#struggling between what she feels obligated to do and what she desires to do

[tvrningout]

the angst of jjk chiyo in high school is extra painful bc ~friends are getting hurt and seniors are becoming curse users~

#chiyo vc: i didn’t even wanna go to this school man #honestly chiyo still just wants to be a mangaka in her jjk verse so she’s just constantly tired and #struggling between what she feels obligated to do and what she desires to do #she can’t leave jujutsu society bc if her friends get hurt she’ll feel responsible #but if she stays and they get hurt she’ll also feel responsible and feel sad that she isn’t pursuing her dream #as a manager i’m assuming they’re responsible for assigning sorcerers their assignments so chiyo’s constantly #a ball of anxiety when doing that part of her job #brain worms are eating me alive and it’s almost 1 am #i gotta be awake at 6 and at work by 8 😭 #get ready to ramble | ooc

[sourpeachsayshi]

Praise kink with Nanami, please😭

·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳ minors / ageless blogs / blank blogs - do not interact.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ tags: therapist!nanami; client!reader; guided; forbidden; doctor-patient relationship; size kink(?)

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ notes: I went overboard with this one.

nanami's eyes darken, his glasses resting just below the bridge of his nose, irises blurring like the haze between night and day. he uncrosses then crosses his legs, desperately trying to adjust the bulge in his pants. his notebook is still resting comfortably on his lap, one of his hands fidgeting with the pen that he lightly taps against the paper, while the other traces the outline of his lip.

your legs are spread apart, your skirt flipped up, underwear pulled to the side. your shirt unbuttoned, exposing the lace fabric of your pretty, pretty bra. the sight of your cunt forms a knot in his throat, which he swallows while trying to forget the many nights he's jacked off picturing himself fucking you.

the one who came to him after leaving her horrible husband. who has struggled to find any sexual pleasure ever since, and who timidly admitted that she finds her underwear soaked after every session with dr. kento.

"I don't think," you sigh, your bottom lip trapped between your teeth. "I don't think this will work..."

"but you look good," he reassures, noticing your lashes flutter at his words. "Wet. I can see it from here..."

your face burns with embarrassment, and you part your lips to say something though no words come out.

"just keep listening, okay? you're doing really well for me, I promise this will help," he lies through his teeth, his cheeks tinting a shade of crimson of him abusing his role. "your middle and index finger, use it to rub your clit, not too fast...nice and easy..."

you oblige, and that doesn't take him by surprise. you listen to his guidance, start massaging the nub of your clit gently. a few minutes pass, but he's busy paying attention to your reactions. the way your breath hitches and your chest hiccupping as you try to stifle a moan.

"don't hold it in," he coos, "give in to your natural reactions. it's okay, I'm right here. I'm watching you, helping you. you trust me, right?"

"yes, doctor," you whimper and he hums in response.

"feels good?"

"uh-huh"

"you sound lovely, like you're enjoying it..."

"mmph~"

"faster. add a little more pressure, that's right..." he continues, "how do you feel?"

"warm-" you add, breathless and needy which only fuels his desire. "I l-like it, I like how it feels..."

"This is excellent progress, I'm proud of you," he praises, a hint of a devious smile ticking the corner of his lip. "try putting a finger in, there you go..."

his eyes narrow as you sink your middle finger into your hole. you gasp in slight shock, taken aback that you actually enjoyed the tiny stretch. nanami nearly snaps the pen his half. knowing full well that the length and thickness of his fingers would do far, far better.

you pump in and out, so slowly like you're trying to figure out what pacing you prefer. "doctor kento," you moan, though you are not addressing him with anything specific except to simply call out his name.

his cock twitches.

he takes his glasses off, and folds it neatly between his pressed shirt. he closes his notebook, the page filled with mindless scribbles that he put together to distract himself from being aroused by you.

"when we discussed your sex life prior to your marriage, you mentioned you enjoyed receiving oral," he states.

you gaze up at him with doe eyes from underneath your lashes, finger fucking yourself tenderly as you shake your head in confirmation.

he gets up from his seat, takes a few steps closer as he carefully rolls up his sleeve. he kneels before you, the afternoon light sparkling against his golden hair. his face far too close to your cunt.

"a more manual approach might do you some good," he mumbles, his large palms reaching for your plush thighs.

the heat burns behind your ears and down your neck, your muscles in your lower belly start quivering with delight and anticipation.

"you're gorgeous, by the way," he admits, dropping his professional mask and allowing his inner thoughts to speak on his behalf. "it's a shame your ex couldn't appreciate that..."

he moves on hand to circle around your wrist and draws it away from your soaking cunt. he brings your shaking fingers to his lips to taste your essence before releasing you with a pop.

"so sweet," he purrs. he drops your wrist, his hands smoothing over your inner thigh and over the curve of your pelvis. when he looks up at you, you almost don't recognize the devilish expression on the face of such a gentleman. "you deserve to feel this good. may I?"

you melt into the pillow behind you, your heart pounding so hard against your chest it makes the room around you spin.

"we'll go for as long as you can handle. alright, sweetheart?"

"yes, doctor kento"

"good girl," he murmurs, the depth of his voice making you tremble in your seat. "such a good girl..."

your eyes roll to the back of your head, a cry leaving your lips that sounds like an ache when he brings his tongue to your sex and drags upward along the glittering slit.

no more secrets x

#nanami kento x reader #nanami kento x you #nanami kento x y/n #nanami kento smut #nanami x reader #nanami x you #nanami x y/n #nanami smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk smut

[he-calls-me-kitten]

Ahem-

Thoughts on the brothers going on up to F!MC's room (And actually knocking for once since Simeon is over and they don't wanna barge in no matter how much they don't like them being alone) only for F!MC to open the door 🦆-ing disselved. Hair messed up, lipstick smudged, shirt halfway unbuttoned and hanging off their shoulder, her face flushed as she holds onto the doorframe yet totally unfazed by her current appearance as she just casually responds with a 'What's up' like it's normal. (Which probably is-) While Simeon is just on her bed in the background, shirt gone, covered in lipstick and bite marks from his face down to his lower stomach, face flushed as he pants and whines about them leaving

(Oh and MC being like short BC we love short dominant women 😋😋)

- M.🪭🪷

As a short fiesty girl myself, I very much approve this idea. Also um power up and get ready to tell "STAY" cause can you imagine the instant riot this is about to cause?

Or it might be more of a lengthy passive-aggresive couple of days for Simeon if this is the Nightbringer universe we are talking about.

"What's up?" You say with unbelievable nonchalance. The brothers look at you with widened eyes - at your newly exposed skin and the obvious signs of intimacy with someone.

They feel a burning inside them. Whether it's jealousy or the animalistic desire to rebrand you with their marks instead.

And if that wasn't enough - they actually see Simeon. Lying down and panting, with his face flushed and eyes struggling to stay open from the sheer bliss of it all.

His fingers were grasping at the sheets around you. "MC..." His needy voice slipped out.

Fuck. MC did that?

Suddenly everyone wants to be Simeon. They stare at the nails on your hands, your lips look even prettier with the smudged lipstick, your teeth peeking through your smirk - they want to feel it all.

Lucifer tries his best to remain calm but his eye twitches frantically as he calls out to Simeon to "have a quick word with him". And his face gets redder as he sees the marks you've made on Simeon up close, and glares at you. It should be him you should have been doing this with.

Mammon and Levi get into a tug of war, both trying to get you to their rooms. In the end, they both end up taking off their shirts and kneeling in front of you, silently begging you to bite them senseless like you did with Simeon. They promise they'll be good boys, way better than Simeon.

Satan's eyes dart everywhere in keen observation - as if trying to recreate in his mind whatever transpired between you and the angel. So he can imagine how it would feel if it was him. He imagines you on top of him, smirking the same way as you are now.

Asmo on the other hand shamelessly asks Simeon for details. How hard do you bite, how soft do your lips feel, how your tongue feel on his skin, what you do with your hands, what you say during - he gets aroused just listening to it.

Beel stands there stunned, cheeks flushed as he has a vague idea of what might have happened. Belphie full on hides his scarlet face in his pillow and groans. They're both about to have some very questionable dreams tonight.

And Simeon? Well he can't stop coming back for more. Even though you both almost got caught, he appears the next night, shirt almost off and his pants unbuttoned. You need to finish what you started.

You smile as he coaxes you back to your bed and on top of his lap. You tut at his impatience - "The door. We didn't lock it."

"Leave it be, please I need you now, MC." He breathes against your lips. You kiss him silly, hearing him whimper through it. You grab his shoulders much to his delight.

"They might see us in the act this time." You warn him. He pulls you closer, burying his head against your chest.

"Let them, I want you too much to care." He lets himself fall, at your whim and mercy. You oblige him and revel in his almost musical moans.

#obey me #obey me smut #obey me simeon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmo #obey me beel #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me belphie

[sailtomarina]

I forbid it

She could feel his stare as she walked across the common room. All their time over the past weeks sneaking around, snogging behind tapestries, feeling one another up and always listening for passerby, and for what? A fleeting high? Self-satisfaction for scratching that itch that was the unobtainable?

Hermione was tired of the secrets. She was tired of the way they pretended and ignored and put up a show for the rest of their classmates, like their feelings mattered more somehow. 

Last night had been the last straw, Malfoy pinning her hips against the bookshelf, his head between her thighs, his tongue deep inside her cunt. She’d whimpered and moaned low in her throat, fighting the sounds threatening to erupt into the silence, and he’d dared to stop, to forbid her from making a sound. It wouldn’t be an issue, now would it, if he’d only allowed her to cast a simple silencio, or even a muffliato? But, no. The git got off on her struggles, smiling into her wet centre and working her into a frenzy she was not permitted to express.

Not fifteen minutes later, he walked past her table like she didn’t even exist, laughing with an arm slung over Daphne Greengrass’ shoulders.

So yes, Hermione was over the indignity of it all. She’d had her fun, same as he, and she now wanted more.

Her steps led her right up to Theodore Nott. His brown eyes, shot through with flecks of moss green, were wide as he looked up at her.

Lovely.

Hermione had actually had her eye on Nott long before her “thing” with Malfoy; what better time than now to make good on what she knew was mutual curiosity?

“Nott.”

She tracked the bob of his Adam’s apple in smug satisfaction, how he shifted in his seat as if slightly uncomfortable. He should be. He had several eyes on him, including a set as mercurial as their owner.

“Did you need something, Granger?”

He could try to keep his voice as smooth and steady as he liked; Hermione could tell he was affected. Malfoy wasn’t the only one who liked to toy with his prey. She, too, found rising pleasure in pinpointing a weakness, a desire, and pressing down onto it like a bruise. She knew Theodore would love nothing more than to be sassed around by a bold witch who routinely challenged the leaderboards and knew her way around a cock.

“Do you mind if I sit?” She kept her tone light, shooting her eyes towards the empty spot on the loveseat next to him. 

There were plenty of other chairs around the 8th year common room, so it was no surprise that Theo glanced around in speculation before landing his eyes back on her with a knowing grin.

“I wouldn’t mind at all.”

Rather than sit down like any normal person would, Hermione chose to kick off both shoes and extend her legs across his lap. He rewarded her boldness with a sharp inhale, hands rising out of the way then hovering uncertain midair.

“I’m good now. You can rest your hands on top if you’d like. I wouldn’t say no to a massage, either.” She ignored the glare from the nearby armchair.

Theo choked out a laugh before settling his hands atop her knee highs. “As the lady commands.” Then he set to work, fingers kneading in circles up and down her calves.

She couldn’t help but luxuriate in the pleasure of a good massage, closing her eyes and humming in appreciation.

“Can you fucking not?” came the sharp rebuke.

She opened one eye to look over at Malfoy where he sat, hands clenched into fists atop his knees..

“Is there a problem?” she asked, still playing the sweet tone. The chuckle next to her told her she wasn’t alone in her enjoyment of their little scene.

“Yeah, there is.” If he contorted his face any further, maybe it’d get stuck that way. “Nobody wants to see that.” 

She obliged him by turning her attention towards Theo’s hands and the way they rose higher up her leg with each sweep of his palms. The two of them shared a look, and she nodded at the questioning tickle of his finger where sock met skin. If she wasn’t enjoying Malfoy’s discomfort so much, she would have been completely distracted by the charming way in which Theodore’s dimples revealed themselves only when his grin stretched past a certain point.

Her socks slid off with his hands in one smooth movement, and this time it was Malfoy who let out a strangled sound that others might misinterpret as shock. Hermione knew better. So did Theo.

“Mmm, that feels much better,” she breathed out, knowing exactly how low and throaty her voice had become. Going off of the hardness on top of which her calves rested, Theo was also affected.

“Shit, Granger,” muttered Theo, hands boldly moving from ankle all the way to thigh with increasing confidence. He leaned closer in her direction with each upward motion. 

They yelped at the crash from Malfoy shoving his foot into the coffee table and sending it flying against the wall.

“Get the fuck up, Hermione.”

She blinked at the figure now only inches away from her, eyes tracing up a fit torso, past a clenched jaw, and landing on the prettiest grey eyes as sharp as obsidian glass. His cologne flooded her senses, sweet oranges and coriander. She craved that smell, wanted it etched into her skin like a signature claim.

“'Hermione' now, is it?”

Oh, he was pissed, eyes flashing like they were, lips curling into a snarl as one hand darted out to wrap around her elbow.

“Oi!” In a flash, Theo was there, having stood up so quickly to grab onto Malfoy’s forearm that Hermione’s legs were tossed helter-skelter to the side.

“Shove off, Theo. This is between Hermione and I.” Malfoy tried to shrug off the hold, but Theo refused to budge.

“Since when is she ‘Hermione’ to you?” Theo scoffed. He glanced down at her and the concern in his kind eyes nearly had her blurting the truth out in one go. “You either ignore her or treat her like shite.”

If the hold on her arm got any tighter, it’d leave visible bruises.

“Let go of her, mate,” he continued to cajole his best friend, pushing more of his body between the two of them. If she wasn’t already completely in love with Malfoy, Hermione could easily see herself falling for Theo.

“I’ll let go when she asks,” Malfoy retorted.

At that, Hermione found herself the focus of both wizards. Theo didn’t say anything, hazel eyes softened in a show of support. Malfoy, on the other hand, wore an expression she’d never seen before.

Was it…desperation? Fear? What could he be afraid of?

“Let go of me, Draco.”

Theo’s eyes sharpened at the name, while the target of her request looked almost stunned dumb. For a moment, she thought he was going to refuse, nails biting into the fabric of her jumper. He let out a long exhale and released her. She spoke again before he could retreat.

“There’s one way you can stop me from leaving.”

So fixated were they on one another, that neither of them acknowledged Theo’s move away from them. It was just him, her, and a vast pool of unspoken desires. This was as far as she was willing to go. If he couldn’t say it, wouldn’t say it, then she’d walk away and never look back.

Her breathing was loud in her ears, and she wondered if it was just as loud to him. One of her curls hung partially in her eyes, tickling her lips with each puff of air. The longer they stared, the less sure she felt. Maybe she’d completely misread him.

It was just as Hermione was tensing her thighs to stand up that he moved.

His hand returned, only this time, it drifted gently towards her face. She froze, entranced at the encroaching brush of skin to skin. Instead, he took her wayward strand and fingered it between dexterous digits.

“I’m a coward, Hermione.” The words were spoken so softly that she thought she might have imagined them. But then he continued. “You deserve much better than me. I’m nothing. No one.”

She made to protest, reassurances bubbling to the surface, but he cut her off. “No, I mean it. Theo is the better wizard, and you’d probably be happier with him, but I can’t, I won’t see him be the one to make you smile. I refuse to let him touch you the way I’ve touched you. You’re mine, but I can’t fucking say it until you claim me as yours first.”

Not once had Hermione ever heard him speak to such lengths in such genuine sincerity, his insecurity and want shining within his gaze as obvious as the sun in the sky and the light on her skin. She felt lifted up on a bubble of euphoria, only this time she wasn’t afraid of her foundation breaking apart and sending her tumbling headfirst to the ground. She rose up and up, her chest filled to bursting with, dare she say it, hope?

“I want you, Draco Malfoy. I, Hermione Granger, want you, and only you.”

The words were said and couldn’t be taken back, not that she ever would. And he, in turn, dropped to his knees to press palms to cheeks, lips to lips, to drink her in like a man on the verge of death. It was all very romantic and dramatic.

“About bloody time.”

Theo’s eyes rolled, but he still smirked at the sight of the daftest people he knew finally coming together like they should have long ago. Maybe in another timeline he would have gleefully played for keeps; Merlin help him, but both of them were fit as fuck and he was always looking for a shag. Still, he didn’t mind the role given to him and had accepted Granger’s proposition before she’d even finished asking. Just as long as she didn’t forget and returned the favour one day–maybe when the two of them were feeling adventurous and interested in a third.

He whistled as he left the room, angling towards the greenhouses and a certain snake slayer due for some deepthroating.

WC 1729

Cross-posted on Tumblr and AO3 (eventually).

Written for DramionePrompts’ daily Twitter prompt: “I forbid it”

 I very nearly wrote this as an actual breakup scene where Hermione goes off with Theo who, bless him, is another favourite of mine. I resisted the urge and stayed true to our duo because I also love a good confession and reunion. Now I can’t stop thinking about Theo x Neville getting it on in the greenhouse…

#harry potter fanfiction #dramione #dhr fanfiction #draco malfoy x hermione granger #hermione granger #draco malfoy #dramione prompt #theo nott

[mrs5sn0w]

Serenade of Shadows

I : A Dance of Shadows -> II : Whisper of Deceit -> III : A Symphony of Heartbreak -> IV : Fractured Reflections -> V : Shadows of allegiance -> VI : Echoes of Descent

Series Masterlist

Young!Coriolanus Snow x Fem!reader

warnings: Arranged marriage, HEAVY ANGST, unrequited love, friends to enemies, enemies to lovers

Reader's surname : Flare

Time frame: Before, during and after tbosbas

Synopsis: In the events of Panem's political dynamics and the 10th annual Hunger Games, Coriolanus Snow and her find themselves entwined. Standing at the brink of an enforced union, 6 years later, their mutual trust unravels amidst a damaging misinterpretation, prompting Coriolanus to believe the wrong. As the glacial barriers guarding his emotions begin to melt, a revelation of profound feelings unfolds, initiating a sprint against time for redemption.

The grand dining hall played host to an elaborate dinner. The Flare family, adorned in Capitol splendor, joined the President of Panem and the first lady at the expansive table, a picture of power and privilege.

Amidst the clinking of fine plates and the soft hum of subdued conversation, Snow's gaze flickered across the table, a calculated assessment of the political alliances forged through familial ties.

The weight of expectation lingered in the air, a silent reminder that transcended the ornate surroundings.

"Coriolanus," His mother in law's voice, a delicate note in the symphony of Capitol conversations, interrupted his silent contemplation.

"Have you considered the importance of ensuring the continuity of your legacy?"

The subtle shift in conversation drew the attention of his wife, when she widened her eyes

"Indeed,the Capitol demands stability, and an offspring is a symbol of the preservation of our ideals." He answered

The ensuing conversation, laden with unspoken tension, unfolded like a choreographed dance of political discourse.

"Coriolanus, a grandchild would be the embodiment of our shared commitment to Panem's prosperity," Mr. Flare asserted, his words carrying the weight of familial expectations.

Snow, the embodiment of Capitol ideals, maintained a composed facade, his responses a careful navigation of the intricate web of political alliances.

"I understand the significance of the matter, and believe me, the continuation of our legacy is a priority." He smiled assuringly

The exchange of pleasantries and the strategic alliances formed in the dining hall masked the underlying tensions that festered beneath the surface.

As the night wore on, Snow and herself found themselves alone on the balcony once again, a sanctuary from the prying eyes of familial expectations.

The gilded stars overhead bore witness to a conversation that would shape the trajectory of their union.

"Coriolanus," she began, her voice a whisper against the backdrop of Capitol revelry,

"There's more to our lives than political alliances and familial expectations. I can't help but feel that we're drowning in a sea of obligations."

Snow, ever the stoic embodiment of Capitol authority, regarded her with a gaze that betrayed a flicker of vulnerability.

"Do you mean the baby ?"

"Look, our roles demand sacrifices. We must bear the weight of expectation" He continued

"But at what cost?" Her words hung in the air, a question that echoed through the hallowed halls of power.

"A child should not be a pawn in this elaborate game. Their existence should be more than a strategic move-"

"what I'm trying to say is that I don't want to have a child when his or her parents don't even love each other"

Snow responded with a controlled conviction.

"Our duty to Panem go beyond personal desires. Sacrifices are permanently needed in positions of power, and an heir ensures the continuation of our legacy."

The balcony, a stage for a silent confrontation of ideologies, bore witness to a struggle that transcended the grandeur of Capitol expectations. The first lady, torn between duty and personal convictions, sought a connection that defied the political facades.

"Coriolanus, is our marriage just a performance ? Are we condemned to a life of obligations, lacking of genuine connection?" Her words, a plea for authenticity, hung in the air.

Snow, grappling with the echoes of her doubts, responded with a tone that held no room for compromise.

"Our union is a symbol of stability, and personal sentiments must not jeopardize the balance we've established."

The night, draped in the shimmering tapestry of Capitol extravagance, witnessed a moment of profound discord within their shared existence. The balcony, a silent witness to the complexities of their union, stood as a testament to the sacrifices demanded by power.

The question hung in the air, loaded with the weight of unspoken expectations and conflicting desires.

“So, you want to have the baby?”

“I don’t want to. Not with you- but I must” his response carried a solemn gravity, his gaze directed downward, as if seeking refuge in the cold embrace of the balcony railing, an obstinate refusal to confront her.

Speech evaded her in that moment. His words, though not unexpected, bore the weight of an inevitability she had chosen to accept.

This was the determined path of her existence, a life shaped by the ideology of Capitol politics.

Her heart hissed with an indescribable ache, but she scoffed

“You must ?"

"You’re not the one carrying the weight of a life within you for nine months. I have a right to a say in this, and I say no.”

Her retort, though measured, bore the invincible spirit of resistance. The air crackled with the tension of opposing wills.

With that defiance lingering, she withdrew from the balcony, leaving behind an air heavy with unspoken grievances. The lingering echoes of their unresolved conflict reverberated through the night, painting the silence with the brushstrokes of discontent.

Days turned into weeks, and the looming specter of the 16th Hunger Games approached.

The Capitol, with its insatiable appetite for spectacle, prepared for another iteration of the gruesome tradition. Amidst the preparations, she found herself entangled in an afternoon tea party with the wives of powerful men, an event that would unveil a secret world of Capitol vices.

The air in the lavish tea room was filled with the delicate fragrance of brewed chamomile, and the soft clinking of porcelain echoed through the opulent space.

The First Lady, adorned in Capitol elegance, gracefully mingled with the wives of powerful men, each of them putting on a facade of refinement. She smiled, greeting them

“Ladies, isn't the selection of teas exquisite today?”

Mrs Creed, the wife of Mr Creed who was considered old capitol money as he made his fortune mostly from Timber within district 7 answered her

“absolutely dear, they Capitol always knows how to indulge our senses.

Another wife of a powerful man, Mrs Heavensbee, who is married to Mr Heavensbee, who helped funding the reconstruction of Heavensbee Hall chimed to the first lady

"Indeed. It's a break from the usual hustle."

Mrs Crane, a distant relative of the late Arachne Crane and the wife of a senior game maker confided in a hushed tone,

"You know, ladies, I've found the most thrilling way to make our privileged lives less boring."

The first lady smirked under her breath, intrigued she answered

"Oh? Do share, Mrs. Crane"

Mrs Crane leaned in and whispered

"My Husband and I have been selling information about this year's Hunger Games to the districts. It's quite the profitable business, I must say."

A collective gasp swept through the tea room, but Mrs Snow, a master at masking her true emotions, maintained her composure. The revelation hung in the air, a breach of Capitol decorum that threatened to shatter their carefully crafted illusions.

"Mrs Crane, you can't be serious!" Mrs Creed said

Mrs Heavensbee whispered to the ear of the first lady

"Did you hear that? Selling information about the Games?"

With her purposely shocked feigning shocked expression, Mrs Snow replied to the woman who had just revealed her secret

"My, this is quite unexpected. Mrs. Crane, are you aware of the consequences of such... actions ?"

Mrs. Crane smirked and gently touched Mrs. Snow's hand, "Oh, my dear, power isn't just about what you have; it's about what you know. And I know quite a bit." Yet, she felt uncomfortable with the contact.

"And you won't tell your dear husband about this, will you? Seeing that it's only a marriage of convenience as well. He doesn't love you, does he?"

The words hung in the air as a collective gasp swept through the room, and even Mrs Snow couldn't conceal her shock when Mrs. Crane uttered those offensive words.

The atmosphere shifted, and a fiery rage ignited within her, a desire to retaliate against the venomous insinuations.

The tension in the room thickened as the wives grappled with the implications of Mrs. Crane's revelation. The First Lady, however, saw this as an opportunity to play a dangerous game of her own.

She maintained a composed facade despite the storm of emotions within, responded to Mrs. Crane with a subtle smile that masked her inner turmoil.

"Oh, Mrs. Crane, your insights are truly intriguing," she remarked, her voice carrying a calculated charm.

"But you see, secrets are like delicate flowers. They bloom in the shadows, and revealing them too soon might wither their beauty."

As Mrs. Crane smirked, believing she had the upper hand, the first lady continued her deceptive play.

"As for my husband, it's good to let curiosity stay alive, don't you think? I wouldn't want to end the interest too soon. After all, a convenient marriage can be interesting too."

The words were carefully chosen, each sentence a thread in the intricate tapestry of her deception. While Mrs. Crane reveled in what she perceived as victory, the first lady harbored a secret plan to disclose the truth to Coriolanus Snow at a more opportune moment despite their rocky relationship.

The tea party, once an arena of veiled conversations, transformed into a battleground of strategic maneuvers, and she played her part with a masterful finesse.

The ambiance in the grand study of the Presidential Mansion was steeped in the warm glow of late evening. As Coriolanus Snow occupied himself with the affairs of the Capitol, she made a determined entrance, her eyes ablaze with an intensity that demanded attention.

"Coriolanus, we need to talk," she declared, her voice cutting through the otherwise still air.

Looking up from his desk, Snow responded with a dismissive air,

"What could be so important?"

Her gaze bore into him, a storm brewing within her. "Mrs. Crane revealed something today, something that affects us."

Raising an eyebrow in skepticism, Snow retorted,

"Mrs. Crane? What nonsense are you talking about?"

With a sharp tone, she revealed

"Tea parties aren't just for pleasantries. Secrets spill in the presence of satisfaction."

Unconvinced, Snow urged her to get to the point. A cunning smile played on her lips as she disclosed

"She and her husband have been selling information about the Hunger Games to the districts."

"Why would they do that?" Snow questioned, his disbelief evident.

"Power, influence, money," she replied, the coldness in her tone underscoring the gravity of the situation.

"Capitol vices that run deeper than we imagine."

Brushing it off, He asked, "And how does it affect us?"

A flash of fury crossed her features.

"She questioned our marriage, Coriolanus. Doubted your love for me."

Snow, in a dismissive laugh, attributed it to jealousy. However, she remained resolute.

"That's not the point. We need to address this."

Sarcastically, Snow queried, "What do you suggest?"

A cunning smile returned to her face.

"Expose them, let the Capitol see that even in our so-called convenient marriage, we are a force to be reckoned with."

she paced around the room, then continued

"You need to get someone to dig more into this, If i may, I will modify the game, I have a few ideas in mind and never have I thought in my whole life I'd say this, nor do I want to, but they must be eliminated"

The gravity of her words hung in the air, creating an unsettling atmosphere. Snow, while accustomed to manipulation and power plays, felt a momentary shock at the transformation in her.

Her determination to take control and eliminate threats mirrored a darkness that echoed his own. In that moment, a chilling realization dawned on him — he didn’t want her to descend into the depths of cruelty as he had.

The intricate dance of power within their relationship took an unexpected turn, leaving Snow to grapple with the weight of the monster he might have inadvertently influenced.

Taglist : @randomgurl2326 @princessloveweird @rosewine-5 @cookielovesbook-akie @qoopeeya @corpsebridenightmare @bl0ndelilac @unclecrunkle @puredreamagination @lofhdfn

#coriolanus fanfiction #coriolanus imagine #coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow angst #coriolanus snow fanfic #coriolanus snow fanfiction #coriolanus snow fic #coriolanus x oc #coriolanus x reader #angst #tbosbas fic #tbosas x you #tbosbas imagine #tbosas fanfiction #tbosas x reader #tbosbas #thg fanfiction #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #mrsssnow fics

[tainbocuailnge]

Hello, I hope it's ok I'm sending this ask but you've written some amazing posts and explanations about Cú Alter and Medb and I was wondering if you also did their valentine's scenes? Have a great day and Happy Valentine's Day 💕

i don't think i've ever talked about their valentines gift scenes specifically. they're pretty straightforward displays of their particular styles of responsibility and diligence.

medb takes love very seriously both as a tool of control and as her genuine true heart's desire so her gifts as both rider and saber are extremely high quality to the point where it seems storebought (handmade chocolate is seen as more genuine than storebought) and she calls every chocolate she hands out her true love chocolate (as opposed to obligation chocolate, the gift you only hand out because there's a societal expectation for women to give valentines gifts to all their classmates and colleagues), because she has complexes and both intentionally and unintentionally smudges the lines on how genuine her displays of affection are so that she can maintain plausible deniability on whether she showed vulnerability or not. but while most people would aim for this plausible deniability by making medium effort obligation choco that could mean nothing she instead makes everything a display of true love because love is deeply important to her.

she wants the excitement of confessing her true love, and she wants the control you have over someone who is in love with you, and she wants the safety of people not knowing her true feelings and thus not having that control over her in turn. she's assertive and a bit fussy and when she decides to do something she always makes sure to do it well, and the result is beautiful professional quality handmade chocolate, but in her saber scene when she decides she wants to be the one who is pursued for a change she kinda fumbles it because even though she's assertive and prides herself on "taking whatever she wants" she has a hard time asking for what she really wants (close relationship as equals with someone she loves), because of the complexes.

cu alter meanwhile is clearly uncomfortable with displays of affection both because of medb's specific style of affection-as-control and because he just thinks of himself as a weapon rather than a person and gets really annoyed when guda doesn't share that view. he brusquely dismisses any attempt to treat him like a person but also has a way too strong sense of duty, so even though he doesn't want guda's gift and says he's just gonna throw it out later he still has to arrange a return gift, it's the obvious thing to do. there's a disconnect between what he says and what he does for basically everything he does because he's torturing himself by thinking he doesn't get the luxury of being the same he's always been even though he's still just the same he's always been. he's obviously not actually gonna throw out that chocolate.

mini cu-chan debuted in the prillya event that ran before male valentines scenes got added and i think they made that the gift just because they couldn't really think of something he would give lol. there's various possible explanations for why the description says medb doesn't recognise it, maybe it's the usual event amnesia handwave, maybe she's lying because she thinks she posted cringe in the prillya singularity. i don't think cu alter is lying about it just showing up in his room one day because he tends to lie about his opinions (to himself most of all) but not about facts. i do like that even though he says you can throw it out for all he cares he obviously did not do that himself, because his sense of duty is way too strong and he takes care of his own as the obvious thing to do even if it pisses him off.

its a fun little contrast between the two of them, medb is very verbally affectionate but struggles to actually unambiguously display affection for a myriad complicated reasons while cu alter grumbles and complains but through his actions is always clearly on your side. but they're both very reliable and diligent, if you need medb for something she will absolutely pull through for you and this very sincere diligence of hers is exactly what she's trying to obfuscate with her elaborate ambiguous affection so that it can't be taken advantage of while cu doesn't really care if he's being taken advantage of because he's gonna do it anyway and that's what frustrates her so fucking much about him that she had to make a version of him that will at least loudly complain about it.

#wearingmidnight #king of asks #metapost #hound of the irish #all dressed up and nakey #ugh my medb tag probably hasnt seen anything new in over a year WHERE is the medb fanart on my dash

[whatacaitastrophe]

Is It Over Now - Chapter 3

Previous Chapter

Chapter Song Inspiration: "Young God" - Halsey

Chapter Warnings: Oral Sex, PiV Sex

Spotify Playlist: Here

Chapter Notes: i promise not every chapter starts with a flashback, and i wasn't planning on writing any of this from gale's POV, but he was like hey this is my story, too!!!

Chapter 3: Baby Girl, We're Gonna Be Legends

”I hope that wasn’t a goodbye kiss.” Fallon gently teases Gale with a pleading look in her eyes. He smiles back at her. “Not if I have anything to say about it.”

Gale stands up and extends Fallon his hand. “I want it to be perfect - to bond with you in the way the gods do…intertwining our spirits in visions of the Weave.” 

Fallon takes his hand and stands to face him, chewing on her lip. “I don’t need illusions. I want the Gale in front of me.” 

“Are you sure? I could conjure up anything you desire, and a few you could not. I could use The Weave to make us feel sensations beyond reckoning. I could not only woo you, I could wow you.”

“I want the real Gale - the man, not the fantasy.” 

“The old ways, then. If that is what you wish, so be it. A gesture for your comfort.” 

A four poster bed magically appears in the middle of the forest Gale has conjured, and Fallon falls back on the mattress, beckoning Gale to come closer. He obliges, approaching the foot of the bed and crawling up the mattress until he is on top of her. Fallon cups his face in her hands, and Gale is in awe. There are so many things he wants to say to her, but most of all, he wants to kiss her again. Their second kiss is far less chaste than the first, all heat and passion, like this could be the last chance they get. In their defense, it could be. Even before Mystra delivered her marching orders to Gale, every moment could have been their last. 

Gale leans forward and buries his face in Fallon’s neck, drinking in the smell of her, the taste of her skin on his tongue. The breathy moan she lets out goes straight to his cock, and he can’t help but smirk against her skin. It’s been a long time since Gale has been with someone like this. Not just in general, but without The Weave manipulating their bodies and surroundings into fantasies. Gale’s mouth begins to travel, peppering kisses across Fallon’s skin from her shoulders to the exposed skin of her chest and torso. Though he often teased Fallon for her need to loot every dead body they came across, he sure is glad that she took the time to steal her current wardrobe off of Minthara’s corpse. 

It was sinful, with the bodice accentuating her chest, and the tight leather hugging the curves of her hips and ass. Gale would be a liar if he said he hasn’t imagined slowly taking that outfit off of Fallon since the very moment she put it on, and not just because the way Astarion and Halsin stared at her body when they made camp makes Gale jealous. Gale’s hands make swift work of untying the laces on the very front of the bodice. 

“Undress for me, my love.” Gale requests, pushing himself off of Fallon just enough for her to move out from under his body and stand. Just as he’d hoped, Fallon makes a show of it all, and Gale struggles between looking back into her eyes, meeting her intense eye contact, and watching the fabric slowly fall away from her body until it’s pooled at her feet in the grass. 

For a moment, Gale is speechless as Fallon stands there. Everything about her is as perfect as Gale had imagined it would be. “You are,” he breathes. “Without question, the most exquisitely beautiful woman I have ever had the great pleasure of laying my eyes on.”

The moon is so bright that Gale can see her cream colored skin become a rosier hue when he compliments her, and Fallon laughs softly, averting her eyes. “Well, I’m no goddess.” She counters and Gale is off of the mattress and standing in front of Fallon again with a speed he didn’t know he was capable of. 

“Fallon, I need you to hear me when I say that every goddess, even Mystra, pales in comparison to the beauty standing in front of me right now.” His hands settle on her hips and he tugs her a little closer to him. “I wish you could see what I see, because standing here in the moonlight, you are absolutely radiant, and your beauty goes so far beyond your physical form.” 

Gale kisses sweetly. “You have a good heart, Fallon, and that is something that not many beautiful people can also claim. In the short time that I’ve known you, I’ve witnessed you countlessly run head first into situations that could get you killed, all because someone who couldn’t defend themselves needed your help. I’ve seen you weep when you can’t save everyone, and for innocent creatures and people who were already dead when we arrived. I see how much you care for myself and our companions every single day. It would be easy for you to keep us all at arms length and choose not to give a damn about who we are, but you do. It’s not just your physical beauty that makes you incredibly beautiful, but also your empathy for others. Your humanity.” 

“You’re just saying that.” She responds softly, averting her gaze from his again. Knowing what Gale has come to know about Fallon, her reaction is unsurprising, and it breaks Gale’s heart that she doesn’t see what he sees. He sighs sympathetically. 

“If my words aren’t enough, allow me to show you how beautiful I think you are. Allow me to prove to you how much you deserve to be adored. To be worshiped.” 

He doesn’t give her a chance to respond before pulling her close so her body is flush with his and kissing her deeply. He guides Fallon back to the bed he conjured as their tongues intertwine, and when her body stops moving, Gall pulls away so he can gently push her backwards onto the mattress again. There is no pomp or circumstance as he removes his own clothes, and his still-hard cock springs gratefully from the confines of the fabric that was previously holding it back. Not that Gale is in any sort of hurry to bury himself inside of her. No, he plans to make this last, to take his time, because it could very well be the last time.

Gale is not the only person in awe of the other, it seems. “How the fuck are you real?” She asks in disbelief, taking in his naked form. Gale does nothing but smirk at her in response and walks back towards her, crawling onto the mattress after her as she moves back so the upper half of her body is partly leaning against the headboard. Their mouths connect again with heated passion, and all Gale wants to do is touch every part of her skin that he possibly can. He needs to hear her moan again like she did the first time when his mouth was on her neck. No, he needs more than that, and he will not be satisfied until the woman below him is crying out in ecstasy. 

It’s likely that Gale could just lay there kissing her until the sun comes up, but he has other plans that involve his mouth elsewhere. His mouth slowly starts exploring the rest of her skin as he begins his descent down her body. Gale comes face to face with her breasts, and he closes his mouth over one and gently massages the other with his hand. “You know, not everyone is blessed with perfect breasts but my gods it’s like you were sculpted by the universe,” he lowers his mouth to her breast again and nips gently and her nipple. The sound that comes out of Fallon’s mouth is breathy, and Gale desperately needs to hear it again. “Every time you wear that gods-forsaken outfit you nicked off of Minthara, I imagine what it would be like to have my head right here, in this spot.” 

Gale switches sides so Fallon’s other perfect breast receives attention from his mouth. Fallon makes the same sound as before and Gale’s heart sings. Slowly, Gale continues peppering soft kisses and gentle love bites down her torso, until his mouth is hovering over the apex of her thighs. He uses his hands to spread her legs further apart, ignoring her sex for now so he can give her thighs the attention they deserve. “And these,” Gale plants kiss on her inner thigh, and then the other, and Fallon whimpers. “I’ve spent many a night imagining my head between these strong beautiful legs, with my hands holding them in place.”

Gale takes a moment to look up at Fallon when she whimpers again, and he can’t help but offer her a sly smile when he takes in the pleading look on her face. His mouth works its way back up to the apex of her thighs, and he plants one single kiss just above her sex. “And here?” Gale releases her legs with his right hand so he can run his thumb over her already slick folds, still avoiding the spot her desperate moan reveals she’d like him to be most. “Well, I’ve imagined what it would be like to bury my face in your cunt and taste you since the day we met.”

Gale doesn’t make her wait any longer before he lowers his mouth to her clit and sucks on it, swirling his tongue across it in slow circles. Fallon gasps. He can feel her body shift so her back is arched and the reaction his movements with his tongue illicit only spur him forward. Gale once joked with Fallon that he had a practiced tongue, and now that he has her, he’s determined to show her exactly what he meant. The smell of her, the taste of her, it’s all intoxicating and Gale laps at her clit like a dehydrated man just offered water for the first time in a millennia. He’s so in love with this woman, it’s stupid, and if he dies tomorrow, and the sound of her name on his lips is one of the last things he hears, then Gale will die a happy man. 

Gale adjusts his body just enough so he can slip two practiced fingers inside of her, pumping them in and out of her slowly, deeply, and he relishes in the way Fallon pushes her hips forward, begging him for more. Gale is all too happy to oblige and he picks up the speed of his fingers inside of her until her legs are shaking and her moans are leaving her mouth in quick succession. It’s not until then that he comes up for air and he looks Fallon in the eyes as his fingers continue to move. “My gods, you are beautiful. I love watching you fall apart like this. Are you going to come for me, my love?” Fallon is gripping the sheets with her hands and she nods desperately. 

“Please, Gale, I’m so close.” she begs and Gale gets lightheaded. Of all the things he’d expected this evening, he wasn’t sure Fallon begging was even on the list. Crying out his name in pleasure, surely, but begging? It’s almost enough to turn him back into an inexperienced teenager who might come simply from a stiff breeze hitting his cock right. “With pleasure.” he answers, his voice rough with desire. Gale dives back in, devouring Fallon with determination to coax her orgasm from her body. 

He doesn’t have to wait very long, and soon Fallon erupts with a sharp cry. Her entire body shakes as she moans his name. Much to his pleasure, she’s loud enough that it’s unlikely their companions back at camp didn’t hear her. Good. Maybe Halsin and Astarion will back the hells off with their staring and flirty comments now that Gale has claimed her. Fallon is his, and Gale Dekarios doesn’t share. Gale keeps his mouth on her as she rides out her high, only lifting his head when her body stills. He’s sure his mouth and scruffy beard are glistening with her orgasm, but Gale doesn’t care enough to wipe his mouth across his arm before climbing up the bed to capture Fallon’s mouth again. 

A shiver runs down his spine as Fallon’s hands begin to explore his body. Her nails and fingertips scrape against his torso roughly, and don’t waste much time roaming further down to his stiff cock, and Gale’s hips stutter against his will as her warm hand wraps around him. Fallon’s free hand presses against Gale’s chest and she pulls back from their kiss. “Let me return the favor. Please.” 

There’s that word again. Please. The desperation in her voice makes Gale moan, like she needs this as badly as he does. His mouth connects with the skin of her neck, and he bites down; maybe not as gently as he could have, but his ego needs to claim her right over the two puncture marks where Astarion drank from every couple of days. “Well, who am I to deny you?” He mutters, and he allows her to push him back so his back is flat against the mattress.

Fallon swings her legs across his thighs, and Gale decides right then and there that when the time comes, he needs her on top, riding his cock. Fallon moves down Gale’s body quicker than he’d done, but she does stop to press soft, long kisses on the span of his neck and chest covered by the orb, almost like she’s offering her mouth and kisses up to the Netherese orb as an offering to not take Gale away from her. She spreads his legs slightly to settle between them, and there is no teasing or anticipation. Fallon wraps her mouth around Gale’s cock and immediately begins to move her mouth along his shaft, and he bites back a loud moan at the feeling of the wet heat surrounding his cock. 

The way Fallon sucks his cock is absolutely filthy. It’s wet and messy, a mixture of her saliva and his pre-come coat his shaft and her hand at the base of it, pumping him dutifully where her mouth cannot reach. If Gale knew who taught her how to suck cock like this, he’d send them flowers. “Fallon,” Gale breathes heavily after what couldn’t have been longer than a few minutes. The fact that it’s been a while for Gale is truly showing now, but he’s too turned on to be embarrassed. “Not to look a gifthorse in the mouth, but if you don’t stop I’m afraid I’m not going to make it much longer, and I would very much like to fuck you, lest I not get another chance.” 

Her moan, only muted by his cock in her mouth, is guttural and the way it vibrates around him nearly sends Gale over the edge, but Fallon lifts her head with a pop. There’s a wild look in her eyes as she begins to remove herself from the position she’s in, but Gale reaches out to stop her, gripping her hips. “If I’m to die tomorrow, let the one of the last visions I think about when I go be your perfect body riding me with reckless abandon until we both forget our names. Please.” 

Fallon stares at him for a moment, slack-jawed and glossy-eyed. “Sorry, I think I just almost passed out,” she laughs. “That just might be the hottest thing anyone has ever said to me.” Gale’s laugh is low, and strokes her outer thighs with his hands. “Well then I shall endeavor to not die tomorrow so your brain short-circuits more often.” His words are playful, like he is still considering blowing himself up when they face Ketheric, but truthfully? The truth is that Gale decided against sacrificing himself the moment Fallon told him she loves him back. 

With patience Gale isn’t sure he would have been able to exude at this moment, Fallon climbs back up his body and positions herself above his hip. She aligns him with her center and slowly sinks down on his cock. They moan in unison as he fills her. Fallon sits still a beat too long, and Gale makes a face at her. He’s patience is spent, and Gale is no longer in the mood for teasing. “Fallon, please.” He does not have to ask her twice, and the gorgeous woman above him begins to ride him; slowly at first, but eventually her pace becomes as desperate as Gale feels, and the string of moans exiting her body are endless. She holds herself steady with hands on his chest as she bounces on his cock, and when she lifts one hand to run her fingers through her hair, Gale almost loses it. “You are the absolute picture of perfection. You feel perfect. If I could paint this moment, I would. Hells, Fallon.” Gale moans, and Fallon responds in kind, digging her nails into his chest, leaving little crescent moons on his skin.

Gale can feel his climax careening to the finish line, and he wants to be as close to her as possible. He sits up, adjusting their position so she is sitting in his lap comfortably with one arm wrapped around her back, and his fingers are tangled in her hair. He slips his other hand between them and caresses her clit dutifully until Fallon’s body begins to shake again. 

Gale and Fallon peak in unison, their bodies shuddering in time as they both moan each other’s names loudly, gasping for air between passionate kisses. Fallon rides him until they’re both completely spent, and it’s only then that Gale leans back again, taking Fallon with him and gently lifting her off of his lap. He maneuvers her body so she’s laying on the bed next to him. Their kisses become slower, gentler, and eventually Gale pulls back to kiss her forehead. 

Yes, if he dies tomorrow (by his own hand or someone else’s), this night is what he’ll picture in his final moments.

The memory fades and reality returns. He looks down at his spent cock and semen covered hand, almost in disappointment. Despite his best efforts, there is still an emptiness in his chest that only filled for as long as the memory lasted. Gale gingerly gets out of his bed and walks to the toilets to clean himself off. He stops long enough to look at his reflection in the mirror. A god stares back at him, but his expression is not the one someone would expect of a human who’d been given exactly what he asked for. His quest, his entire ordeal to become a god, was one giant test from Mystra herself. Would he learn from his mistakes, and hand over The Crown of Karsus to her? Or would he repeat history? 

As it turns out, the answer to both questions was “yes.” In a moment of clarity when face to face with Mystra, Gale realized there was a chance he could have both Godhood and Mystra’s favor. So he struck a bargain. Gale of Waterdeep got what he wanted, but in the end it came with a great cost. A greater cost than he could have ever imagined, but he’d been too hungry for the power. Gale sighs heavily and slowly exits the bathroom, heading for his study. There’s no way he’s going back to sleep now, so he might as well get some reading in. 

Only, he’s not alone for long. Gale senses her before he feels her arms wrapping around him from behind, or her mouth against her neck. “You’re up early.” She says softly. 

“I couldn’t sleep.” It’s not entirely a lie, but it’s not entirely true either. She presses her mouth to his neck again. “You should come back to bed then. Perhaps I can wear you out.”

Gale closes his eyes and takes a slow breath. He should have seen this coming. He should have thought of a better excuse, but even now the feeling of her mouth on his neck and her arms wrapped around him stirs something inside of Gale, even if he doesn’t want it to. 

When Gale opens his eyes, he’s mentally no longer himself. He’s a former version of Gale of Waterdeep, one who didn’t know any better, who didn’t know what it was like to experience true, unrequited love. The version that was wholly and unequivocally in love with the goddess beckoning him to her bed, not the one whose heart was torn in two.

Gale rises from his chair and turns to face the goddess, his goddess, and wraps her arms around her waist. Mystra kisses him deeply. “Make love to me, Gale of Waterdeep.” She murmurs against his lips.  

It’s almost as if she knows. Gale pulls away from her kiss and plasters a loving smile on his face. “With pleasure.”

Chapter List

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 fanfic #female tav #gale dekarios #gale x tav #gale of waterdeep #gale fanfic #baldurs gate 3 smut #baldurs gate 3 fanfiction #gale smut #gale dekarios smut

[erin-bo-berin]

Probably when she finds out 💜💜

Gotcha! Steve has a little secret…or two 😏

Steve’s Secret

Steve Harrington x Reader

Warnings: Pregnancy, Mentions of Sex (no actual smut though)

Based on this request ☺️

Why did peeing on a stick have to be such a monumental moment? Or better yet, why did that have to determine if a woman was pregnant or not? It was a hassle, plus kinda gross when you thought about it. But, here you were, at the point it had become necessary.

You weren’t someone who typically had an active sex life. There had been a few men here and there, but you’d been in relationships with them and protection was always key. You’d been on birth control for a while until you’d broken up with your ex. Since you had no desire to entertain the opposite sex, you’d gone off the pill, having been struggling with the side effects of it anyways.

Then Steve Harrington with all his charm had walked into your life and you ended up in situations you usually never would’ve. For instance, having a one night stand. But, you couldn’t help it. From the moment your gaze had met his across the bar you’d met at, you were as good as hooked. Maybe it had been lust at first sight but you’d wanted him.

He was all searing dark eyes, gorgeous smile and brown hair that seemed to be perfectly swooped; you couldn’t tell if it was naturally that great or if he fixed it that way. His eyes glimmered as they raked over your body, taking you in, the beer bottle coming up to his lips. They were a soft pink shade that enticed you as you imagined what it would be like to kiss them.

All that lead to one stupid moment when desire zapped all rational thought in your mind. He was halfway inside of you before you remembered the condom and you made him don one before you did anything too stupid. Little did you know, that said stupidity had already happened.

“Leave it to my body to get pregnant by fucking pre-cum,” you moaned, when you saw the two lines on the pregnancy test.

The one time you have a one night stand, wanting no strings attached, you end up pregnant. Those strings are rooted in place for good, now.

When you told Steve, it wasn’t dramatic. You simply called him, asked him if he could meet up and the next thing you knew, he was sitting on your couch while you stood above him and changed his world forever.

“So…you’re pregnant?”

He wasn’t mad, he wasn’t upset, he just seemed…shocked, dazed even. You’re pretty sure you looked like a deer in headlights when you’d seen the test yourself, but he was taking it even better than you.

“Don’t worry though, you don’t have to stick around if you don’t want to. I just thought I should tell you since you have the right to know. I mean we hardly know each oth-”

“No.”

The abrupt syllable made you pause your nervous rambling.

“No, what?

“No, I’m not letting you do this alone,” he said firmly.

You had expected almost every outcome but this one. You guess you had a lot lower expectations for him than he deserved and the thought made you wince.

“Please don’t feel like you’re obligated to,” you sighed, “I’m just a random girl. We’re practically strangers, Steve.”

He shrugged.

“So then we get to know one another. Like I said, I’m here to help you with whatever you need. Oh, wait. I should probably ask you what you’re going to do.”

“I don’t know yet,” you admitted, “But I won’t do anything without letting you know, okay?”

He nodded, falling silent.

You honestly hoped things would get better between you two if you did decide to keep this baby because he’d be in your life forever.

You also hoped you knew what the right decision was because right now, you were terrified.

•

Steve impressed you more and more every day.

The amount of research he’d done, trying to learn as much as he could to help you out was incredibly sweet. Between the day you’d first told him about the pregnancy and now, about three weeks later, you’d come to the decision that you wanted to keep this baby.

He’d never say it out loud, but you could tell he was relieved.

True to his word, you two slowly got to know each other and he sheepishly admitted—as if embarrassed by his dream—that he’d wanted kids for a long time actually, a big family even. Of course, he didn’t expect it this early, but he wasn’t mad in the least.

He was as nervous and scared as you were, but his support never wavered.

He bought books about pregnancy and parenthood, then proceeded to spend hours poring over them. He learned where the baby was at developmentally, what you should expect with the changes in your body, what was the best things to eat for the baby—and that was just a few of the long list of things he learned.

He also took care of you, just like he said he would. You had no idea he meant to this extent though.

He was there with crackers and ginger ale for your morning sickness, making sure you took naps if you got overtired and checking to make sure you took your prenatal vitamins. One would think the hovering would be annoying, but it surprised you how much you grew to like it. No one had ever taken such good care of you as Steve had been and it was nice for a change.

That’s when your emotions had to make things messy.

All the sweet gestures, the undivided attention, the drop what he’s doing and run to your aid with just a phone call moments were confusing your brain. He was so sweet to you, so good to you and happy to treat you like a gentleman would. But, you were slowly falling for him.

You could not have that.

The only reason you were getting this attention in the first place was because you were carrying his child; you constantly had to remind yourself of that fact. You’d hooked up with him once and now you were both in this situation, you couldn’t afford to have feelings for Steve.

But damn, if he didn’t make it hard.

“How are you feeling today?” he asked when he walked in your house earlier, hands loaded with grocery bags.

“What in the world is all this?” you asked, watching, amused.

“You gotta eat,” he shrugged, smiling.

“I’m eating for two people now, not twenty,” you replied dryly.

“Just making sure you and baby are taken care of,” he replied nonchalantly, unpacking the groceries in the kitchen, calling out to you.

You were nearing your second trimester and you’d yet to tell anyone yet, it just made it too real. You had grown to enjoy having this little secret for a little while, but you weren’t quite ready to share yet.

“Steve?” you worried your bottom lip, “Have you told anyone yet…about this?”

You motioned to the general area of your stomach, although it wasn’t necessary, since he clearly knew what you meant.

He came in the room, finished with the groceries and sat on the arm of your couch.

“No, have you?”

You shook your head. Your parents lived out of town and it would be a simple phone call, but other than them, you didn’t really have anyone to tell. Even then, you were hesitant to share the news. You’d been stuck in a limbo of disbelief and awe since you first discovered you were pregnant and a part of you still didn’t quite believe it was reality. You had been sitting on this secret for almost two months now.

But then, a horrible thought occurred to you.

“Have you not told anyone because you’re ashamed of me and this baby?”

Your face warmed and you prayed he didn’t notice the humiliation that was surely written all over your face. You would be ashamed of yourself too, if you were him.

“What?” he looked aghast as he slid off the arm of the couch to next to you on the cushion, “Of course not.”

His emphasis on the last part of his answer relieved the panic in your chest a bit and you sighed a breath of relief. His hands cradled your face, making you look him in the eyes. For all the care and support he’d been giving you, this was the first time he’d touched you—in an intimate nature—since the night of conception.

His gaze was piercing, his eyes searching your face, trying to convey just how serious he was.

“I haven’t told anyone yet because I wanted to make sure you and the baby are okay,” he said.

Your brows pulled inward, a tad confused. You both seemed alright, so you weren’t exactly sure what he meant.

“Many of the pregnancy books I’ve read said that usually after the first trimester, the chances of a miscarriage are a lot lower than in the first three months.”

Your chest ached again, the thought of losing this precious baby that you had quickly grown attached to, causing you such a sharp stab of pain.

“But,” he continued, “I won’t tell anyone until you want me to, okay?”

You nodded, heart warm with how caring he was. You noticed his hesitation as his eyes dipped lower to your mouth and against your better judgement, you found yourself wishing he would kiss you.

But, he didn’t. He kissed your forehead gently before dropping his hands from your face and proceeding to ask you what you’d like him to make for dinner.

He was way too good for you and you didn’t deserve him. You planned to put a stop to this childish crush and butterflies in your stomach before it was too late.

•

Steve knew his friends were getting steadily more suspicious.

They knew he was acting weird, hiding something. He couldn’t always commit to plans, rambling off an excuse that he had to do something else or disappearing for days at a time.

It was getting harder to hide you and the baby.

Not that he was intentionally doing it, but for a time, it had been nice to share the little secret of the baby with you. He knew he was screwed though because his friends would see right through him. You weren’t just the mother of his child, you were someone he had fallen head over heels for.

In fact, he had felt a spark of something the moment he first laid eyes on you at that bar. He had never told you though because that sounded crazy, even to him and he was sure it would freak you out. After all, you had enough on your plate just from carrying a baby.

Another month had passed and now you were due for the anatomy scan, which he was meeting you at. He was dying to find out what it was, while you wanted it to be a surprise. You two still hadn’t made a decision about it yet.

Now, he sat next to you in the exam room. He felt bad for you as you were dying for the bathroom—the one downside of having an ultrasound, your bladder had to be full.

“If I pee all over myself, this is your fault,” she grumbled, though good-naturedly.

“How is it my fault?” he asked, exasperated.

“Because your dick was too tempting and now I’m pregnant.”

There was a cough and a wheeze from the ultrasound technician as she tried to smother her laugh with her hand. Steve still saw the amused smile on her lips from the side view he had of her. He gave you an even more exasperated look in which you just gave an amused smirk and a shrug.

The mother of his child, everyone.

“So, mommy, daddy. Have we decided if we want to know the sex of the baby?”

“Yes.”

“No.”

You and Steve faced off with silent stares, each trying to outdo one another to win this argument.

“I can leave the room if you want to know that badly,” you said.

“Or we can play Rock Paper Scissors to see who wins,” Steve quipped, amused.

“I don’t remember the last time I’ve had an such an entertaining couple as you two,” the technician chuckled.

“Oh we aren’t-”

“Together,” you finished for Steve.

You weren’t sure what to make by the woman’s amused, arched brow, but you didn’t try to dwell too much on it.

“Alright, I’d be too impatient to wait four more months,” you relented, “If he wants to know, I do too.”

“Really?” Steve asked, grinning, “You do?”

You nodded, smiling.

“I’d be terrible at shopping for the baby anyway if I didn’t know.”

“Alright,” the technician smiled, doing a last few checks as she moved the wand over your belly, “Ready, mom and dad?”

You and Steve both nodded and he grabbed your hand out of instinct, excitement filling his body.

She held the news off long enough to hand you a wet wipe to clean your belly with and you sat up, pulling your hand from Steve’s to gently wipe the gel off your skin. She waited a moment until you’d pulled your shirt back down to speak.

“You might want to tell us now before Steve dies of anticipation here,” you teased, motioning to him.

He looked like a little kid anxious to go to the toy store. He was fidgeting, unable to sit still and bouncing on his feet, an eager expression on his face.

“Okay, I’ll cut you some slack, daddy,” the technician smiled, “Congratulations, you’re having a little boy.”

The world stopped as the words sank in. This baby—this baby boy was now incredibly real. You felt light with happiness and excitement. You and Steve were going to have a little boy.

Steve’s smile couldn’t get any wider, he was so happy. He had had no preference, as long as it was happy and healthy, he was happy.

“I’ll go print out these pictures for you and I’ll be back,” she smiled, “I’m sure you need to use the bathroom, so you can go ahead.”

Steve had to laugh at the speed of which you climbed down off the table, hurrying off to the bathroom down the hall. There was no kind of speed like the speed of a pregnant woman who needed to potty. Or a hungry pregnant woman.

Truth be told, he had a huge amount of respect for any mothers. He may not be close to his parents, but in that moment he had a huge amount of respect for his mother for bringing him into this world.

When you returned, clearly very relieved, his eyes fell to the small curve of your belly. It was much bigger now than it had been even a month ago, but you still weren’t heavily pregnant yet. It was more like a soccer ball look. The sight of your bump did weird things to him. It made his heart flip knowing that you were carrying his baby—his baby boy. It made him love you even more.

He had resigned himself to the fact that he was utterly and truly in love with you and not just because of the baby. The baby may have brought you two together, but he wasn’t going to be the only reason he stayed with you. If it was up to Steve, he was going to keep you two forever.

He looked at your happy face, the sparkle even brighter than moments before when you both had found out the sex.

“Steve! He’s kicking!”

His eyes widened. It wasn’t the first time you’d mentioned feeling the baby move, but something about this time seemed different in the way you moved quickly towards him.

“Do you want to feel?” you asked.

“Can I?” he asked, hesitantly reaching out.

You nodded enthusiastically, taking his hand and placing it on the specific spot you’d just felt a kick. Steve’s eyes brightened, feeling the sensation of the kick against his palm. It was an insanely surreal moment.

“Wow,” he breathed, both hands coming to gently caress the sides of your belly, fingers stroking it gently, “Hi buddy, this is your daddy. Be a good little guy and don’t kick mommy too hard, alright?”

You smiled, watching Steve talk to the baby. You could’ve blamed the tenderness of the moment, the joy of the baby boy news, but you knew what it truly was that made you do what you did next.

You kissed him, right in the middle of the exam room at the doctor’s office, not caring who would walk in at the moment.

And he kissed you back.

He looked dazed when you pulled back and you gave him a shy smile. There’d be plenty of time to discuss that kiss—and kiss some more, obviously—but right now, there was only one thing you wanted him to know.

“I think it’s time to tell everyone.”

•

You were nervous as all get out to meet Steve’s friends. Not only were you his girlfriend now—one they hadn’t even known about, but you were having his baby. What if they didn’t approve?

“Relax, sweetheart,” Steve squeezed your hand as he simultaneously opened the door for you, to the diner you were meeting them at, “They’re gonna love you.”

Your parents had taken it pretty well when you told them right after the anatomy scan. Steve had stayed by your side for the entire call, much to your relief. They’d been thrilled with the fact that Steve had stepped up and been such a help. They even talked to Steve for a bit, instantly liking him. Then, they started making plans to come visit you before the baby was born, so they could meet Steve in person. Your mother couldn’t wait to help you shop for baby things.

Now, it was time to meet Steve’s very large group of friends. Your eyes widened at the sea of faces that sat at the back of the diner, divided between two tables. There were around ten people there. Four of them appeared to be around yours and Steve’s ages while the rest seemed to be a handful of years younger—possibly early high school aged.

You’d worn a bigger, more flowy dress to hide your growing bump as it would definitely give the news away before either of you could say anything. Even so, if anyone was to look at your stomach long enough, they’d pretty much be able to guess.

He had a gentle hand on your lower back as the two of you approached the group.

“Y/N these are my friends,” Steve smiled, making introductions.

Names swam your ears and you tried to hold on to who was who and match to the faces. They all seemed nice enough either giving you a smile, wave or a friendly greeting.

“Everyone, this is Y/N,” Steve said, wrapping an arm around your waist, “My girlfriend and the mother of my child.”

The group burst into chaos at that point.

Steve laughed at your shocked expression, his friends shouting over one another with their questions and excitement.

“Welcome to the family, babe.”

#steve harrington #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington fic #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x reader #stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things blurb #stranger things fluff

[ninas-gf]

i think it’s interesting how there are a lot of similarities between the playable cryo characters: they all tend to have contradicting personality traits, they deal with isolation/loneliness, and due to these factors they are emotionally repressed. i think cryo vision theories differ so much from each other because they have so much in common, and this makes it difficult to pinpoint how exactly these characters get their visions.

but personally, i believe that cryo visions have less to do with any of these things, and more to do with the concept of preservation.

(more details below)

think about it: there is already evidence of cryo having a rather…unnatural property of being able to preserve living beings. in xiangling’s story quest, we learn that a man from springvale was frozen for around three hundred years by a cryo regisvine (and managed to survive after all those years). similarly, in dragonspine (a region with an abundance of cryo energy) there are blocks of ice which are able to preserve elemental beings and living creatures without killing them…

now here is where we delve into the characters (well, at least all of them except aloy, who doesn’t have a vision story for some reason)…

i’ve come to the conclusion that a common theme of cryo visions is the desire to preserve something.

in shenhe’s case, this meant preservation of oneself (or survival). her story is simple: by gaining a vision during her struggle with a monstrous god, she was able to tip the scales in her favor and well, win and survive.

rosaria’s situation is quite similar. after she was captured by bandits, her life was a constant battle against hunger and cold. her cryo vision is what ultimately allowed her to gain the respect of the bandits, which was essential for her survival as she had already been driven by hunger and worn down from hard labor…

eula’s survival mechanism is definitely more of a mental struggle rather than a life-or-death situation, but in her vision story it is quite literally referred to as “her means of self-preservation” so… i think this one fits perfectly

qiqi’s vision manifested right before she was about to die, and in that moment she wanted to stop the flow of time. she didn’t want to die, she wanted to preserve her life and the memories of a happy past with her family…

now kaeya’s is one that confuses me a lot, because i can’t decide if his vision can be traced back to a survival instinct he felt during his fight with diluc, or if it’s something more complex involving his ties to khaenri’ah

the other one that i’m very unsure about is chongyun, mainly because he had three major ambitions when he received his vision: “become the greatest exorcist in liyue, control his abundance of yang energy, and rid the world of evil spirits.” personally i think controlling his yang energy would involve him preserving some kind of “emotional homeostasis” so that kind of works… i guess…

but it’s also important to note that preservation can extend to other things as well…

take diona, who desperately “wishes for her father to always be the man that she admires.”in other words, she wanted to preserve that positive perception of him

then there’s ayaka, who felt obligated to preserve the prosperity of the kamisato clan alongside her brother (who had just become the new clan head) as her mother lay sick and dying…

and as a pacifist who cares deeply for all living things, preserving the peace in liyue after the archon war was of prime importance to ganyu, and it seemed to be on her mind as she became secretary in the government and got a vision

i feel like there are many holes in this theory but there were also so many things that lined up, so i just wanted to make a post about it. i’m curious to know what everyone thinks, so please tell me 👀 (if anyone actually ends up reading a post this long and disorganized smehdmjdjd)

#cryo vision theory #genshin impact

[jennagrinsoverml]

ML Christmas Fic Recs

Merry Christmas to those who celebrate! 🎄🎁❄ I love a good seasonal fic and we have a lot of them in this fandom, so this is a long list. I'm not going to comment on the fics like I usually do to keep this post from being too long. Just trust me that they're all amazing!

I'll Be Home for Christmas by @thelibraryloser

Adrinette: Fake Dating for Christmas "Reasons"

Mistletoe by @11jj11​

The four times the Love Square found themselves under a mistletoe.

A Cat of Their Own by @sariahsue

Tom and Sabine have learned Ladybug's secret identity, it's obvious their relationship It's also obvious to them that Cat Noir adores their daughter. How deep do those feelings go? And how far are they willing to go to mother the boy underneath the mask?

Santa Baby, Slip a Superhero into a Box for Me by therealjanebingley

There's an akuma with the ability to give everyone their heart's desire for Christmas.

But when your heart's desire is your crush, and your crush has a secret identity…who's going to show up under your tree?

Better Fate than Never by @2manyfandoms2count​

This Christmas, about ten years after their first meeting, and five after Hawkmoth's disappearance, Ladybug and Chat Noir are taking the leap and finally revealing their identities to one another.

Two people, one hotel, one plan to drop the masks.

Seemed straightforward enough. Or so they thought...

The Purr-fect Gift by @gryffindorcls​

Years after the reveal and the start of their relationship, Marinette and Adrien move in together. To her dismay, Adrien has become distant and quiet after the move. Marinette just wants things to return to normal, but Adrien has a surprise for her that will change their lives forever.

Unraveled by @overworkedunderwhelmed​

When her holiday family obligations leave Chat Noir more than willing to pick up the slack, Ladybug comes to a rather startling observation -- one she was shocked to realize she hadn’t picked up on before.

Resolved, Marinette gives her all to make Christmas extra special for her partner.

But even the best laid plans can unravel.

Somebody Waits for You (Kiss Her Once for Me) by @thelibraryloser

Ladynoir: Caught Under the Mistletoe

The Christmas Miraculous by @mommadon​

Adrien's trying to build a new life for himself in New York, but after an unexpected break-up with his girlfriend, he returns home to Paris for some soul-searching. What he finds may surprise him.

A pure, 100% fluff, cheesy Christmas movie style fanfic for your guilty pleasure enjoyment.

baby please (come home) by @lnc2​

It’s the first Christmas after Hawkmoth’s defeat and Adrien is struggling without his lady.

Christmas by Starlight by @deinde-prandium

Worried that Ladybug is working too hard, Chat Noir plans the ultimate Christmas surprise. He's gonna give her the stars. Literally.

(Thing is, he doesn't realize that he's in for a surprise of his own.)

Then how the Reindeer Loved Him by @baneismydragon​

A chance meeting on Christmas eve leads to a moment of magic between Ladybug and Adrien.

Kistletoe by @codenamejd​

Adrien has inadvertently caught Marinette under the mistletoe...

...but Adrien's never heard of mistletoe.

12 Dates of Christmas by @lyramae-archer

When Ladybug notices that her partner, Chat Noir, seems down at Christmas season - the happiest time of year - she takes it into her own hands to make the days memorable and special, all with a Christmas spin. They aren't *dates* - they are just two friends doing Christmas things together because her kitty needs to smile. At least until she discovers who it is under the mask.

Kissing for charity by plikki

Marinette doesn't understand why the idea of Chat kissing someone else is killing her. It's for a good cause! But it's so bad that she's forced to spend her savings to make sure she would be the only one kissing him. For the sick children, of course.

Chat Noir's Christmas Spirit by @jennagrinsoverml​

Chat Noir isn't feeling the Christmas spirit this year.

How could he? Nothing's improved since last year.

But his Lady notices and puts her brilliant mind and kind heart to turning her partner's holiday around.

Since We've No Place to Go (Let it Snow) by @thelibraryloser

Marichat: Snowed In

and what's this? a BONUS trope? there was only ONE BED?

Be not afraid of greatness by @zipadeea​

"Love is blind, and lovers cannot see, The pretty follies that themselves commit." Maybe so, but sometimes, sometimes, all it takes to see is an early morning make-up exam, an irrational lack of sleep, and a pen that's out of ink. Reveal fic!

Chocolate Coins by @inkjackets​

A cold December day, a load of chocolate coins, two teenage superheroes... the perfect recipe for fun!

Smudged to Perfection by @overworkedunderwhelmed​

As pleased as Adrien was to have found an early Christmas gift from one of his friends on his desk at school, he was ecstatic when he realized it possessed a power far stronger than he’d ever imagined.

Zibeline by @chatonne-rousse​

Marinette finally pulls Adrien's name for the class gift exchange. She has a great idea for the perfect Christmas gift, but when Ladybug allows Chat Noir to help, things end up going differently - though not worse - than she had envisioned.

at every table, i'll save you a seat by @ladynoirist

unbeknownst to them, adrien and plagg have the same plan for christmas morning: giving their kitten the best christmas he's ever had

A game of pretend by @emsylcatac

Marinette was certain that Adrien was Chat Noir. She was also certain that he knew her identity. Yet, the both of them were acting like they hadn’t connected the dots and were still oblivious to what was now painfully obvious. She didn’t know if it was a game they were playing at or not, but if so, she had no intention of losing.

Which proved itself to be extremely difficult when Chat Noir suggested on patrol one evening that they go gift-shopping for their lovers together.

Butter by @ao3bronte​

It’s warm in their garden igloo, an Eden of good company and beating hearts cocooned against the December chill and the gently falling snow cascading from the heavens. Chat wishes he could spend the rest of his life like this, laughing and joking with Ladybug over a homemade Christmas dinner made just for the two of them.

Mice to Meet You by @sing-in-me-oh-muse​

Santa and his elves ended up sick from a shortage of sugar cookies because Mrs. Claus had gone on vacation to visit her cousin in Antarctica (and he's too busy to bake for himself and 300 elves).

So the day before Christmas, Santa calls Chat Noir for help.

But Chat can't do it on his own.

He needs help from Multimouse! Well. Several Multimouses.

Resolution by @thelibraryloser

Ladrien: New Year's Eve Resolutions

and also... another Ladrien specific bonus trope which is a surprise and I will give you a hint: it isn't gratuitous blushing

The following fic is amazing and absolutely worth reading, but does feature sexual content, so minors beware.  

Advent Calendar by @ghostlyhamburger

Chat and Ladybug do a different Christmas activity every day

#ml #miraculous ladybug #ml fanfic #ml fic #ml fic rec #ml christmas fic #christmas #christmas recs #ml love square #ml lovesquare #adrienette #adrinette #ladynoir #marichat #ladrien #identity reveal #fluff #jennarecsml

[quotergirl19]

This is the story of the death of Colin Bridgerton the boy and his rebirth as Colin Bridgerton the man. But not just any man, Penelope Featherington’s man:

Colin went to Featherington house to propose to Penelope after their unexpectedly passionate carriage ride the night before. He hadn’t seen it coming but he spent the entire night after they parted wishing that he was still with her, imagining her as his lady, as his wife… and he didn’t know how it happened but frankly he didn’t care about the how’s and why’s or even that she was Whistledown. Because he wanted that future, a future with Penelope as his wife. He wanted her more than he had ever wanted anything before in his life and he was about to make it known. If only he wasn’t so nervous…

Colin: Good day Pen, I hope you do not mind my unexpected visit but I was eager to speak with you after… well. It is only that… you see… my behavior last night was… ungentlemanly and I very much wish to make amends. I shall see to it that you have your dream wedding. You need only tell me your hearts desire and I will make it happen. Anything for my bride. Oh! Goodness, here I go getting ahead of myself, the least I can do is ask you properly… Miss Penelope Featherington, I am here to ask for your hand. Will you marry me?

Colin was disappointed in himself for not courting her properly and clearly he should not have behaved the way he did with a lady before marriage but he was determined to make it right and once his ring was on her finger, Colin was certain that life with Penelope would ensure his future happiness and he couldn’t wait until he could call her his, forever.

He realized that his proposal did not start off well. He should have planned a speech and rehearsed a bit to make it at romantic as possible. Penelope deserved a romantic proposal, he’d clearly cheated her out of a romantic courtship… in truth they had no courtship at all. They’d just come to know each other well over the years.

Penelope looked stunned, actually she looked like she might be sick. But she composed herself and spoke her response slowly, as though she was struggling to maintain her composure. Colin recognized the look on Penelope’s face from the night of his sister Daphne’s first ball as the Duchess of Hastings when he’d told Pen he was leaving town. She’d looked crushed and saddened as she spoke.

Penelope: Colin, I appreciate this more than you can know, I know you are an honorable man so I can imagine how deeply you must regret what happened between us. But I do not intend to force your hand. I know you were not… yourself at the time and you do not deserve to pay for what was clearly a mistake. Not with the rest of your life. You have my word, I will never tell a soul. You do not have to marry me. Now, please get off your knee before my mama comes in and you find yourself stuck with me.

Colin felt it in his bones that this was right, that he and Penelope where fated somehow… meant to be. So how could he have bungled this so badly that the only woman in the world he could not live without was so unaware of his affection for her that she would believe he would think marrying her was an unwanted obligation. He had to make it clear that he wanted this, wanted her. Forever.

Colin: Penelope I could never feel stuck with you. I truly believe that we would be happy together, I know it. I only wish I had been more respectful of you as a lady and courted you properly. But I swear I will be a good husband to you.

Penelope closed her eyes and shook her head refusing to accept his words.

Penelope: You must have rehearsed this because I almost believe you.

Colin: You misunderstand. I only mean to make it clear that I want to marry you Pen.

Penelope: Please stop. Lies are beneath you and we both knew even as you took me in your arms that what was happening between us meant nothing. Not really. Not to you. Men take their pleasure with women they do not care for everyday, do they not? I have heard it said that passion is fleeting and most dangerous for the woman but I allowed it because I knew in my heart that it would be my only chance to know what it could feel like if you were mine. But I am not so foolish as to believe you would ever choose me. I have accepted the truth, so I cannot marry you.

Colin: But I have chosen you. I am choosing you Penelope. What are you saying? What is it that you have finally accepted?

Penelope: That I am not the sort of wife anyone would expect a man like you to take. I am no mysterious beauty... I may be good enough to be your friend but you were very clear that I do not count as a woman in your eyes. You would never really choose me for a wife. You’re only asking me out of your sense of honor and obligation. In time you would grow resentful towards me and regret this decision. I am certain.

Colin: You are wrong, please, I must insist that you stop and think about this Penelope. I’m asking you because I want you. I realize how it seems but you are not forcing my hand.

Penelope: I know you are a good man Colin, but I also know that you do not love me. One day you will realize that this is what is best for both of us.

Colin: I will not dishonor you by not marrying you. Penelope we shared more than an innocent kiss, what happened between us, it was… intimate. It was our souls that touched. I cannot and will not pretend like it meant nothing.

Penelope could bear no more, she could not stop the tears that fell as she finally said what she was clearly hoping to not have to say.

Penelope: Have you considered what would become of me if I married you because of this. Because I have. It is all I did last night. We would stand before God and our families and you would vow to love me, knowing that your heart would never be mine. If I were your wife you know that I would give you everything. My heart, my body, my future… but I would know every day for the rest of my life, no matter how you pretended, that deep down you would always wish you were free of me. Free to share your life with a woman you could actually love. That any life I built with you would be little more than a friendship turned burden that you tolerated out of guilt. And I could not bear it Colin. Not when you are the only man I have ever… oh after all these years I am unashamed to admit the truth because I believe we both know what has not been spoken between us.

Colin: What are you—

Penelope: I love you. I’ve loved you for years. But you have never and will never, love me. Knowing that and marrying you anyway… it would not just break my heart Colin, it would tear my soul apart. You cannot ask this of me.

Colin felt utterly gutted. He didn’t care that Penelope’s mother could walk in at any moment or that it was already wildly inappropriate that they’d been alone together this long in her drawing room. In that moment, Colin Bridgerton was left with nothing in the world but the shards of his broken heart and more regret than he could bear.

Colin: Penelope please… I—

Penelope: I beg of you, as your most devoted friend, forget what happened between us and never speak of it again. You are free of me Colin. Please… just go.

Something in Colin snapped. A surge of emotion raged inside him like nothing he had ever experienced before. It was a force of fury, panic and pain as though Penelope had brought his heart to life and ripped it out of his chest all at once. He felt as if everything that had ever mattered to him was gone in an instant and nothing would ever be good in his life again.

No amount of traveling could distract from this pain. Colin was forever changed. He didn’t blame Penelope for saying what she said or feeling the way she felt but how, after all these years, how could she give up on him now? After everything that they shared. Colin’s insides twisted because he knew he had no right to expect her devotion or faith. Penelope had loved him for years. Years. Colin had seen that twinkle in her eyes every time she looked at him. It was that way for as long as he’d known her and it made him sick to know he’d dismissed it as nothing more than a young girl’s infatuation. He pretended not to notice and made sure never to flirt with her the way he did with every other young lady. Yet still she loved him. Even though she was so sure he didn’t want her she wanted him happy, to have a wife he could love. She was not selfish with him, not his Penelope. No, Penelope was always good to Colin, she encouraged him to pursue his dreams, whatever his heart desired, she wanted for him. Colin could not say when exactly it happened but he knew in that moment that what he felt for her was the same now. He loved her as much as she loved him. And he always would, even if she truly was lost to him forever. But he couldn’t give her up just yet.

Colin lost his heart so completely to Penelope that the idea that she was giving up on him forever had him hating himself. Of course she was giving up on him, he had hurt her for so long… it was not on purpose but what did that matter? He could not bear for another second to pass with his beloved hurt, sad and unaware of his complete adoration and devotion.

Colin took Penelope in his arms and looked her in the eyes before putting so much of his love in this kiss she’d simply have to feel what he was feeling before he bared his soul to her in utter despair.

Colin: I am sorry. For everything I have ever done to make you feel as though I could ever regret marrying you Penelope. No one has ever loved me the way you have and I have never known anything like what I feel for you. It is more than mere love. I may never deserve you, your heart or your future but you cannot ask me to leave you. Not when walking away from you, from us, would destroy me. And losing you would destroy me, Pen. Because I am yours. Last night you gave me a glimpse of what our life together could be. To love and be loved so deeply, to feel how I feel with you in my arms, to know I could build a life with you, my sweetest friend, my greatest love… the joy it would bring me to see you carrying my children, our children. God help me, I don’t have the words to express myself Penelope. I’m so desperately in love I feel like I’ve gone mad. If you are not convinced, let me court you. Let me show you how much I need you. How certain I am. Only, do not give up on me Pen, please. Take pity on me my love, and reconsider. I will never take a wife unless it is you. Let me be your husband, let me make you happy. I swear I will love you always. Please Penelope, say you will marry me. Be my wife.

The thudding sounds were mere moments apart, coming from behind Colin and as he spun to see that Portia and Prudence Featherington had not only entered the drawing room to find Penelope in Colin’s arms, they heard his fervent declaration of love as he begged for her hand and they’d both fainted just as Colin felt Penelope go limp, swooning in his arms.

Penelope came to sooner than the other two Featherington ladies, likely because Colin was fussing over her so sweetly. Helping her to the chaise and having the maid fetch something cool for her to drink while he held her hand, and kissed it.

Colin: Are you alright? Shall I call for a doctor?

Penelope: Everything you just said. The look on your face… in your eyes. This must be a dream but I want it to be true. You said that you love me.

Colin: It is no dream Penelope, I meant every word. I love you. Be mine. Choose me forever and let us never be parted.

Penelope: Yes Colin. I have always been yours, I will be your wife.

When their engagement was announced the ton was abuzz with speculation and rumor but Whistledown, who had once commented that the friendship between the two was so clearly platonic that she would bet her column on it, stopped writing all together when Colin Bridgerton became betrothed to Penelope Featherington.

No one who was ever around the newlyweds questioned why he married her. Their happiness was so infectious and the love between them so obvious that it became almost legendary. Theirs was the love that silenced the most notorious gossip in London.

Queen Charlotte, who finally discovered the true identity of Whistledown, met with the couple privately and after demanding her every question be answered, she commanded Penelope never to pick up her quill as Lady Whistledown again and even offered this wedding gift: Mrs. Penelope Bridgerton and her family had the protection of the crown should they ever need it and a promise that her secret would only be revealed if Penelope wished it so.

The Queen was so fascinated, entertained and enchanted by the secret life of this shy, gently bred young lady by day turned scandalous scribbler by night and how she was little more than a trapped bird who was now freed by love that she compared it to her favorite romantic novel. Her majesty even encouraged Penelope not waste her writing talent or her fairytale which inspired Pen to write her story, even if it needed editing to protect her identity.

The charming traveler and his waiting wallflower is what the world would see when they looked at Mr. & Mrs. Colin Bridgerton. And though she changed names and disguised the most identifiable parts of her story, when Penelope finally finished her novel, which was a wild success and in truth was more memoir than fiction, she sent a special copy to the Queen along with her thanks for her majesty’s grace and generosity, and for believing in her.

After so many years of being invisible to the world Mrs. Penelope Bridgerton called the love of her life, her husband and the Queen herself was a confidant and friend. There was never such a shining example of the transformative power of true love.

#happy thanksgiving to my fellow Polin shippers #quotergirl mini fic #bridgerton #polin #penelope featherington #colin bridgerton #Polin #Polin fic #penelope x colin #colin x penelope #she fell first he fell harder #friends to lovers #bridgerton season 3 expectations

[nancyqueerler]

imagine robin and steve still working at scoops ahoy and nancy comes in and picks the hardest ice cream to scoop and robin is Struggling but is determined to give the cute girl with pretty eyes her damn ice cream !!!!!

Robin had seen her come in. They locked eyes for one moment, and Robin saw her smile and wave a wordless hello. She saw her get in line, still smiling, all dressed up for her job. The dress she wore, white with tiny blue patterns striped down from the neckline to the skirt, a belt accentuating her waist, brought out her pearly blue eyes, like a lighthouse churned to life during the night.

She had tried to focus on doing her job, which was listening at other human beings order the ice cream they desired and simply using her iron scooper to ball it up and slick it onto cones. That was it, yet she kept fumbling through each order as though they were holding a gun to her head.

When Nancy came up to the register, it felt like she was pointing a blazing bazooka at Robin.

"Hey," she creaked, quickly clearing her throat of its nerves. "What can I get you started with today?"

"Uhm." Nancy glazed over the flavors, fingers pressed up against the glass barrier, bottom lip between her teeth and her eyelashes blocking the light of her eyes. Robin smacked her chest over her heart to scare it into silence. It didn't work.

Nancy looked pretty. She looked like a porcelain doll whose cheeks were dusted pink and her hair was puffed to frame her face to each angle. Rose perfume wafted off her like an aura. She might as well have come walking in cradling an entire bouquet of freshly-picked reds.

A princess in a sailor-themed ice cream parlor.

"How about," Nancy began, cuffing her wrist in her fist, "Rocky Road? Haven't tried that in years..." she added under her breath, flicking her focus back over to Robin.

Poor bird could have burst right then and there. With her mouth hung open, disguising her utter horror by perking the corners of her lips, she detached her eyes from Nancy's and dropped them on the untouched tub of brown, chock-full of chocolate and almond bits, freckled with marshmallows ice cream and immediately felt her gut cave in on itself.

Shit.

"Uh, totally. Let me just..." Robin fought her phalange muscles to wrap around the scooper's grip and unhooked it from its holster. Her gloved hand pointed at either a cone or a cup, Nancy gestured with her lips to the cone. Robin plucked one from the tower and warily dug the claw of the scoop into the thick Rocky Road.

Robin hated Rocky Road for only one reason: it was a damn thing to scoop. It had Rocky in the name for a reason. Bits and chunks acting as actual forks in the road. She often felt obliged to use both her arms to haul one boulder of it, but humiliating herself never did sound worth it. Especially when the prettiest girl was right in front of her, staring politely and grinning beautifully.

This is what I get for skipping gym class, she thought, jerking the scooper so the claw sunk deep inside. Right then she knew a piece of chocolate would impede the process, so she quickly hooked it deeper until the chocolate snapped and she was given way to pave the road.

When she began pulling the scooper towards herself, she was grateful for the gloves. Her palms had sweated like a glass of water left out under the sun, but the plastic of the gloves kept her grip firm on the handle. She heaved, and just as she was getting the hang of it, a piece of almond broke off the steady drive and the scoop derailed. Robin rapidly hitched the claw back and continued, cursing herself and turning a shade too red to dismiss as feeling too hot inside an ice cream parlor, successfully attaining a half-pretty ball of Rocky Road.

When she prepared to hand it over to Nancy, mentally congratulating herself for not fracturing her wrist bone, the girl stopped her.

"Oh, sorry, I forgot to say I wanted two scoops."

Shit.

Robin might as well have actually fractured her wrist bone. She went in for another scoop, digging the claw in beside the other chasm of missing ice cream, and began again.

This time, she trembled. She had refused to look at Nancy before, but now she could feel the girl's stare on her as her entire arm started to tremor. If she was shaking due to the strength she was exerting, the nerves biting her veins, or both, she couldn't tell.

Steve would make fun of her for this later. She was sure he was staring from the break room.

It didn't help that she let out an unwilling breath of exhaustion when she finally got the other scoop.

"Uhm, here! That's—That'll be three-fifty, please." Robin handed Nancy the cone without looking, feeling a hot wave travel up her body like a late afternoon shadow. She stuttered on the register when Nancy handed her a five dollar bill.

"Thank you, Robin," said Nancy, and this time Robin did look up. The girl was smiling a terribly bright smile that might have burned Robin's retinas if she stared too long.

"No problem, Wheeler. Enjoy your ice cream." Robin forced down whatever frog was about to make her croak. She grinned, Nancy nodded, but she didn't leave.

She opened her mouth and said: "I think I'll start taking Steve's advice more often."

Robin knitted her brows, confused. "What?"

"He'd said that I'd get a good show out of you if I came in and ordered Rocky Road," and she said this smiling again, licking the ice cream beginning to trickle down the cone.

"He told you to—"

"I think I'll come around again tomorrow," she said, cutting off a red-faced Robin. "It was cute watching you struggle." She left then, closing Robin's fist filled with change and grabbing a few extra napkins.

Robin didn't know how long she had stood there behind the register, echoing the word cute in her brain until it felt like it was the only word she had ever heard come out from anyone's mouth. When Steve came around and slung an arm over her shoulders, she had enough mental capacity to say: "Fuck you. I owe you one."

-

Hope this is what you had in mind! I enjoyed writing this one.

#ronance #heron's writing

[redladydeath]

So, back in 2022 I came up with this alternate history idea I called “Bloody Mary II.” I don’t think I ever posted publicly about it, but the main idea was basically “What if the Glorious Revolution went horribly wrong?” Recently, I was randomly struck with some new ideas for it, so I figured I’d write some stuff out.

During the advance on London, William is fatally shot by a random, independently-acting king’s man. Mary is in pieces when the news reaches her, but finds herself the new focal-point of the whole affair. William’s murder is an international incident; the invasion fleet is in disarray, unsure of whether to return home or press on, England is in chaos as the people struggle to make sense of what is going on (whether the aimless foreign army occupying their land is a good or bad thing, was the assassination justified or not, is war about to break out, what should be done about James, etc.), the Dutch want James’ head on a pike for killing their prince (James did not actually want William killed, but no one is willing to believe him at the moment), and all eyes in Europe are now on England. Despite her intense grief and lack of confidence in her abilities, Mary feels obligated to take up the reigns as the revolution’s new head.

She begins directing the invasion fleet and, once William’s body is returned to the Netherlands and she is able to lay him to rest, she sails to England to lead them in-person. She is driven by an urge to honor William’s memory and a burning desire for revenge upon her father for taking him from her. Despite her fairly swift arrival, the invasion has already been blown way off course; the English citizenry has become divided in their support for the revolution and James has had enough time to throw together a decent defending army. Instead of a bloodless coup, a full civil war breaks out between the two opposing sides. Mary truly wants no part in all this, but continues in her campaign because she feels that she must do what needs to be done.

Over the course of a year or so, Mary and James wage war against each other, despite both parties’ misery at “having” to do so. Eventually, Mary’s forces manage to push James out of Britain; he simply does not have enough support to keep fighting her indefinitely, despite her own unpopularity for leading a foreign army and instigating a second civil war. Mary is crowned queen while James and his family take refuge in France. However, the country remains unsettled and James continues to make attempts at regaining his crown, so Mary has her work cut out for her.

Parliament urges her to remarry in order to bring in more support and hopefully produce an heir, but Mary refuses to even entertain the possibility. Now that she no longer has the distraction of constant danger, her grief, combined with her pre-existing depression and the stress of having so many people relying on her to make decisions, is all-encompassing. She feels that remarrying would be a betrayal of William’s memory (despite him giving her permission to do so before leaving with the invasion force) and she decides she will never love again. She becomes an almost Queen Victoria-like figure, determined to stay in mourning for the rest of her life. Her unwillingness to compromise on this causes her reputation to take another hit, as she’s dooming the country to another succession crisis once she dies. Anne is still suffering her obstetrical problems, so there's no clear heir to the throne and many fear that the Dutch may attempt to sway Mary one way or another, as she is still closely involved with them despite not holding any power there.

Through the stress of navigating war and queenship without any preparation, Mary comes to rely heavily on Bentinck for support. He swore to William on his deathbed that he would protect and aid Mary and, in his own grief, has fully committed to that task. The two of them end up forming a somewhat co-dependent, but purely platonic, relationship, united in their grief for William. The English are highly skeptical of Bentinck; they already want to removal all Dutch influence from Mary’s court and his intense closeness with her has everyone convinced that they are having an affair. Some think that he's the reason she refuses to remarry, others that he’s manipulating her and is the real power behind the throne. None of it is true, but it does even more damage to Mary’s public image. After several years and several attempts to remove him through various means, Bentinck asks Mary to allow him to return to the Netherlands. She refuses, as she’s remained relatively isolated at court during her time as queen and she’s come to rely so heavily on his support and advice.

Eventually, during one of James’ attempts at invading Britain, a young James Francis Edward is captured by Mary’s forces. He is brought to her for her to decide what to do with him. Upon meeting him for the first time, Mary is struck with the horrible realization that this is indeed her brother and that the whole invasion that ruined her life it was predicated on a lie. Despondent and throughly emotionally exhausted, she is unsure of what to do with him and simply keeps him with her at Hampton Court. He’s young enough that he doesn’t completely hate her yet, and thus the two form a detached, but somewhat caring relationship. James and Maria are absolutely besides themselves, trying to get their son back, and Mary’s advisors are urging her to come to a decision about what to do with him, but Mary, exhausted with playing the political game, refuses to make a decision one way or another, content to simply sit still for the first time in the years. What happens next has yet to be seen.

All of this chaos and Mary’s extremely mixed reputation result in her going down in history as “Bloody Mary II.” She’s a figure of some sympathy on account of her horribly tragic life, but the English people simply could not forgive her for dragging them into a second civil war only 40 years after the first.

#Mary is Miserable the AU #redlady speaks #mary ii #william iii #history brainrot

[pomefiore-visitor]

mtf moira/ftm lucio breeding cw for breeding (of course) dacryphilia, overstim and slight lactation kink

i do not consent to minor interaction, minors dni

longest fic i’ve written to date!! I also know they’re more of a rare pair but i LOOOVEEE them. I’ve been fiddling with this for ages and while i’m still not entirely happy with it I need to show the world them always <333. Posted to ao3 here !!

Everything about them was so different from Lucio’s partners back at home. Hookups in the humid April nights of Rio were too casual for his liking. The conservative environment he faced frequently was all too familiar to him. And he was happy to oblige, so much so that he near convinced himself he didn’t ache for something more. Not a single soul would expect a hedonistic streak out of the DJ. 

But Moira was far off from the occasional fling, she knew him and knew what he wanted. She read him like a tome. And no matter how subtle Lucio thought he was being, Moira spotted it with expert precision. At first there was simply something Moira wanted to pick apart, she wanted to dissect his every want and need. Blooming into a near obsession to reverse engineer Lucio’s eros. 

It’s what led her to indulge his desires, giving ear to every fantasy that he spun. Lucio reveled in that, naturally. The feeling of being listened to, humoring him in a way that only she did. Lucio was not a demanding lover, not by any sense of the word. He happily fit any role that was asked of him, happy to bring any partner as much pleasure as he possibly could. But there was something different with Moira. A routine that they both found themselves enjoying time and time again.

He sought out his needs in the privacy of her cruel intimacy. There was something inherently off about his partnership with Moira. She was sterile, like there was a chemical bite in her afterglow. That feeling of asepsis served to heighten his arousal, and he found himself with buckled knees and slick dripping down his thighs with every word from her barbed tongue. 

And its moments like this — moments where Moira held Lucio down by his throat, opting into fucking him silly, he was more than happy to lay and take. Happy to be a warm hole for her. 

“You know…” Moira mused, easing the head of her cock out of Lucio with a slick pop. “You do look quite good like this.”

Lucio whined sweetly in response, so far gone in the rhythm he found to her shallow thrusts. The hypnotizing way her dick disappeared and reappeared into his slick cunt made him paw and scrabble at her, needy and wanting. He chirruped, bucking his hips upwards in a seedy tempo matching her own. 

“Puh- merda– Please. Please ma’am” He whines “I need you so so bad and I–” He sobs and hiccups once, overstimulated from his angry erect clit brushing against the cradle of Moira’s bony hips and the cock fucking in and out of him at a sadistic pace. 

Moira always watches him with a scientific eye, intentional with every roll and squeeze into him. And in this, infers his pleas as a green light for harsh, cruel, thrusts — holding Lucio’s waist in her hands for stability.

“So pretty when you cry, little one. '' She purrs over his babbles, pressing the palm of her hand against the base of his stomach. This forces the spongey center of his cunt closer to the impact of her cockhead, making him whine deeper in his throat. She took all of him in at this moment, admiring the way his small chest bounces with every thrust into his slick pussy. Expert hand moves to roll a dark nipple in between her fingers, cradling the soft bit of tissue at the base of his breast. She squeezes.

Barely coherent, it takes Moira a moment to truly figure out what Lucio is saying. He struggles with his words, skipping like a scratched record as the sound catches in his voice box. “Breed me ma’am” He squeals out in his desperate whines, broken and wanting. “Want it suh-so so bad. Want to be bred like a bitch in heat.” Lucio’s lungs hitch with full sobs.

“Oh?” She purrs at him with a smile. The cries fill her chest with a sort of pride, bubbling to the surface with every mean roll of her hips into his aching cunt. As gentle as a lover she had the capacity to be, she was sadistic and calculated to her core. And at this moment, the barbed venom was all Lucio needed. The notion of breeding him, even when lost in a chorus of pleas, sends a ripple of excitement through her. In one smooth calculated motion Moira’s palms slide up behind the back of his thighs and pin them to the sides of his skull. She traps him in the press, eager to stuff him full. 

It takes little for Moira’s cock to kiss his cervix, being so deep inside him. Lucio flutters around her, his cunt squeezing down like a vice. “What a precious breeding bitch you are, taking me in so well” Moira purrs as she works him open. “How well will you take my seed, I wonder.” Her well manicured hand slides over his taut stomach. “I look forward to watching you grow fat with pups..” She pinches and rolls his nipples between her fingers as her hips stutter, the torturous act of mating him spurring her on. 

The stimulation was enough to make Lucio cry -- and cry he did. Arching his back and choking on his own squeals. He bucks his hips once against Moira in a silent plea, begging and chasing his finish. 

“You are not to come without my express permission, a pheata.” She states firmly, the heel of her palm pushing his lower abdomen down onto her dick again. She thrusts once, then twice, then a third time. And as Lucio’s short fingernails dig into the lean muscle in her shoulder blades, she’s coming. Finishing deep inside him and topping up the pinprick opening of his cervix till it spills over onto the sheets below. 

“You will take everything I have to give you, and then you will finish.” Moira states matter-of-factly, leaving no room for argument (although there would be little arguing coming from Lucio, anyways). And he’s nodding and babbling and sobbing in agreement. 

“Feel so full.” He bawls, feeling Moira’s cock pulse in his stomach. She leans over him, not moving her hips but sliding her palms up his stomach to pull on his nipples with an expert hand.

“Can you imagine how much more full you’ll feel soon, pet? Leaking ichor and stuffed to the brim with life?” She coos at him, her fingers squeezing the base of his areola to attempt to simulate the feeling of getting milked, other hand rubs comforting circles into his belly. Lucio whines, loud and high-pitched in the back of his throat and his pussy soaks through at the thought. He takes a gasping breath as he looks down at her ministrations, so gentle but so cruel.

Moira hums and looks down at him, giving a little experimental thrust. “Do you need me to help you finish taking my seed, little pollywog?”

And he’s squealing, his body involuntarily bucking up to meet her hips. “Yes ma’am. Want to come so bad, I-” He hiccups, looking down where their bodies join. “Want you. Need you-”. 

Her hand moves to palm at the junction of her cock and his cunt. “Then take it.” She says with a roll of her hips, fucking spurred on with the want and need to see him unravel further. “That’s a good boy, come now.” And with her permission -- Lucio is screaming. Begging at the air for everything and nothing and all things in between. His hips lifting and twitching in the air as violent orgasm rips through his stomach. 

Before long he’s flopping sweaty and panting onto the mattress beneath. With a slick pop Moira is following him, cock slipping out of his cunt easily. They lay there, breathing heavily and catching individual breaths. Eventually Lucio turns and curls into the older woman. 

“Mmph.. Thank you, bem” he says, voice small. “Needed that.”

Moira hums and starts tracing circles into the soft skin of his stomach. She peppers kisses against his earlobe and observes his softened features with a kind gaze. “Of course, cub. You did such a good job, you always do” She praises softly. “Do you feel alright?” 

Lucio’s humming, a soft noise in the base of his vocal cords. “Feel good” he croaks. “Floaty... sleepy”. He cuddles into her further and shifts where he lies. “Could fuck up a bath right about now” He chuckles, mostly to himself until Moira is scooping him in deceptively strong arms. She cradles him, kissing his face. “Bath it is, then. I’m not letting you go to bed without one.” And as Lucio slips into her, she tuts, but brings him to her bath all the same.

#pomme writes #dacryphilia #breeding cw #cw breeding #tw lactation #cw lactation #nsft #trans nsft #moira ow #lucio ow #moira x lucio #moira x lucio nsft #moira nsft #lucio nsft #nsft fanfic #overwatch nsft #overwatch #overwatch imagines

[eddysocs]

The Object Of Desire — Chapter Seven (Hidden Thoughts And Secret Places)

Summary: After a short night, Aerla must go about her day, and relief comes in the form of her private forest clearing. There to write out some of her thoughts, her peace is interrupted.

Word Count: 1,117

Warnings: Some minor angst/drama, progression of feelings within a student/teacher relationship

Later that night, Aerla lay sleepless, staring up towards the ceiling. Again, the day's events played over and over in her head. Beautiful, blissful images swam at the forefront of her mind, yet still the thoughts somehow plagued her, taking her slumbering hours away from her. Di, directly across the room from her, was awake as well. Aerla sighed, half with contentment and half with frustration at her inability to fall asleep.

"Hey," Di whisper yelled. Aerla sat up. Her eyes were accustomed enough to the darkness that she could tell Di was also sitting up and looking —rather, glaring— at her. Aerla pointed at herself to clarify that Di had been speaking to her. Had she done something to wake her? She hadn’t thought so. "Yes, you. You came back from the lake awfully late. What were you doing out there?"

Aerla didn’t like the accusation in Di's tone. What did it matter to her what she did or didn’t do? Yet she needed to answer her. Although she certainly had no obligation to tell Di the truth. At least not the whole of it. "I stayed to speak to Miss G. I wanted to tell her that I don’t think I’ll be joining your diving team. I don’t think I'm suited to it."

"Oh," Di replied flatly. Aerla didn’t know what she'd been expecting to hear, but she assumed that hadn’t been it. "Okay then. Shame. You were kind of good," Di replied dismissively and with a passive aggressive shrug. Aerla fought not to argue with her. She was damned good, and Di knew that as well as Aerla herself did. Miss G had praised her on her dive, possibly more so than any of the other girls. Perhaps Di was merely jealous that she was better than her. Aerla longed to gloat, lord it over her like some primary school bully, but she didn’t need the conflict. Di seemed determined not to like her, and she didn’t need to give her any more reason to hate her.

After Di laid back down, and Aerla was able to be off her guard once more, she actually settled into a light sleep. Morning seemed to come too quickly however, and Monday's classes were bright and early as usual. For her first few courses of the day, she was struggling to keep awake, the monotony coupled with her shortened night of rest was a draining combination.

Lunchtime had perked her up a bit, having forgone breakfast for roughly half an hour more of rest. The afternoon then proceeded to go much smoother for her. She was more attentive, especially after passing Miss G in the hall between class periods. And then classes concluded for the day and she was free. While the other girls gathered in dorms and a short distance outside the building, Aerla made her way to the forest.

The clearing she'd found on her first foray out into the woods awaited her and the journal she’d brought along with her. Birdsong again filled the secluded area, and Aerla sat on the large, fallen log to put some thoughts down on the pages in her journal.

Camille. French in origin. There is something exotic about her that keeps her always in my thoughts. It is not unlike what I felt for the girl from home, whose name need not be mentioned here, yet it is not quite the same either. With the girl, curiosity. With Camille…perhaps desire?

The snap of a twig got her attention and froze her pen to the page. It could have merely been an animal traipsing through, but she had to be sure. She slowly lifted her head to observe her surroundings. In the distance, she caught a glimpse of a silvery, silken skirt as someone darted away beyond the trees. Perhaps it was time to leave. She wanted to preserve this spot as her own, and if someone was already poking around, she best wait until later for another visit.

Camille had only meant to keep an eye on the girls after classes had let out for the day. She’d been making her rounds, seeing that the girls had mostly grouped up for a bit of fun during the pleasant weather before the rain came overnight. And that’s when she’d spotted Aerla heading for the forest. Normally, the girls weren’t permitted past the tree line, but she seemed to be heading somewhere with a purpose and Camille wanted to know where.

She lingered behind at quite a distance, only just able to keep Aerla in her sights. When she saw her enter the woods, she pressed forward after her, carefully treading into the brush. From behind a thick and gnarled old tree, Camille stood and watched as Aerla entered a forest clearing, sitting herself on a fallen log. It appeared that she was writing something. She wouldn’t be able to see the words on the page even if she were to draw closer, yet she took a step forward anyway. A mistake.

The crack of the stick beneath her feet had clearly startled the young woman, whose writing ceased immediately. Camille knew she’d have to flee. She could only hope she was fast enough to avoid catching Aerla's eye as she went. Her mad dash from the woods left her wanting for breath by the time she reached the forest's edge. It was already starting to get dark at this time of year, and a chill was setting in, so Camille jogged off to go inside and grab a coat. She might have just stayed in, but she wanted to make sure Aerla made it back.

Camille stood outside the school's entrance and waited, puffing on a cigarette to look as if she were preoccupied with anything other than worry for her favorite pupil. When Aerla finally came trotting up the hill, Camille exhaled a long plume of smoke, along with an abundance of relief. Everyone else had gone inside by the time she reached the door, so that left them alone. "Camille, what are you still doing out here?"

Camille almost lost her cool when Aerla addressed her by her first name, but another drag from her cigarette helped her to regain her composure. "Just making sure everyone comes inside," she replied. "You’re the last."

"Sorry to keep you waiting," she apologized, though a hint of a smile told her she wasn’t entirely sorry for it.

"Not at all. After you." Camille half bowed as she gestured to the door with a flourish. Aerla smiled at the act she was putting on until she caught sight of a peek of silver coming from under Camille's long, black coat.

🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵

Chapter Six <- 🩵 -> Chapter Eight

Forever Tag: @arrthurpendragon, @baubeautyandthegeek, @atjsgf, @kmc1989, @curious-kittens-ocs, @fanficanatic-tw, @kissykissymouth

Aerla Grae: @athenodora-sulpicia-writer, @ilovehotactresses

#oc: aerla grae #fc: francesca capaldi #fd: cracks #fic: the object of desire #miss g #miss gribben #miss g x oc #miss gribben x oc #cracks 2009

[shinidamachu]

How do you think Kagome would handle high school/young adult life if she never went down the well (at that point)? I assume she'd study a lot, and maybe go on a few dates from obligation. But I think it'd be sweet if she felt like her heart already belonged to someone

How do I think Kagome would handle High School and young adult life if she never went down the well? Like a champ! Let's not forget that she managed to graduate despite the crazy adventures that forced her to miss a considerable amount of classes, meaning she was way behind the rest of the class and had to make up for it on her own, in between fighting one dangerous demon and the next while dealing not only with physical and psychological traumas but also with a broken heart.

I believe that before she fell down the well, it's a canon fact that she was on top of her classes, which makes perfect sense because as an average girl, studying was pretty much her only obligation and number one priority. Through the whole series we were shown time and time again just how serious she took her education. Even after the weight of a world saving mission fell on her shoulders.

There's more than enough evidence for us to assume Kagome was a fast learner — look at how quickly she managed to figure the Feudal Era out — and that she could self-taught too, if needed: not once did we see her taking bow and arrow or spiritual power lessons, which means she had to be learning on the job by trial and error, practicing under unbearable pressure.

She's "book" smart, but she's also very clever. Always quick on her feet, always capable of adapting and finding creative solutions for the problems they face, ultimately saving the day because of it. Her intelligence also makes her a great strategist — she has an amazing understanding of her own strengths and weaknesses as well as her opponents, using this knowledge against them and in her favor —and an excellent leader — remember how she took charge of things in the school fair episode?

She is organized and determinated by nature. Without the distractions and the ulcer indulcing stress she had to go through, school and adult life would have been a walk in the park for her, because she would have finally been able to focus, which she does due to her inherent desire to learn stuff — she loves making herself useful and having an extensive baggage of information is a wonderful way to do that — and to make her family proud.

This is not to say she would never find adversities along the way. Nobody can be good at everything and we've seen her struggling with math (and it makes sense for someone with her personality to find the subject extremely uninteresting, preferring words instead of numbers — personally, I've always took her for a biology-literature-history kind of girl). We've also seen how incredibly anxious tests tend to make her.

But another thing that Kagome has to her advantage is that, despite her stubbornness, she's never too prideful to ask for help when she's feeling lost, be it talking out her boy problems with her mother or asking the girls to borrow their notes. And she does have a support system to help and guide her when needed.

So yes. She would study a lot. She would also go on dates and live all of the experiences that are expected for a girl her age to live. Her friends would make sure of that. And Kagome would probably feel like she owe it to them — to herself — to see what all the fuss is about, but would ultimately realize that she doesn't have to do anything just because someone else said so and would live her life on her own terms.

I think she would have been a well adjusted young adult. As clueless and scared as everyone is at this age, but trying her best and making it up as she goes. I see her as a pediatrician because it combines her passion for children and for medicine. I can also see her as any other type of doctor, as a teacher, as a business graduate that got over her aversion to math so she could manage the family shrine, as a writer who tells the fantastic fairy tales she didn't get to live and I can see her working her butt off in a living wage job first, in order to get there. The possibilities are endless...

But I also think that the odd feeling of something missing would haunt her wherever she goes. She would try to fill this emptiness with school and then with her job, she would try to distract herself from it with her family, friends and romances. However, the sensation of not being where she was supposed to be would always be there, in the back of her mind, making her restless. She would have spent the rest of her life searching, longing, for something that she doesn't even know what it is.

Don't get me wrong. I'm positive that she would have made a remarkable life for herself regardless. It would still have been beautiful and joyful, only in different ways. And Kagome would be happy somehow.

But she would never be satisfied.

#Inuyasha #Kagome #Kagome Higurashi #Inukag #Sidmailing #This was an excellent question #I'm glad we're on the same page #Sorry about the long ass response #I'm sure you were expecting something way shorter #But Kagome is my girl and I have a lot of feelings about her #So I WILL gush about her like a proud mama hen #And no one can stop me