while he looks down on you. He momentarily breaks having his hand at your throat to bring his own pointer to his mouth. You watch as he lighlty bites down on it while letting out a moan.It's almost as if he's trying to keep himself quiet, or burn this view into his brain, but he's to turned on to focus. He fucks into you harder and harder, you can't take it, seeing his teeth around his own finger made you absolutely feral. You cried out his name immediately and before you could realize what was happening you felt your walls tightening again under him. Your legs shook as waves of pleasure washed over you and you could feel yourself clamping down on him. He fucked you through the orgasm, and when it seemed as though you had recovered, he climbed up your body, forcing his cock down your throat, and came instantly. He shudders and makes deep grunts on top of you. You can't help but gag a little on his length as you try to take in the art that is his unclothed body. He hears you struggling for breath and immediately pulls himself out of you. He holds a thumb at the bottom of your chin and watches as you swallow every drop of him. When you're done you look up at him, giving him your best attempt at doe eyes and he turns your chin up for him to kiss you . Fuck. Fuck. you were not supposed to fuck your coworker.Especially not this coworker, you barely even liked him. After a few moments of making out the contact fizzled and eventually he was just laying next to you, breathing heavily.

"It's purely physical." you sighed, watching the small curly hairs on his pecs as his chest heaved.

"Is it?" he began laughing. His smile shone bright in the dimness of the room. He turns to face you, leaning in for a kiss again and you're to weak to deny him.

"Dammit." he whispers between your lips. You grab the back of his head pulling him closer to you, your mind to blissed out and high for you to think.He kisses you hard and then pulls back. He hops off the bed, chest heaving as he uses his forearm to wipe away the sweat. You sleepily roll over to face where he's going. Some minutes pass and before you know it your overly fucked body is begging for rest.You drift of to sleep feeling euphoria in the big bed.

[holylulusworld]

The taming of the shrew (5)

Summary: You and your alpha live your life the way you want to. 

Pairing: Alpha!Dean x Omega!Reader

Characters: Mary Winchester, John Winchester, OFC's

Warnings: pregnant reader, nesting, scenting, protective Dean/angry Dean, cuddling & snuggling, annoying mother-in-law, daddy!Dean feels, light smut, unprotected sex

Y/M/N = your mother's name

Divider by @firefly-graphics​​

The taming of the shrew masterlist

“Y/N, maybe you should place the pillows over there. This way Dean could-“ your mother growls low in her throat, glares at Mary who dared to nag about the nest you made on the bed Dean built for you and his growing family. “Why didn’t Dean buy a bed? This is so – raw.”

“My mate built the bed with his hands. It’s beautiful, comfortable, and large enough for us and the pups. My alpha wants our children to sleep with us after I gave birth,” you quip, ignoring Mary doesn’t like the bed. “Look he carved our names into the headboard.”

“Dean did a great job! I sent pictures to my husband and he said that he never saw a better bed. He’s so talented,” your mother swoons. “You must be proud of your son. He’s such a good mate, caring boyfriend and I know he’ll be a wonderful father.”

Mary is not used to people praising her son or that she doesn’t get to have the last word. She looks around the bedroom Dean created for you, not missing her son put a lot of effort and love into it.

“It’s nice, I guess,” Mary says, watching you place a few shirts and plaids onto the bed. You had to remove your nest in the bedroom and Dean still has some scratches as you fought him with tooth and nails. “Maybe you need more blankets.”

“Mom,” Dean snarls, stepping inside your bedroom. “I think Y/N needs some time alone in our bedroom. She wants to make a nest. Do not disturb my omega.” Chest puffed Dean waltzes toward you to stand close to you.

“Dean is right,” your mother coos, grasping for Mary’s hand. “We should leave the young people alone. He’s such a caring alpha.” your mother snickers, watching Mary’s face fall. “We will give you time, Y/N.”

“Why don’t you use something else, omega?” Dean whines, watching you steal more clothes out of his wardrobe. “You’ve got all my favorite shirts and plaids. I only got no matching socks left and now you want my last plaid.”

“I love it, alpha,” humming Dean longingly looks at the nest you created. “It’s soft and look,” pointing at Dean’s side of the nest you purr low in your throat. “I placed it on your side of the bed, along with your socks.”

“My socks,” Dean laughs, glancing at the socks framing the nest on his side of the bed. “Your nest looks like art.”

“Ours, Dean,” grasping for Dean’s hand you place it onto your belly. “This is for you, me and the pups, not just me,” nodding Dean closes his eyes when he feels your babies kick. “How about we test it when our mothers are gone?”

“Did my mom annoy you again?” moving his arms around you Dean purrs when you rest your head against his chest. “I can set her straight again. If you want me to, I can use my alpha voice.”

“I used my omega voice last time. Mary and I talked things out. I made her see she’s not going to decide anything involving you, me, or our children. She still struggles and needs help,” giggling you run your hand over Dean’s chest. “But my mom volunteers to help Mary adapt.”

“God, I love you and your mom,” looking up at Dean you fist his shirt. “I love you more, I swear. You will always come first, you and our kids.”

“I know you do,” pecking Dean’s lips you smirk when his hands become brave. He moves his fingers over your back, tickles your skin before he gropes a handful of your ass. “Dean!”

“Baby girl,“ whining you lick into Dean’s mouth. “I need you, sweetheart, omega…my love,” your hands fist his shirt, drag him toward the nest you prepared. “On your nest?”

“Our nest, alpha,“ you nuzzle his cheek, moaning when you catch his scent. “Lock the door and we can test it, Dean. I want to see if we feel comfortable on our nest.” giggling you watch your alpha stumble toward the door, already fighting to get his pants open. “Hurry, alpha. I’m waiting for you.”

“I’m on it, Y/N. Lemme just lock the door and-“ his pants drop to the ground, followed by his shoes and shirt. Your alpha snickers, watching you wiggle your ass on the bed, sticking it out to lure him toward your nest. “Fuck, baby girl don’t do this to me.“

“Come here, lover boy,“ you smirk when Dean almost trips over the carpet to get to your nest. He snarls, watching you bury your face into his plaids on your nest. “We don’t have all day, alpha.”

“Patience, sweetheart. I need to check if you are ready for me,” moving behind you Dean looks at you on your nest. He purrs, enjoying the sight of his pregnant mate waiting for him while he runs his fingers through your folds. “You’re so wet, naughty girl.”

“I’m a pregnant omega, Winchester. Now get ready, I’m on the edge for two days,” you whine, looking over your shoulder. “Give me what I need, Dean.”

“Naughty girl,” he carefully nudges at your entrance, watching you throw your head back when he inches his way inside your body. “Taking my cock so good.”

“So good,” pushing back onto Dean’s length you giggle when he grips your thighs carefully. Usually, he would roughly let you feel his dominance but since you are having his pups, he’s gentle and afraid to hurt you.

“I know I’m damn good, sweetheart,” you giggle at Dean’s words, slowly start to rock your body with your mate. “Do you want to shock our moms? I could make you scream.”

“DEAN, don’t you dare to shock my mom,” your alpha hums, grinning when you start to moan his name. He thrusts slowly, drags his thick cock along your walls to bring you over the edge before your mothers start to wonder what takes you so long.

“Love seeing you all stretched out on my fat dick,” you groan. “Do you know how tight your little pussy feels around me when I knot you? I could write poems about it.”

“Fucking pervert,” Dean snorts, not giving away he tried to make you laugh. “But don’t stop now, Baby. I’m so close.”

“Already?” speeding up Dean growls when you clench tightly around him after only a few more thrusts. “Damnit, sweetheart, I wanted to go for longer,” he whines, filling you seconds later. Dean carefully pulls out, admiring your sweat-slicked skin for a moment.

“I needed that,” you grin, rolling to your side to make space for Dean. “I guess, we’ll need to change the sheets later.”

“Smells like us,” purring low in his throat Dean lies behind you, moving closer enough to scent you. “Maybe we should have a shower and join our mothers. I don’t want them to walk in on us butt-naked.”

“Aw, you’re such a prude,” you giggle. “Don’t you want your mommy to see you’re a grown man who likes to have sex with his mate? I bet you want her to believe you’re still her good boy.”

“I never was a good boy,” pecking your neck, nibbling at your skin Dean grunts. “I was a rebel and good with the ladies before you came along.”

“You’re lucky I came along, or you would’ve spent the rest of your life alone up here. Grumpy alpha,” humming your mate kisses along your shoulder. “Now let’s have a shower…”

“Why does the nest look so – chaotic?” Mary watches you drape another plaid over Dean’s side of the bed. “Wasn’t the red plaid on the other side and why are the socks on the ground?”

“I like it messy,” Dean says, grinning at you. If he could, he would tell his mother your nest looks messy as you fucked on it not half an hour ago, but he bites his tongue. “And we don’t need socks on the nest but our feet.”

“I see,” your mother chuckles, knowing you too well. “I guess our children know best. I think they love the new nest without a doubt,” giving you a wink your mother walks out of the bedroom. “How about we focus on dinner? My husband and yours will be here soon.”

“Right,” gritting her teeth Mary looks at the nest, wondering why you let Dean remove the socks. “Food is ready soon, Dean. You better hurry up and help Y/N down the stairs.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Dean smirks, holding out his hand. “I will make sure my omega walks down the stairs safely. Nothing will happen to her on my watch.”

“What if she goes into labor? Wouldn’t it be safer to find a house closer to ours, in an actual town? Not out here in the middle of nowhere,” Mary still didn’t give up the dream to have her son, you, and her grandchildren close enough to see you every day.

“Mom, a midwife lives down the road. Her husband is a doctor and if I call an ambulance, they’ll be here in no time,” grunting Dean wraps his arm around your waistline. “Y/N loves the house, just like me. It’s not even an hour away. Other kids move to another state or county, mom.”

“Fine, fine,” Mary sighs, wringing her hands. “I just want my family as close as possible. We don’t want to miss a moment in your life.”

“Oh, I think you want to miss a few moments,” grinning Dean wiggles his eyebrows. “And I can tell, those moments are not that rare.”

“DEAN WINCHESTER,” his mother scolds your alpha. “We have guests! Don’t talk about-,” she struggles to say the word, so you whisper ‘sex’ and she nods, sighing deeply. “I raised you better.”

“Still, I became a dirty boy,” you love the way Dean tries to rile his mother up. “Come on, mom. I know you and dad do it more than once a month.”

“Dean!” this time you scold your alpha seeing Mary’s face turn crimson. “We don’t talk about our parents' love life within these walls. Now help me get the dishes ready.”

“Yes, ma’am,” giggling you walk toward the kitchen, Dean hot on your heels.

“They are perfect together,” your mother swoons, watching Dean kiss your hair softly when you try to grab a plate. “Look at them, young love.”

“Can you not talk them into moving to town?” Mary watches Dean whisper something in your ear, making you giggle. “I did a great job bringing them together, Y/M/N. Now we need to stick together and get our kids back.”

“Not so loud, Mary,” your mother shushes. “Y/N can never know I helped you find her true mate. She would still be sad and lonely. I saw it in her eyes anytime one of her friends got mated.”

“We will talk about this later, Y/M/N. I want my Dean and your daughter to move into the house I bought at the end of the street. It’s safe, large, and-,” Mary sighs when you tell Dean how much you love your home. “They won’t move in…”

“No, they won’t,” your mother smiles when you check on Dean’s neck, soothing the scratches you left with a soft kiss. “Look at them, Mary. Do I wish they live right next to me? Of course, but Y/N and Dean are adults, mated and expecting their babies. Let’s just be on the sideline and watch them.”

“We are almost done,” you coo, looking at your mother. “Something wrong, mom?” While John and your father talked about the bed Dean built for you, your mother and Mary watched you and your mate.

“No, no,” your mother sniffles. “You’re just glowing since you are expecting, sweetheart,” you whine, rushing toward your mom to hug her tightly. “My little girl will have her own babies soon and I’m just a little emotional.”

“Must be an omega thing,” Dean grumbles, watching you cry with your mom. “Last week Y/N cried as the snowflakes are too pretty and the hot chocolate I made for her was too delicious.”

“It was Dean,” you sniffle, turning your attention toward your alpha. “You put tiny marshmallow hearts inside,” Dean groans, rolling his eyes when you hide your face in his chest. “How could I be mad you ate the last slice of pie if you do such a cute thing.”

“I’m not doing cute things,” not wanting to let John, Sam, and your father know he’s weak for you, Dean tries to act tough. “I just need to make sure my omega is safe and happy,” John laughs when Dean tries to lie about all the sweet things he does for you.

“Son, save it. We all had to give up our rough façade to please our omegas. I had to write a fucking poem to earn my mark on her neck,” John grumbles. “Mary was a wild and feisty omega, just like your Y/N. I guess that’s the reason she likes her so much.”

“John, that’s a secret,” Mary tuts. “Don’t tell anyone I was a wild child when we were young,” swooning John pecks Mary’s lips, remembering their first dates.

“How about dinner?” Dean tries to not think about his parents having sex. He shudders, scrunching up his nose. “I’m hungry…”

“Finally, alone,” you crawl on top of your alpha to snuggle into his chest. “I love my parents and your family, but they are exhausting.”

“How do you feel, sweetheart? Do you need me to get you anything? Maybe a late-night snack?” Dean snickers when you pat his chest.

“I could have some chicken and dessert. Maybe you should get something too?” you smirk when Dean pecks your cheek before he carefully helps you sit on your nest. “Get two plates, alpha.” Running your hands over your swollen belly you purr. “Your son is kicking me! This means he wants more pie. Don’t let him wake your daughter.”

“I’ll get him some pie,” giggling you watch Dean run toward the door. “Give me a minute, Y/N. Your alpha will get you your food…”

“That’s perfect,” your back rests against Dean’s chest. He placed a bamboo tray with fold-away legs in front of you. While you relax against his warm chest, Dean feeds you with your favorite food. “I could get used to letting you feed me.”

“I like to pamper you, sweetheart. How about I rub your back later? Or your belly,” yawning you pat Dean’s thigh.

“We will eat the food and sleep later. You need your rest too, Dean. In not three months there will be two crying babies keeping us awake. Let’s enjoy the silence for a while,” Dean hums, hiding he can’t wait to hear his babies cry for the first time.

“I’ll rub your belly later,” he decides, pecking your hair before he stuffs more food into your mouth. “Now let me have some pie.”

>> Part 6

SPN Forever Tags

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--------------------------------------

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[blackswaneuroparedux]

Anonymous asked: As a beginner in Classics I love your Classicist themed posts. I find your caption perfect posts a lot to think upon. I suppose it’s been more than a few years since you read Classics at Cambridge but my question is do you still bother to read any Classic texts and if so what are you currently reading?

I don’t know whether to be flattered or get depressed by your (sincere) remarks. Thank you so much for reminding me how old I must come across as my youngish Millennial bones are already starting to creak from all my sins of past sport injuries and physical exertions. I’m reminded of what J.R.R Tolkien wrote, “I feel thin, sort of stretched, like butter scraped over too much bread.” I know the feeling (sigh).

But pay heed, dear follower, to what Menander said of old age, Τίμα το γήρας, ου γαρ έρχεται μόνον (respect old age, for it does not come alone). Presumably he means we all carry baggage. One hopes that will be wisdom which is often in the form of experience, suffering, and regret. So I’m not ready to trade in my high heels and hiking boots for a walking stick and granny glasses just yet.

To answer your question, yes, I still to read Classical literature and poetry in their original text alongside trustworthy translations. Every day in fact. 

I learned Latin when I was around 8 or 9 years old and Greek came later - my father and grandfather are Classicists - and so it would be hard to shake it off even if I tried.

So why ‘bother’ to read Classics? There are several reasons. First, the Classics are the Swiss Army knife to unpick my understanding other European languages that I grew up with learning. Second, it increases my cultural literacy out of which you can form informed aesthetic judgements about any art form from art, music, and literature. Third, Classical history is our shared history which is so important to fathom one’s roots and traditions. Fourth, spending time with the Classics - poetry, myth, literature, history - inspires moral insight and virtue. Fifth, grappling with classical literature informs the mind by developing intellectual discipline, reason, and logic.

And finally, and perhaps one I find especially important, is that engaging with Classical literature, poetry, or history, is incredibly humbling; for the classical world first codified the great virtues of prudence, temperance, justice, loyalty, sacrifice, and courage. These are qualities that we all painfully fall short of in our every day lives and yet we still aspire to such heights.

I’m quite eclectic in my reading. I don’t really have a method other than what my mood happens to be. I have my trusty battered note book and pen and I sit my arse down to translate passages wherever I can carve out a place to think. It’s my answer to staving off premature dementia when I really get old because quite frankly I’m useless at Soduku. We spend so much time staring at screens and passively texting that we don’t allow ourselves to slow down and think that physically writing gives you that luxury of slow motion time and space. In writing things out you are taking the time to reflect on thoughts behind the written word.

I do make a point of reading Homer’s The Odyssey every year because it’s just one of my favourite stories of all time. Herodotus and Thucydides were authors I used to read almost every day when I was in the military and especially when I went out to war in Afghanistan. Not so much these days. Of the Greek poets, I still read Euripides for weighty stuff and Aristophanes for toilet humour. Aeschylus, Archilochus and Alcman, Sappho, Hesiod, and Mimnermus, Anacreon, Simonides, and others I read sporadically.

I read more Latin than Greek if I am honest. From Seneca, Caesar, Cicero, Sallust, Tacitus, Livy, Apuleius, Virgil, Ovid, the younger Pliny to Augustine (yes, that Saint Augustine of Hippo). Again, there is no method. I pull out a copy from my book shelves and put it in my tote bag when I know I’m going on a plane trip for work reasons.

At the moment I am spending time with Horace. More precisely, his famous odes.

Of all the Greek and Latin poets, I feel spiritually comfortable with Horace. He praises a simple life of moderation in a much gentler tone than other Roman writers. Although Horace’s odes were written in imitation of Greek writers like Sappho, I like his take on friendship, love, alcohol, Roman politics and poetry itself. With the arguable exception of Virgil, there is no more celebrated Roman poet than Horace. His Odes set a fashion among English speakers that come to bear on poets to this day. His Ars Poetica, a rumination on the art of poetry in the form of a letter, is one of the seminal works of literary criticism. Ben Jonson, Pope, Auden, and Frost are but a few of the major poets of the English language who owe a debt to the Roman.

We owe to Horace the phrases, “carpe diem” or “seize the day” and the “golden mean” for his beloved moderation. Victorian poet Alfred Lord Tennyson, of Ancient Mariner fame, praised the odes in verse and Wilfred Owen’s great World War I poem, Dulce et Decorum est, is a response to Horace’s oft-quoted belief that it is “sweet and fitting” to die for one’s country.

Unlike many poets, Horace lived a full life. And not always a happy one. Horace was born in Venusia, a small town in southern Italy, to a formerly enslaved mother. He was fortunate to have been the recipient of intense parental direction. His father spent a comparable fortune on his education, sending him to Rome to study. He later studied in Athens amidst the Stoics and Epicurean philosophers, immersing himself in Greek poetry. While led a life of scholarly idyll in Athens, a revolution came to Rome. Julius Caesar was murdered, and Horace fatefully lined up behind Brutus in the conflicts that would ensue. His learning enabled him to become a commander during the Battle of Philippi, but Horace saw his forces routed by those of Octavian and Mark Antony, another stop on the former’s road to becoming Emperor Augustus.

When he returned to Italy, Horace found that his family’s estate had been expropriated by Rome, and Horace was, according to his writings, left destitute. In 39 B.C., after Augustus granted amnesty, Horace became a secretary in the Roman treasury by buying the position of questor's scribe. In 38, Horace met and became the client of the artists' patron Maecenas, a close lieutenant to Augustus, who provided Horace with a villa in the Sabine Hills. From there he began to write his satires. Horace became the major lyric Latin poet of the era of the Augustus age. He is famed for his Odes as well as his caustic satires, and his book on writing, the Ars Poetica. His life and career were owed to Augustus, who was close to his patron, Maecenas. From this lofty, if tenuous, position, Horace became the voice of the new Roman Empire. When Horace died at age 59, he left his estate to Augustus and was buried near the tomb of his patron Maecenas.

Horace’s simple diction and exquisite arrangement give the odes an inevitable quality; the expression makes familiar thoughts new. While the language of the odes may be simple, their structure is complex. The odes can be seen as rhetorical arguments with a kind of logic that leads the reader to sometimes unexpected places. His odes speak of a love of the countryside that dedicates a farmer to his ancestral lands; exposes the ambition that drives one man to Olympic glory, another to political acclaim, and a third to wealth; the greed that compels the merchant to brave dangerous seas again and again rather than live modestly but safely; and even the tensions between the sexes that are at the root of the odes about relationships with women.

What I like then about Horace is his sense of moderation and he shows the gap between what we think we want and what we actually need. Horace has a preference for the small and simple over the grandiose. He’s all for independence and self-reliance.

If there is one thing I would nit pick Horace upon is his flippancy to the value of the religious and spiritual. The gods are often on his lips, but, in defiance of much contemporary feeling, he absolutely denied an afterlife - which as a Christian I would disagree with. So inevitably “gather ye rosebuds while ye may” is an ever recurrent theme, though Horace insists on a Golden Mean of moderation - deploring excess and always refusing, deprecating, dissuading.

All in all he champions the quiet life, a prayer I think many men and women pray to the gods to grant them when they are caught in the open Aegean, and a dark cloud has blotted out the moon, and the sailors no longer have the bright stars to guide them. A quiet life is the prayer of Thrace when madness leads to war. A quiet life is the prayer of the Medes when fighting with painted quivers: a commodity, Grosphus, that cannot be bought by jewels or purple or gold? For no riches, no consul’s lictor, can move on the disorders of an unhappy mind and the anxieties that flutter around coffered ceilings.

Caelum non animum mutant qui trans mare currunt (they change their sky, not their soul, who rush across the sea.)

Part of Horace’s persona - lack of political ambition, satisfaction with his life, gratitude for his land, and pride in his craft and the recognition it wins him - is an expression of an intricate web of awareness of place. Reading Horace will centre you and get you to focus on what is most important in life. In Horace’s discussion of what people in his society value, and where they place their energy and time, we can find something familiar. Horace brings his reader to the question - what do we value?  

Much like many of our own societies, Rome was bustling with trade and commerce, ambition, and an area of vast, diverse civilisation. People there faced similar decisions as we do today, in what we pursue and why. As many of us debate our place and purpose in our world, our poet reassures us all. We have been coursing through Mondays for thousands of years. Horace beckons us: take a brief moment from the day’s busy hours. Stretch a little, close your eyes while facing the warm sun, and hear the birds and the quiet stream. The mind that is happy for the present should refuse to worry about what is further ahead; it should dilute bitter things with a mild smile.

I would encourage anyone to read these treasures in translations. For you though, as a budding Classicist, read the texts in Latin and Greek if you can. Wrestle with the word. The struggle is its own reward. Whether one reads from the original or from a worthy translation, the moral virtue (one hopes) is wisdom and enlightenment.

Pulvis et umbra sumus

(We are but dust and shadow.)

Thanks for your question.

[thanksjro]

More Than Meets the Eye #30 - The Cybertronian Judicial System is a Friggin’ Joke

Have I mentioned that I’m not a huge fan of court case stories? I think they’re pretty boring, on average, so the last couple of issues have been slightly dragging for me.

Anyway, back to Megatron’s trial. 

Our issue opens up with a full back shot of Ultra Magnus.

Artists take note, he really is built like a capital T.

As Magnus reads out Megatron’s statement retracting his “guilty” plea, we get some decent points as to why. See, telling a guy that you’ll stab him in the brain, so his trial can be over as quickly as possible, maybe isn’t such a hot idea. Megatron wasn’t a huge fan of that, or of how those memories they would’ve yanked outta him would have been used to fuel the Autobot propaganda machine. Why, you may ask?

Well, I don’t know if you knew this or not, but Megatron… doesn’t particularly care for the Autobots, nor the rhetoric they uphold.

I know, I was surprised too!

There’s also the fact that Optimus Prime is the judge on this whole thing. You know. Optimus Prime. Off and on leader of the Autobots, whenever it suits him. The guy who fucked off into space for a year after the war. The guy who threw a hissy fit when someone pointed out that he was compromised the last time they did something like this with Megatron. This guy:

Yeah, there might be a slight conflict of interests here. Remind me again why this had to be a military trial?

Anyway, enough of that, it’s time for a fight scene.

A swarm of Decepticons storm the arena, going after Megatron so they can help him escape. Magnus, though acting as Megatron’s defense, cannot abide by this disorder in the court.

Wild to think there’s a tiny little Pringles man with anxiety in there, isn’t it?

Optimus joins the fray, because there really are, just, so many guys to deal with here. A dude goes to collect Megatron, stating that they brought teleport packs for this little shindig. Megatron isn’t super jazzed about that though, not bothering to grab on before the dude gets shot to death. There’s a brief recess, I guess so the janitorial staff can deal with the mess of corpses littering the courtroom.

Meanwhile, in the present day, Rung’s building a model spaceship in Swerve’s, which is a very brave thing to be doing, seeing how sticky and gross bars can be. Brainstorm’s brought a flask to the bar, and proceeds to pour the contents into a funnel sticking out of his arm.

Our bartender for the evening- I’m assuming it’s evening, but I doubt the concept of time has any real weight in space- is Bluestreak. Bluestreak was stationed on Earth for a while, which is some Phase One stuff, and took a liking to human media while he was there. He’s the guy who handles movie night these days, seeing as Rewind’s too busy being dead to do it, and I doubt Chromedome has the emotional bandwidth to take over for his late spouse.

Bluestreak’s favorite movie is Zulu, a film glorifying the colonialism of the English over the native populace of an African kingdom. Make of that what you will.

Whirl wants to watch À Bout de Soufflé, or Breathless, as it was translated for the English-speaking world, which is a French New Wave film about a criminal who shoots a cop, hides from the police in a journalist’s home, who he seduces and likely impregnates. She eventually finds out what he did, reports him to the police, but then has a change of heart and lets him know what she’s done. He runs, but is shot, and dies in the street. The film is notable for its final scene, in which the following dialogue happens, between the dying criminal Michael, his lover Patricia, and an officer.

Of course, any poignancy would almost certainly be lost on the average comic book reader, and is also somewhat nullified by Whirl praising the film with internet lingo.

Then again, I suppose Whirl would be the type to dismantle any deeper reading of his interest in such a film, lest he be subjected to the horrifying ordeal of being known.

Over with Skids and Riptide, it’s revealed that Megatron’s been teaching classes on the Lost Light, specifically on the Knights of Cybertron. Riptide’s getting an education, because he’s been feeling pretty lost since the war ended- we’ll get to the potential whys of that later on. Swerve isn’t a fan of this community college thing that’s going on, stating that Megatron’s using it as a distraction, so he can devise plots most foul.

Back in the past, Autobot high command is having a talk about what Megatron’s demanding, and man is it a doozy— turns out, since the trial’s happening on Luna 2, the trial proceedings are subject to the laws of the moon. One of these moon laws is the right to request being judged by the Knights of Cybertron. Now, this is a problem, seeing as the Knights of Cybertron have been AWOL for the last several million years, but the law is the law, and you can’t just go ignoring it when someone’s pointed it out.

Bro, your SIC just suggested y’all pull the trial so you could slap it on Cybertron, thus negating any need to pay attention to the Knight law. That’s such a gross miscarrying of justice, it’s genuinely baffling. You’ve got bigger issues going on than flouting. My god, Optimus, you were a cop—

Oh wait, that’s right. Carry on, then.

Back on the Lost Light, First Aid’s checking to make sure that the coffin Rodimus they revealed last issue is true and proper dead. Now, this may seem like a given, but you’ve got to remember that Brainstorm was mostly dead for over a year and a half, and nobody fucking noticed, so it’s probably for the best that they’re checking.

First Aid’s been pretty withdrawn since Ambulon died, so this autopsy is really good for him, since it got him out of his room. Pretty fucked up that it would take a dead body to get him out and about. Has Rung checked in on his poor son of a gun, or has he been spending the last six months getting his professional rocks off psychoanalyzing a genocidal warlord?

Our coffin Rodimus died from having parts of his brain removed, and potentially died screaming.

Yes, that is a Furmanism, thank you peanut gallery, moving on—

Ratchet hands the phone over to Ultra Magnus, saying that a call has to be made, and it can’t be by him, because the callee is mighty upset with Ratchet at the moment.

Oh, I guess he’s fine after all. This must be where the sci-fi bullshit really starts kicking in for the series.

Because seeing your own dead body is likely very traumatic and awful, Rodimus is taking a while to string together his thoughts on the matter. Megatron doesn’t particularly care, because he’s not terribly sympathetic to this sort of thing, and the two get into a spat, where it’s revealed that they’re co-captaining the Lost Light.

Because things weren’t chaotic enough on this fucking ship. Need to mix in some peacocking between the McDonalds twunk and the man who killed half of Beijing.

Back in the past, Optimus Prime visited Megatron in prison to have a little chat. It’s not about that little rescue attempt, though the fact that those Decepticons may have been released from the Lost Light’s brig is certainly interesting. No, Optimus is here to sit way too close to his mortal nemesis on the floor of his room and talk about how Megatron is a sneaky bastard.

You remember the Hellraiser puzzle box from a couple issues back? Yeah, that was a communicube, one that was passed to Optimus to suggest that the trial be held on the moon, so the arena there would be able to hold all the people wronged by Megatron. This seems pretty damn convenient in hindsight, but Megatron swears that the legal loophole wasn’t his only intent when he sent the cube.

Because it’s all about you, isn’t it, Megatron? It’s all about how you’re perceived by future generations. Fuck the guys who had to actually deal with what your personal choices caused to happen.

Megatron wants to make amends with all those who were wronged by him. This doesn’t include being acquitted of his crimes, which, y’know, good- at least he’s being slightly realistic about how this is going to turn out for him.

What he wants to do is find Cyberutopia, so the Cybertronians have a replacement planet, since Cybertron kind of sucks now.

Oh, sorry, did I say realistic? I take it back.

In the present, Rodimus is still bummed out about being dead. Still, the day doesn’t stop just because it’s a bad one, and he calls in the experts.

CHROMEDOME YOU PROMISED TO STOP THIS SHIT

Yeah, no, Chromedome’s fallen off the wagon again, and does his thing on the coffin Rodimus. As he does, Megatron suddenly gets squeamish, Brainstorm pulls out his early early-warning device to lean on the fourth wall, and it’s revealed that the coffin that coffin Rodimus was in was built in the fashion of the Spectralist faith.

All Chromedome can suss out of coffin Rodimus’ memories is the really big important stuff, which includes the speech at Rivet’s Field inviting folks to come join the Knight Quest. Aww, that’s sweet.

With the analysis of the innermost energon complete, the results are in— the coffin Rodimus is a Rodimus. A real one, from the near future. Bummer.

I suppose denial is one of the seven stages of grief, isn’t it?

As everyone argues over whether or not Rodimus is going to die, Nightbeat brings up a good point— there aren’t any numbers carved into the coffin Rodimus’ hand. Rodimus is about to reveal some Ratchet-original wisdom, when things start getting really weird; whole sections of the Lost Light are disappearing.

Over at Swerve’s, Tailgate is regaling his peers with the story of his derring-do against Chief Justice Tyrest. Everyone is very impressed, and this includes our good buddy Getaway.

Jeez, think you’ve got enough antagonist shadows on this guy? It’s almost as if the art’s trying to tell us something about him.

Getaway lays it on real thick, saying that Tailgate could totally be the next Prime, with how courageous and awesome he is, all while completely ignoring Tailgate’s personal space and having a weirdly tiny hand. This seems to seriously bother Cyclonus, who is watching this shit go down from the doorway. Our purple space jet leaves once the drinks start being poured and conversation starts happening. God knows he hates talking about his insecurities.

Then the Pipes is Friggin’ Dead alarm goes off. But Pipes has been dead for a while now, so that must mean something else awful is happening.

Back during the trial, I guess because Optimus has a soft spot for Megatron, he allows him to join the Lost Light’s Knight Quest… even as he says that he could keep the guy locked up until Rodimus and pals find the Knights. However, there are rules to this, and one of the rules is that Megatron must publicly denounce the Decepticon cause.

It is a slow and painful experience for everyone involved, as he reads the statement he was given. It’s an immediate call to action- or rather, inaction.

Geez, think they could’ve made it any more obvious that this was being ghostwritten? I can’t wait to see how long it takes for “Megatron was blackmailed into saying this by the Autobots” to be a plotpoint.

Outside the prison, Ratchet and Rodimus are taking in the brand new Rod Pod, which is genuinely ridiculous in how large it is. Rodimus admits to having taken Atomizer’s list, though he knows that trying to use it to keep those who voted him off would be a pretty shitty thing to do.

Also, no one’s told him about Megatron coming along on the trip. As captain.

Or you could, I dunno, lock him up from the start. Or, if you want to give him a chance to prove himself, slap him into a bottom-rung role, like bilge cleaner, or sewage mucker, or whatever the equivalent would be on a spaceship full of giant gay robots. We don’t have to give the guy any power to hold him to scrutiny— any minimum wage worker will tell you that scrutiny comes far harsher for those who actually carry out orders than those who give them.

But what do I know? I’ve never fought in a several million year war, and I don’t plan to.

Getting back to the list, it seems as if Ratchet and Rodimus are on the same wavelength, in that both agree it’s only going to cause trouble and hurt feelings to keep the thing around. Rodimus destroys it with his usual flare, only to be blindsided by the fact that it was fake this entire time. How does Ratchet know this?

Because his name wasn’t on it.

...Man, that’s gotta sting. No wonder Rodimus was upset enough to not take his calls.

In the present, everyone’s in a panic, as they all bolt for the shuttle bay and start pouring into shuttles. The Lost Light is disintegrating around them, which is sort of a problem. Despite this nightmare scenario happening, Rodimus and Megatron still find the time to be assholes to each other. That’s dedication right there.

As the two bicker, multiple shuttles zip away from the rapidly disappearing ship, including the Rod Pod.

Man, now it really is the Lost Light.

[docholligay]

State of the Baby Union

It’s been nearly two months since I had Jewlet, and there’s a number of things that I’ve observed, learned, or otherwise experienced since then. This exists, so I can share them with you: Is this going to be useful to anyone? What will this look like? I have no idea. 

The good: 

It’s remarkable how much of a help Jill is, and how much she’s stepped up to the plate in all this. It’s particularly striking to me when I’m on mom’s groups or talking to other women who are married to men, and realize the MAJORITY VAST VAST MAJORITY of men don’t take on hardly anything for the baby. They don’t get up at night with the baby, they don’t take on extra chores around the house, they believe it’s their god-given right to come home and have ‘leisure time” some of them even get JEALOUS of the attention the baby is getting. My wife works overnights. Every night she has off? What is technically her weekend? She gets up with the baby instead of me. Her ‘weekend’? Is my Monday and Tuesday. She takes the baby all day so I can work (Except today when she is volunteering at the zoo, doing a checkup on the wolverines) anyway I’m very lucky to have her, and I love watching her with the baby, she’s a wonderful mother. She’s so loving and sweet. Jill has always been far more maternal than I am, which is not to say I’m a bad mother, but simply that the sweet soft mommy thing is definitely her ahaha. I love her now more than I did before, even, and I know having a first child strains a lot of marriages but it’s made ours even stronger. 

Special shoutout to Teddy Nick, also, who has taken such an active role in Jewlet’s life. I expected help from her! This in itself was not a shock. But I have been so surprised by how much she has been willing and able to do, extra, stupid things that I don’t even need but are very well liked, such as sitting with Jewlet at night sometimes so I can take a bath. That kind of extra shit! I am spoiled immensely. She’s got Jewlet in the wrap right now for the simple reason that it’s easier for her to type with it on than it is for me (I am smol, and my setup doesn’t support a large amount of space between me and the desk). I never expected her to do THIS much, and I’m very very lucky. 

Jewlet is becoming a real person! She smiles at me, and laughs, and stretches so cute in the morning and it’s starting to feel more like interacting with someone rather than being acted upon. It’s made such a difference in my mood, just because she can realistically interact with me in a way she couldn’t before. Her little happy baby noises are so cute, and I can see her turning into Midge the person. It’s delightful every day to get to see how she’s coming along, the person she’s going to be and it’s exciting too! There’s so many things I want to show her and share with her, and as much as I love her now, every day lets me know we’re closer and closer to when I can show her and teach her things. 

JEWLET SLEEPS SO MUCH BETTER AT NIGHT THAN WE HAVE ANY RIGHT TO EXPECT. She can be a real pill during the day sometimes and that’s frustrating when I’m trying to get things done but she refuses to be put down, but at night? She’ll routinely, not every single night, but OFTEN, sleep from 9-3, which means I have my half hour to read at night and then also actually get some goddamn sleep. It’s miraculous. 

The bad: 

Holy shit is it difficult to get anything done. I started writing this post at 9:30 am, it’s now 12:30. I have cried so often over the raw frustration of trying to manage having an infant and pumping and doing my job and I am more stressed out than I have ever been in my life over the sheer volume of shit I CAN’T get done right now. I’m so used to being together and having my life in order and having time for things. It’s STARTING to get better, as we work out a routine, Jewlet gets SLIGHTLY more likely to let me put her down for five minutes, and Jetty and I start alternating our schedules so there’s always one of us to watch Jewlet. But it’s hard, it’s so hard. (On that note, if I owe you something, we’ll pick it up in the next few months, as things get worked out. THANK YOU FOR YOUR PATIENCE) 

I don’t have time for things! I miss doing my little craft projects and art stuff, I want to start running and working out, and only recently have managed to carve time out to read. It’s really wearing, and I see how women can fall into making their baby their whole personality, because what else can you do? It’s so hard to keep any of the things you loved going, and I have a ton of help compared to other people. It feels so dehumanizing sometimes. 

Sometimes I just cried in the last six weeks because I couldn’t get her to stop crying, or I missed being able to simply clean the house, or I felt unappreciated for what I CAN do, or my feelings got hurt badly. Sometimes I feel everyone is better at juggling all this than I am, at being a mother and working and keeping a home. 

The ugly:

I had a REAL HARD post labor situation, and it took weeks to resolve at all. I still have some symptoms and difficulties and pain, and it’s annoying and it make things even harder for me emotionally, because I not only have the reality of struggling with my new time based reality, but also my physical reality, which I am utterly unwilling to accept as a long term thing and am going to keep working against. I desperately want the athletic, conditioned body I had back, which could do so much for so long with such balance and flexibility (and also fit all my motherfucking clothes). 

I think that’s generally the hardest part, is finding MYSELF in my new reality. I sound ungrateful, and I don’t mean to, but I think more than anyone in the family, I’ve had to drop a lot of balls lately, and it’s hard! I can’t wait till I’m back up to making all my cards, and writing, and cooking elaborate things, and all of those things that make me ME. I miss myself, in some ways, as dumb as that sounds.