#and i want it to be done so in a positive and respectful manner towards hobbyists

[natsmagi]

i was typing this in the notes to an ask but it gogt waaaay too long lol sorry. prefacing it with you know i love your artwork & i have nothing against what you choose to draw. also possibly worded weird cus i didnt write it in the sense of talking only to you alone

there is certainly this conflict between artists as random individuals and artists as a collective when it comes to how to approach this issue… as a hobbyist you can draw whatever you like but also when you have trends like a lack of fatness thats going to be disheartening too. i think the answer is getting more people into making art (& like general societal change of course since its an issue baked into bigotry.)

because as much as i agree with the sentiment of "there is significant under representation of fat women" (or characters in general) at the same time fandom is a hobby space and i dislike the notion of badgering individual artists to draw any particular thing especially when the source material does not have that thing. if you are looking for artwork of fat women thats great but i would not ever recommend something like enstars that has 1. no fat characters and 2. no women, barring a few exceptions. i think expecting to find fanart of fat women from a source entirely composed of thin men is unrealistic, even with the relative popularity of femstars.

plus there are other complications such as the typical modern fandom f/f scene sometimes being very strict and even vicious at times with their standards of what's enough diversity or what content is appropriate. ive heard a lot of anecdotes about people who WERE contributing to these things but whom were still harassed or got threats from other users over it not being good enough, and that's just not conducive to creating the environment or diversity you want. nobody is going to want to be in a fandom space where they have to walk on eggshells all the time. and i bring this up because of how you were clearly harassed by randos. accusing you of misogyny or shaming other womens' bodies as being "unrealistic" is not the way to go

the only reasonable solution i can think of to this is, again, to just encourage more artists to start drawing in the first place, or even better start contributing yourself. individuals should have the freedom to draw what they like without getting flamed for it AND people should be able to see themselves represented in artwork. i would like to see some more fat characters too, this is definitely something ive thought about before myself

(personally all the fat people i draw are ocs or portraits of people i know that i dont want to post online but maybe if i get some inspiration i will draw the long-sought chubby mugi myself. i am not super interested in femstars though so whether or not itd actually be fem mugi is up in the air. but all the talking here about this topic has had me thinking about following my own advice and putting what i want to see into the world.)

OUGHH THESE ARE ALL GOOD POINTS!! and i agree! the main thing we should be doing is ENCOURAGING people to add more diversity, not harassing them into it! people who only draw for fun arent really obligated to draw anything outside of their comfort zone, which again is why i think its better to simply uplift the idea of trying out new things and new appearances that you dont often draw

theres also SO MUCH room for more femstars artists too! and like ive said before if you wanna see something done right you gotta do it yourself. and i kind of like that. i like that everyone gets to craft their own little femstars variant of the enstars cast, and you can make them look however you want! and honestly? you SHOULD! seeing personal touches to designs always brings me joy, so even if you dont feel very confident in your art, if you have a specific vision for a character that you want brought to life please go ahead and draw it!! (or if you really dont want to you can always commission someone)

i also wanna highlight one of ur last points too bc yea. its unfortunate but often times whenever i see someone try adding diversity to their art for the first time they end up getting flamed because its not an accurate depiction of what they were trying to represent. and that really sucks! obviously we should strive to have accurate representation, but if its an artist that hasnt tried their hand on it before, ESPECIALLY a beginner artist, we shouldnt flame them for it. rather we should educate them on what went wrong and how they can improve for the future. these are people who actually WANT and are TRYING to add diversity to their art, but because in animanga circles theres a lack of education on how to draw more diverse features of really any kind. which is why trying to educate is far better than shaming. because if you shame these artists theyre gonna be too scared to try again, giving us less diversity once more

so yes basically what im saying is i want us all to encourage diversity and to help each other out by sharing resources and tips when it comes to drawing it!! one person is Obviously not gonna be able to do every single thing, which is why i want more people to pick up the pen and bring life to their visions!! also i really want more femstars food pelase pick up the pen i am a starved orphan and only femstars yuri can satiate me!!!!!!!!!

#long post #<--felt warranted KAHJSDFK #but genuinely though i want diversity to be requested and desired #and i want it to be done so in a positive and respectful manner towards hobbyists #if we're talking megacorps u can shittalk them all u want and send all the angry emails in the world #but for artists on the internet who are only here to have fun its important to remember to be kind and encouraging! #bc asking them for rep in a hostile manner is only gonna create negative associations #which. would be counterproductive #diversity is a wonderful thing so please do not make people resent it by being rude!!!! #that is not what we should strive for!!!! #ask

[bluerosegardens]

hello! Is it okay if you write dorm leaders reaction to a heavily energetic reader please, if you don’t want to Idm ^^

of course, anon! thank you so much for requesting, i hope you like it!

dorm leaders + gn!energetic!reader

c/w: i can't write for jamil very well but i tried, leona is annoyed by you but respects you still, can you tell i can’t write for vil. malleus’s part is like 60x more romantic than the rest of the characters sorry 🤧

notes: ok so i have only completed book 3, but ive gotten plenty of spoilers about the next four books so i think i wrote for them pretty well just a heads up tho

RIDDLE ROSEHEARTS find you a little hard to keep up with. He himself has his outbursts and episodes like anybody else, but that also comes with anger, so he does his best to suppress them. But you? No, you were always this way, and in a positive manner. It almost reminded him of Kalim, except that you could handle yourself and seemed to be relatively smart, seeing that you were passing your classes as a non-magical person in a magical school.

Your excitability sometimes led to you have an evident, though not purposeful, disregard for the rules. It was irksome, yes, and it took a lot of restraint from him not to lash out at you as much as he may at Ace or Deuce—he still feels guilty from his Overblot, and besides, you’re a lot easier to stand at times than compared to those two. But, overall, he still manages, opting to instead recite the rule you broke tamely, and receiving an understanding nod from you that makes him pleased. Quietly, he’ll let out this small sigh, a symbol of his appreciation for your respect of his strict ways. It isn’t easy for him to change, and while he’s trying his best, it’s nice to know he has somebody who’s willing to comply with the rules for his sake.

LEONA KINGSCHOLAR somehow gets even sleepier in your presence. Just the sight of you having so much energy makes him lethargic. Why were you always so peppy? How were you always so peppy? It didn’t make any sense to him. You being this way wouldn’t be so much of an issue if you weren't so persistent. But here you were, shaking his shoulder in an attempt to wake him, and here he was, tired and annoyed and letting you drag him to his classes just to shut you up. It was like having a brighter, more talkative version of Cheka that actually knew what made him tick. It was irritating, but if he really hated it so much, why'd he always comply and go along with you? He'd never admit it, not in a million years, but he has this respect for you after all you've done for NRC, so he finds it best to give into your wishes, no matter how childish you seem. Because he knows that you aren't. He's seen it play out with every single Overblot. You're a lot more clever than you look, Herbivore, and he gives credit where credit is due.

AZUL ASHENGROTTO has to deal with Floyd on the daily, so it's not like this is anything new to him. If anything, it's better, considering your energy doesn't take the form of violence, like a certain Leech twin. At first, Azul did mistakenly assume your energy to be included with stupidity, which was a grave error on his part, when he discovered your scheme to destroy his contracts. In fact, he really thought you to be dumb enough to forget to even drink the water breathing potion before you went underwater to the museum. He was harshly incorrect, however, and so now he deals with the price of having to put up with your bounciness. You visit the Mostro Lounge quite often, helping out for an extra profit where you could and checking up on Azul, despite his protests against it. He's internally thankful, somewhere deep down, but it makes him embarrassed to admit it.

JAMIL VIPER is tired of this treatment. What did he ever do to deserve this? Is this punishment for his ill thoughts toward Kalim he's harbored for so many years? Why'd a Kalim Part Two have to come along? And hang around the Scarabia dorm so much? He was tired, over it, and so done with this crap. At the very least, you're not irredeemably dumb, and you're able to handle and care for yourself. You've made that quite evident from your life in Ramshackle to the way you've dealt with numerous overblots. He's surprised someone of your.. nature.. could be so responsible. So, as a minor thanks for not being completely stupid, he does his very best to.. avoid you. Why? Well, because even though you're tolerable, he'd prefer to not have a complete outburst of anger at you, fueled by Kalim's irresponsibility and the two of your energetic natures combined. So, consider this a favor. He's trying to be considerate, let him do what he needs to do.

VIL SCHOENHEIT is intrigued, not annoyed, but not overjoyed, either. Epel’s a handful already, so now that he’s taking on yet another project, he’d prefer it if you were a little more compliant than the purple haired first year. He understood it felt difficult to sit still for a while, but just try for him, okay? Otherwise he finds it rather endearing. He thinks it’s cute, the way you get excited to see him all the time. It’s flattering, definitely. He just wishes you'd sit still while he paints your nails, potato.

IDIA SHROUD is overwhelmed please leave him alone why are you so wild god help him. He’s already constantly afraid of Kalim and Cater jumping him, now he’s gotta worry about another secret THIRD threat? this is NOT fun he NEVER should have exited his room WHY did he let Ortho drag him around today. You kind of scare him into attending classes. Though he guesses (?) he’s appreciative of having another person who seems so enthusiastic about games like he is. But please don’t scare him like that or else he WILL be going into conniptions.

MALLEUS DRACONIA finds it interesting, adorable and very fascinating. He’d adore you regardless of what you were like, but this is just so endearing to him. It’s one thing that people seem to get iffy around him, whether that be out of respect or fear or both. But you don’t seem to be overly respectful of him, nor afraid. It might seem like a death wish to most, but in your case? You were too enthralled with the current task of running up to him excitedly every time you saw him to even give it any thought. And that is what he appreciates and desires so much out of you. It brings a smile to his lips every time you bound outside of Ramshackle at night to walk with him, or when you have this big grin on your face as you talk about something that interests you. He couldn’t ask for it any other way, really.

#twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x mc #twst x yuu #twisted wonderland x yuu #twisted wonderland x mc #malleus x reader #azul x reader #riddle rosehearts x reader #idia shroud x reader #jamil x reader #vil schoenheit x reader #leona kingscholar x reader

[jiminjamms]

sex therapy :: 20. showtime

chapter tags/warnings: dad! toji. toji also calls himself daddy. vouyerism. angsty! megumi. infidelity/adultery. pet names (mainly "princess" and "sweetheart"). mentions of violence. mentions of betrayal. so much family drama. strong language. classism. manipulative undertones.

word count: 2.6k

notes: this was originally going to be one long ass chapter but I had to break this into two. you will see why. enjoy! comments, likes, and reblogs are much appreciated. xoxo

fic masterlist | 01. 02. 03. 04. 05. 06. 07. 08. 09. 10. 11. 12. 13. 14. 15. 16. 17. 18. 19. 20. 21. 22. 23. 24. 25. 26. 27. 28. 29. 30. 31. 32. 33.

Obviously, you wanted to learn everything about Toji Fushiguro.  

He didn’t have to hear you say it. 

Already, Toji could tell from the inquisitive glisten in your round eyes, that all he saw in you was curiosity with the need—not the want—for him to share himself with you. Naturally, you would like him to retell his story from chapter one. 

Similarly, he longed to share his tales, revealing the burdens that had been gnawing at him since his childhood. That Toji had known Naoya for years, that he used to be a Zenin himself, that he knew your husband was fucking his ex-wife. How messed up was that? 

Very much so.

The main problem was, though, that Toji was selfish. 

While he would love to be honest, he did not want to shatter your trust in him. He knew how much you lived under Naobito and Naoya’s control since your father worked under the Zenin Corporation, so the last thing he desired was for you to associate him with them. 

Toji didn’t want you to be scared around him, too.

The idea of losing you was something that Toji did not want to think about. Yes, this was going to sound possessive but...Toji liked having you around. Not in a sexual way, but in a companionship manner.

Or maybe both, but still.  

Regardless, your presence comforted him.  

Of course, Megumi was another factor in the equation. Given that the teenager hated his Uncle Naoya, he understandably could not stand to see his pampered in-law (you) either. Toji knew Megumi’s frustration was a projection of his mental turmoil and that much of the ordeal was due to Toji’s previous poor decisions regarding women. 

But you were different.  

For the first time in a very long while, Toji believed he had gotten something right. 

All these thoughts brewed in his mind as he outstretched his arm to brush over the smudged mascara by your cheek. In vain, he attempted to rub away the signs from your earlier sadness. 

“Want to wash your face in the bathroom first?” 

The question came out more like a command, and defeat sank into your features as you ultimately respected his decision. 

“Okay,” you acquiesced.

Even if you wanted to, there was no chance for you to protest when Toji stepped past you and toward the spiral staircase. You followed him without another choice, trailing behind him like a lost duckling.  

Although you seemingly settled down from the whole Naoya situation, Toji had yet to. As he ascended the steps to the apartment’s upper level, he placed up a front in which he was all calm and levelheaded when—in reality—he could still feel the burning, white-hot anger rolling off his body. 

Toji badly—so, so badly—wanted to hightail it to wherever the fuck Naoya was in this world and beat the living shit out of him. He always knew that his kid cousin couldn’t be trusted with a wife because he wrecked so many people already. 

Nonetheless, Toji had kept these thoughts to himself ever since he first heard about Naoya’s marriage from business and celebrity newspapers. After all, Toji didn’t know you earlier this year and wasn't in the appropriate position to intervene, therapist or not. His relationships were his relationships, and your relationships were yours. 

Now, with that misogynistic jackoff proving him right, Toji had some regrets.  

He should have done more.  

Toji abhorred knowing that Naoya was emotionally abusing you, disrespecting you, and treating you like you were just another dumb slut.

Put simply, he absolutely could not stand to see you so upset and fucked over by somebody who didn’t deserve you in the first place—by Naoya fucking Zenin of all people in this world. 

While Toji would admit that he had his reservations about you upon the first encounter, he rapidly realized that you were nothing more than an innocent lamb caught in an ugly crossfire. 

Could Naoya not see how lucky he was with you? A whole package was what you were: your allure unparalleled, your energy contagious, and your elegance remarkable. No wonder Naobito had taken every measure to secure you as his son’s wife.

On the other hand, Toji sincerely wished that you would no longer be miserable because a person like you deserved to enjoy all the rhapsodies of life. 

Sometimes, Toji wished that you stood up for yourself more. He wished that you had been more selfish over some things that were rightfully yours. Your marriage, your family, your happiness一these belonged to you , yet some other woman (the real ‘dumb slut’) was robbing you of these entitlements.

Had you been single, had you waited a little, Toji knew for sure that countless suitors would have lined up vying to court you, willing to throw themselves on the line because you would be their queen. 

“Are you alright?”  

Given that he had been lost in thought, Toji jolted at your voice. He had stopped completely at the upstairs landing, brain still reeling from thoughts of leaving Naoya busted and bloodied, hanging on to life from a thin little thread. 

Vigorously, he shook his head from side to side to clear his mind. 

Regardless of how badly he wanted to and how easy the task would be for him, Toji would not stoop that low to exert physical violence on someone else. Even though the fool deserved to be punished twenty times over, Toji wouldn’t hurt your husband because you would also not want him to. 

But damn, holding himself back was hard. 

For Toji, who had seen how Naoya’s impulsivity and greed had hurt his step-daughter Tsumiki and his son Megumi as well, restraint was especially difficult.   

"Ah, my bad,” Toji finally said after composing himself many moments later. He then realized that he had yet to introduce the apartment’s layout. “So the lower level includes the guest areas: the parlor, kitchen, bar, dining space, home theater. Upstairs, though, are where the living spaces reside.” He gestured toward the far rear of the corridor. “Bedrooms are over there with a study room at the end, but the washroom,” he went several steps ahead, pushing open the first door to the left, “is right here."  

In slow and inquisitive steps, you followed as Toji started rummaging in a linen closet by the entrance. He grabbed at the white cotton towels in the lower compartment.

"For you," he explained, placing a neatly folded set into your delicate hands. “Here. Splash some cold water on your face. Let me find you in a couple of minutes. I will check on Megumi in the meantime.” 

“Alright,” you hummed while Toji retreated back into the halls. 

“Talk to you later, then.”

Next mission was Megumi Fushiguro, a troubled boy who could easily be misunderstood. 

Oftentimes, Toji saw his own reflection within his son. He recognized himself the most in Megumi’s cheerless gaze, where beyond the initial glimpse lay a barren tundra bleakened by pain, by incidents that have hurt him before. 

In that dark void existed a part that cried for help, but this place remained faded over so that others could not pry into the true emotions within.  

Megumi was terrified. 

Heck, even Toji was, too. 

Because, in their experiences, those who had betrayed the most were those who had been the closest to them. Therefore, all that was left was caution, wariness, and distrust, such that now—between father and son—there was no one to turn against but one another.  

“Megumi!” Toji shouted when arriving at the said boy’s door. (Unlike a certain colleague, he at least had the decency to announce his arrival.) 

As expected, however, there came no response. 

He then knocked loudly so that Megumi would hear the sound even with his headphones blasting.

Nothing again.

Exasperated, Toji wiggled the knob. Noticing that the handle was unlocked, he opened the door and into a darkened room. Megumi had switched everything off save for his glaring computer monitor, but the boy wasn’t in his chair either. 

“I don’t really want to talk right now.” 

Instead, Megumi’s grumble came from his bed, to where Toji looked and saw a large blanketed heap. The teenager was cocooned in his sheets, not leaving a single black strand in sight. 

From the small gap amid the lump came another glow.  

He’s on his phone , Toji figured, which he knew among kids these days was the ultimate sign that they wanted to be left alone. 

Except the therapist side in him was not going to give up that easily. 

Idly, Toji flicked at a nearby houseplant. 

“Not talking right now is okay but,” his green gaze shifted from the succulent to the enveloped lump, “trust me on her. She’s on our side.” 

Rather than another outburst, Megumi didn’t reply immediately. “Sure,” he mumbled eventually but hardly convinced, using whatever TikToks he was scrolling through to fill the silence for him. 

“If Tsumiki had been home from university,” Toji continued, this time bringing up the step-sister that the boy adored, “would she want to hear her little brother talk to others like that?”

Another long pause. “Whatever.” 

“I know I had made bad judgments about people before, but—for this one instance—think about what you’ve said tonight,” was what Toji left his son with as he wished Megumi a good night and closed the door behind him with one very extended sigh. 

Being a therapist was tough, but being a single father was a thousand times more wearisome.

Toji would consider calling an end to the evening, to sit in his study as he evaluated his own emotions, but was reminded that he had a guest by shuffling sounds from down the hall.

Knowing that he still owed a small explanation, he paced back to the bathroom, barging into the vicinity to suggest, “Whenever you’re ready, let’s go talk again...down...stairs....” 

His voice trailed off before disappearing completely when he could not locate you.

Rather than finding you by the sink washing your face like he advised and expected, Toji spotted your tossed clothes on the floor. Confused, his gaze darted around until he glanced toward the bathtub where he found your muted form hovering over, frozen like a deer caught in the headlights. 

“I, um,” you blinked rapidly, as though you had been caught doing something bad. “I showered, too.” 

You got flustered too easily, which was adorable. 

The only thing that covered your naked and glistening form was the towel that had been wrapped around your figure, but even that hung low from your chest before stopping abruptly past your hips, leaving little to the imagination. 

In the lamplight, you glowed golden while clinging droplets made your skin shine. Your cheeks and arms were flushed, your body heaving from heavy panting.

You clutched the fabric tighter so that the towel would not merely slip away, but if Toji had to be honest, you would have to hold on to that for dear life so that he didn’t yank the whole damn cover away entirely. 

A shaky breath later, his gaze wandered up your body until his malachite eyes flicked up to collide with yours, his tongue—piercing and all—caught between his teeth. Meanwhile, your mouth was plush and sweetly pursed, softened by a doe-like innocence, and he saw how you trembled slightly from the sudden vulnerability. 

Toji should be able to handle himself better. After watching you break down and then dealing with his personal stressors, the last thing he should feel was the boiling need that burned through his skin, the air in his lungs weighty as if flames from his stomach drifted thick smoke into them. 

Just…leave him alone okay? 

Fuck.  

"Not inviting your host to the party is bad manners,” was what he found himself saying, but the light grin on his face did not match the lust and pink flush that swept across his face.

You cleared your throat as water dripped from your elbows. With every effort, you tried to stay casual. “Sorry.” 

Toji chuckled at how seriously you took the accusation. “Relax, princess. I’m just messing with you.”

All pouty, you looked at him with those huge, round eyes.

“Then, can I ask something while you’re here?”

Intrigued, he lifted a brow. “Depends.”

“Why are you scared to open up to me, Toji?” you pressed on.

The said man didn’t immediately answer, placing his hands inside his pockets instead. He rolled his shoulders back, all without his gaze leaving your intentful one. Sure, you both stared at each other wordlessly—but somehow, in the absence of conversation, the more you two began to understand one another. 

“Simple. I don’t bring up my past to just anybody, darling. Apologies for the disappointment.” 

“But I’m not ‘just anybody,’” you fought back, half-offended. “We’re friends , remember? Just like you had said.” Then, you directed an accusatory finger to his stoic face. “So, I’m somebody special .”

Well, you stumped him now. 

Contemplating an answer, Toji walked around your clothes and met you at the other section in the bathroom, cornering you against the nearby countertop as his brawny body leered over your smaller one. 

When you glanced upward, your warm breaths fanned across his scar. But the heat that whirled between your bodies was far more excruciating, stifling even. 

“What if my reason is to protect you?” He stopped, half-expecting you to cower but all that shone was determination. So, he resumed, “My history is fucked up. I was born into an unlucky situation surrounded by manipulative people, and I was another stupid person making stupid choices. Here I am, still dealing with the blow many years later. I don’t think you’ll want to talk to me again once you learn about the people I share the same blood with."

“But that is them. That is not you . Why would I want to forget you after everything you have done for me?” you vented in disbelief. “Toji, all I want is to help you!”

“Better not to drag yourself into this. You’re already much deeper in the waters than you think,” he admitted with a heavy sigh and ran his hand through his inky hair. “I couldn’t shield my son, and I couldn’t shield my stepdaughter. Therefore, I cannot promise that I would not hurt you, either.”

You fell quiet for a brief moment.

“That’s okay,” you resolved. “Because you…would be worth the pain.”

Toji felt...his heart leap? He had not been this exposed in many, many years, and he reached for your hands so that he could lace your fingers together. His emotions were so fragile and raw , his face only inches away from yours at this point.

"Really now?"

"Yes." A pause. “Then, what…does this mean for us?” 

Toji shrugged, eyeing that stupid fucking wedding band on your fourth digit. “I’m not the married one here, sweetheart. The decision is yours,” he offered up, although he could feel himself grow dizzy. “What do you want?”

In anticipation, your tongue ran across your lower lip. You crept forward and moved closer until your thighs were pressed flush against his.

“ You .”

And boy, did Toji love that answer.

He leaned forward again, this time scooping up your behind and propping you onto the countertop, yanking the pointless towel that had been shielding your goddess-like figure. He gave your hips a good squeeze before tearing your knees in opposite directions. 

You yelped and winced from the discomfort, but Toji knew you loved being maneuvered. Between your legs was a glistening mess, almost as if your pussy had been weeping for him, begging and crying and sobbing for your therapist’s touch. Did you actually think you were going to hide this from him?

When Toji looked up and met your line of sight, he cherished how you peered at him from under your fluttering lashes.

What a beautiful scene. 

So, he smiled. 

“Then why don’t you give daddy a show?”

last chapter || next chapter

end notes: 1) I know you hate me for the cliffhanger, but I had to! 2) For a while, I had been debating whether to write this chapter and the upcoming one in Y/N's or Toji's POV. In the end, I chose Toji's perspective to shine some light into his thoughts when he's with us. See you all again soon! Get ready to get real dirty next chapter. ♡

taglist: @dissociatingdiva @httpsplanetmarsdotcom @nemoyr @huangfairy @shadowarchon @203steph @agentdedf1sh @cloudybabes @hinativity @lynn-writes-things @illicitwriter @7oji @kikuchimi @piqer @nobody289x @chaoticjojofan @musicisme333 @vvestwoodrose @kumocchin @s-guru @mwahilovemylife @hey-gurls69 @cloudsinthecosmos @moon-mumu-moon @kazscara @obitohno @skilerfrostfairy @funicidals @nico707 @proteovaldez @tsukiyohanayome @marimoares @qirbys @blackdragoncigarette @puffaloxx @shoisae @sakanoshitaa @arizzu @kissditrio @tokyometronetwork @downtown-roponggi @the-cosmos-network

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk smut #jjk fluff #jjk angst #jjk season 2 #toji x reader #toji x y/n #toji x you #naoya x reader #geto x reader #choso x reader #sukuna x reader #naoya #geto #sukuna #choso #toji #toji fushiguro #megumi #megumi fushiguro #fushiguro #anime #anime fanfic #anime smut #anime angst #anime fluff #fanfic #fanfiction #jamms.sextherapy

[inkwolvesandcoffee]

Breakfast in Margate (Alfie Solomons x Reader)

Genre: Romance, Fluff, Modern AU

Pairing: Alfie Solomons x Fem!Reader

Word count: 3.2K

Warnings: A grumpy Papa Solomons (yes, that is a warning) and a whole lot of tooth-rotting domestic fluff

Summary:

Mornings aren’t always easy. For example, it’s terribly difficult to not be caught making breakfast for your fiancé, a workaholic who always takes the task upon himself.

However, what makes it harder today is the fact he loathes food made with recipes found online. Fortunately for you, though, Alfie isn’t the only one who’s good at playing games when he wants to push his own agenda.

Especially those that concern a sweet reward.

Author’s note: I've kept Alfie's adherence to his Jewish heritage quite loose. Nevertheless, I hope that the aspects I did incorporate in this work have been done so properly. If not, let me know and please don't hesitate to educate me (in a polite and respectful manner) because I love learning about different cultures and religions.

Tag List: @potter-solomons @zablife @wandawiccan60 @dreamlandcreations @liliac-dreamer @buttercupsandboys @vir-tual @rose-like-the-phoenix @hoodeddreams13 @mollybegger-blog @solomons-finest-rum @hecatemoon87 @babaohhhriley

TH Masterlist

Mornings like this are rare, these quiet moments unbroken by the usual ruckus in the kitchen. Now, it’s solely my bare feet on the wooden floor and the waves crashing onto the shore. No clanging of metal, no muttered curses in Yiddish or Russian, nor the scent of freshly brewed coffee. 

In the living room, Cyril lays in front of the hearth. The first rays of sunshine fall over him like a warm natural blanket, highlighting the ginger undertone in his fur. One of the many features he shares with his owner. 

As soon as I pass by, he lifts his head, tilts it in wonder, and lets out a low bark. After all, it’s Alfie who’s more often than not the first one to wander around the house at the crack of dawn. That is, if he’s slept at all. However, recently he’s started properly adhering to the Shabbat. Although, as much as he allows himself to because if Alfie Solomons is one thing, it’s mighty stubborn. Moreover, he’s an incurable workaholic. As hard as he works at The Old Rum House Bakery to let the business flourish and maintain his position as the fearsome Mad Baker of Camden, just as much effort does he put into our relationship. In fact, it’s not only towards Cyril and I his attention goes, but also to the house.

Our home.

Alfie has become a lot more domestic since we started dating, shortly after meeting one another on a train to London. Disregarding his tendency to walk around naked, he cooks and cleans, assuring me time and again I don’t have to help. When we go out for our weekly grocery trip, no matter how tired he is, he carries the bags to the car so that I don’t have to. Neither do I have to put away what we got, more often than not shipped off to the luxurious red sofa in the living room with a cup of coffee or tea to pair with whatever he’s baked at night. 

Nevertheless, regardless of the otherwise very loose relationship with his heritage, Ollie and I are glad he’s at least taking a day off in the week to rest up. The bakery has recently started taking its toll thanks to an influx in customers, which means extra stock as well as staff is needed. In turn, this means more part-timers to train and more admin work. In other words, everyone has to pick up the pace to meet the current demand. Such is the power of marketing, especially on social media. Alfie is loath to admit it, but Ollie and I can tell he’s secretly grateful we managed to convince him to let us handle the bakery’s socials.

We don’t get cinnamon buns on Monday anymore, though.

I stop in my tracks, turn to Cyril, and put a finger to my lips. “I know, love, but Papa is still sleeping. It’s finally Mama’s turn to make breakfast again.”

Seldom do I get the chance to experiment in the kitchen, let alone try a recipe I’ve found online. Or worse, via Youtube or Instagram. Now, that’s usually enough to make Alfie bristle. Nevertheless, mention the word ‘viral’ and a scowl will twist his lips.

Sometimes I wonder whether or not Alfie and Cyril are the same person because he lowers his head onto his paws and lets out a deep sigh that sounds like sarcastic resignation.

Thanks for the faith, buddy.

“It’s gonna be okay. No fire in the pan this time, I promise. How about we go stretch our legs after brekkie, hm? That sound good?”

Cyril huffs in agreement and closes his eyes, back to enjoying his luxurious pillow. 

We bought it for him when we went antique shop hopping in London last week. Although, perhaps it’s better to say I bought it after convincing my grumpy companion we should occasionally pamper our adopted four-legged child and I couldn’t fix his old pillow anymore. Of course I could, but I was more than done with constantly needing to fix the seams and re-stuff the thing.

Borough Market has become a regular stop on our weekly grocery trip, mostly because I used the splendidly efficient strategy of batting my lashes and pouting. Artisan goods and fresh produce can be luxuries, something to only occasionally splurge on. After all, why spend a fortune when there is a cheaper alternative that’s just as good? 

Nonetheless, Alfie developed a taste for supporting local businesses soon after our first visit. To some he has proposed contracts, offering them a position as a supplier to his bakery. Granted their goods are kosher, of course.

Yesterday, we got some wonderful fresh bright yellow bananas, eggs from a local farm, and oat flour from a mill a little ways away from London. Alfie thought little of it when I plonked them triumphantly in our grocery bag, having occupied himself with the fresh stock one of the florists was setting out. I glance at the colourful bouquet of wildflowers on the table and for a moment I’m back to him holding out to me, face full of the warm tenderness that stands in stark contrast to the stern and unpredictable persona he portrays when I’m not there. 

Right then and there, he wasn’t The Mad Baker of Camden, the fearsome King who rules the borough.

He was a sweet and caring gentleman.

Simply Alfie Solomons.

Nevertheless, in spite of these small moments of tenderness, he can still be awfully grumpy.

Especially if he hasn’t had his coffee.

“Mornin’, dove.” Two big warm hands glide over my hips towards my lower stomach. Those very same palms pull me flush against a naked chest grown soft with neglected muscle, slightly clammy with the remainder of last night’s late summer heat. Alfie presses his lips to the side of my neck and hums, tightening the embrace as he does so. The sonorous trill in his voice sends a shiver down my spine and rekindles a familiar heat. Nonetheless, the way he leans on me betrays he isn’t entirely awake yet. The slight slur in his words serve to confirm the lingering drowsiness, sounding like they’ve been pulled out of bed only moments before too. “That shirt looks good on you.”

“I’m glad you think so because you’re not getting it back any time soon.” I briefly stop mixing the batter to scratch his beard. He closes his eyes and leans into the touch as a content sigh escapes him. “You slept in.”

“Still woke up to an empty spot, though. If you want me to sleep more, yeah, which you know I find a terrible waste of time, I’ll need my wife to ‘old.”

I pat his hands to placate him. The thin gold band inlaid with a modest diamond around my ring finger matches his. I had thought Alfie would pick something elaborate for himself, but instead he chose a simple thick gold ring and got it engraved. It says: Ani l’dodi, v’dodi li; I am my beloved’s and my beloved is mine. “Don’t get hasty. We aren’t married yet.”

“Let’s just go to the courthouse today.’’ He slips his hands beneath the fabric of the shirt I stole from him, letting them rest on my stomach after a brief caress. It’s a gesture he often makes nowadays. ‘‘Sign the paper, right, and be done with it so the desk eaters are ‘appy. We can always celebrate it later. Throw a party as big as the whole of bloody Camden, like a proper coronation ceremony to celebrate our union.”

“Tempting as it is, I’ll have to refuse. Besides, it's Shabbat today and you need to take a break. I promise I can wait a little while longer to officially become Mrs Solomons.”

“You ‘ave been from the start, Y/N. I don’t need a ring to call you my wife. ‘Sides, you well know ‘ow I am. Which reminds me, breakfast is my job, innit?” A wary tone creeps into his voice as he leans away to check what’s in the mixing bowl. “Is that edible?”

“It will be,” I say, continuing to mix the ingredients until they’re well combined.

“I’m not eatin’ that goo. Looks fucking awful, that stuff.”

“It’s healthy goo! Uses the bananas, eggs, and flour we got yesterday.”

Nose scrunched, Alfie peers at me. “Oh, so yesterday was all a little scam to get me to eat whatever this is?”

“You aren’t the only one who can lie. Although, it’s not really a lie, is it? More like a half-truth.’’ I shrug. ‘‘I simply never told you my plan. Would ruin the surprise.”

“Which is?”

“Baked oats that taste like cake. They just haven’t been baked yet.”

“Where’d you get the recipe?”

“YouTube…”

He groans, wide awake now that the conversation has taken a turn towards a point of absolute irritation. “Fucking ‘ell, dove, ‘ow many times ‘aven’t I told you not every recipe on social media-’’

“Don’t judge before you’ve tried it.” I put the spatula down, turn around in his embrace and steal a kiss off of his lips. “Said so yourself, didn’t you?”

“Don’t use my words against me.”

“Oh, I will. If only to keep things fair. Have a little faith in me. It’ll be fine.”

I hope.

A warning finger raised and pointed at me, he leans in until our faces are mere inches apart. “Fine. But I’m gonna make us coffee, right, so we’ll at least ‘ave something to get us fucking started.”

I can’t suppress a chuckle at the grumpy gesture. “Sure.”

The threat turns into tenderness when he cups my cheek. His palm has grown rough with the hours spent at the bakery, proof of his hard work. Tenderly, he presses his lips to mine. “Ikh hab dir lib.”

“I know.” To show I accept his usual indirect apology for his bad mood and avoid coming across as being cross with me, I run my fingers along his jaw. “I love you too.”

Resting his forehead against mine, he nudges my nose with his. “Mhm.”

“Why don’t you take Cyril for a brief walk, eh? The oats have to bake for twenty-five minutes anyway.”

“We can take ‘im on a walk later together. I’ll go set the table.”

“First put on a pair of knickers.”

“No.”

“You know the rules, Alfie. No buns on the chairs during summer.”

“I ain’t sweating.”

“Not yet.”

“Maybe you’re the one who isn’t.”

I cock an eyebrow, fighting the smug smirk threatening to break out. “That so?”

“Yeah,” he drawls, “first we’ll ‘ave coffee, right, ‘cause otherwise neither of us functions. Now, ‘ow about after we’ve started the day proper I’ll fuck you like last night, hm?”

Until I black out. 

The prospect of it mixes with memories of last night. Sea blue eyes, usually so steady and full of hidden temperaments, barely able to refrain from going cross-eyed. The fight with the stutter in his hips, gradually growing closer to the edge of pleasure but also exhaustion. Big hands reminiscent of wolf paws gripping the headboard for support while I was already lost in a satisfied delirium. The absent-minded glance to the bruises on my thighs adds to the steadily growing heat between my legs, perversely longing for more.

For him.

Nevertheless, the haze clears in an instant with a single sharp thought. I take a step back, crossing my arms as I search his expression for confirmation. However, as usually is the case, Alfie keeps his true motifs to himself. And this time, behind a mask he tends to put on when he wants something from me in particular. “So you can make breakfast. That’s what you’re getting at, aren’t you?”

“No,” he purrs, stealing a kiss as soon as he has bridged the distance between us, “not at all, dove. I just want my wife. I wanna make love to you.” We softly start to sway, slowly making our way out of the kitchen. “Let me make love to you.”

We come to a halt on the threshold. “Later. After you put on a pair of knickers and we’ve eaten.”

He blinks, the cheeky smile grown stiff. I can feel his muscles tense, unconsciously causing him to grip me a bit tighter than before. “But-’’

“Knickers, Alfie.”

“One round.”

“Alfred Solomons Jr, knickers. Right now.”

The use of his full name provokes a menacing snarl, the kind which is usually preserved for those who cross him. “Those oats better be fucking worth it, yeah, ‘cause otherwise you’re payin’ for lunch.”

I trace his cock, the skin hot and hardening beneath my fingertips with every sharp intake of breath. Perhaps this game won’t go on for as long as it usually does before he loses control. “Somehow I don’t think I will.”

He roughly grips my face, the thrill of every low-voiced word against my lips travelling throughout my body. “I ought to do somethin’ ‘bout that attitude of yours. Big fucks small, Y/N, always.”

Game over.

Except for the one card I have left to play.

“I know,” I wrap my hand around him, barely able to grip him properly, “but first some knickers. Please, Papa?”

“Clever bird, ain’t ya?” He growls into the kiss when I lightly squeeze him and let go. “Maybe I should carry out my own personal form of stigmata later. Add to those pretty bruises.”

Like snow in the spring sun, his attitude melts and changes. Alfie gently nudges my cheek and makes for the bedroom. A few moments later, he returns and starts setting the table while I pour the batter in the ramekins and plop them in the oven.

Despite the promise to make coffee, I reach for the cupboard to grab a mug. After all, old habits die hard.

Nevertheless, I find myself cut off by a hand that gently lowers mine, away from the handle.

“I said I’ll make us coffee,” Alfie grumbles. “Let Papa Solomons do ‘is job, yeah. Go sit in the livin’ room. I’ll be there shortly.”

I nod at the baking aftermath in the sink. “I got some washing up to do.”

“Nah, that can wait. Coffee and, ‘opefully, food first.” He places his hands on my shoulders and kindly coerces me out of the kitchen. “Go on.”

I let him guide me, feigning defiance by pouting. Yet, the act quickly falls apart with a lighthearted giggle. I suppose I still have a lot to learn from him concerning the art of masks. “Alright.”

Soon after he joins me on the porch, where I’ve settled down with Cyril to enjoy the salt air. The beach across the street is still empty, devoid of the plethora of towels. The breeze is silent, not yet filled with the chatter of tourists and locals alike.

These hours are ours.

This is our Margate.

“'Ere you go, love.” Alfie hands me a steaming mug of cappuccino with an extra shot of espresso, the milk soft and foamy, before he sits down next to me. I rest my head on his shoulder and close my eyes as I take a sip. “Nice, innit?”

“Mhm.”

Thus we sit in comfortable silence, enjoying the view and each other’s company. Cyril has started to doze off, although he tries in vain to keep his eyes open. One glance to the side tells of Alfie fighting the same battle. Occasionally he pulls a face or lifts his hand to stifle a yawn. It’s strangely funny to watch him continue to take a sip afterwards, a small gesture of hope. Surely he should be readily awake before his cup is empty.

Because sleeping isn’t an option.

He’s tired of the nightmares.

The faint sound of the oven going off disturbs the domestic bliss.

Alfie groans as struggles to get up, glad to have my arm to use as support while he pulls himself to his feet. I say nothing, knowing full well how his sciatica influences his mood.

And it’s already rotten enough in the morning.

As Alfie washes his hands, I get the baked oats out of the oven and place them on the plates. Meanwhile, Alfie warms up a few slices of babka and the challah bread we made together yesterday. “Just so we ‘ave somethin’.”

He sits down while I wash my hands. From the corner of my eye, I see him poke the oats with his fork. “It’s kosher?”

“It is,” I say, drying my hands before I sit down across from him. “Shall I go first?”

“Very funny.” He scoops a bit of the oats onto his fork and puts it in his mouth. His brows knit together, contemplating the taste.

“And? Do you like it?” 

Remaining silent and gaze fixed on the ramekin, he pokes his oats again. 

I swallow hard, my excitement crushed under the stones of dread. A nagging voice in the back of my head feeds into the fear of his judgement. Funny how one connects their self worth to food. Then again, it was that which started our relationship. A cup of coffee, a slice of babka, and a slice of plant-based carrot cake. Back then, though, my stomach didn’t quiver this badly nor did my ribs feel like they were caged in a very tight-strung corset. “You don’t.”

“Dove,” he begins, but doesn’t continue. 

Not until after he’s had another bite. “It’s good.”

“I can’t tell if you’re being serious or simply trying to appease me.”

“I’m serious.”

“You are?”

“I am,’’ he says, raising his voice ever so slightly in spite of the effort to keep it even. Alfie finally meets my gaze and I can tell he’s being sincere regardless of the way he accusingly waves his fork at me. ‘‘But I still don’t like 'ow you got this off of the internet. ‘Ow many times ‘aven’t I told you, hm? You should know better by now.”

I chuckle as I at last taste the baked oats myself. They’re chocolatey with a subtle banana undertone, which is warmed by the cinnamon. “I gotta find new recipes somehow.”

“There are cookbooks.”

“Too limited and they take up too much space.” While nibbling on a piece of challah bread, I take a sip of coffee. “Can I make this more often?”

“It does taste like cake,” he reluctantly admits, spooning up another bite. “Yes, you can.”

“Why do you make it sound like there’s a condition?”

“You can make these oats, yeah, if I get to serve you something sweet in return.”

Something not to be had in the kitchen.

‘‘Deal,’’ I lean in, biting my lip as I play my final card, ‘‘Papa.’’

Alfie clenches his fork upon hearing his favourite nickname, the title he is secretly proud of. A dark haze clouds his eyes, the gloss in them highlighted by the morning sun. The smirk on his lips has evened out, his jaw tightened with the effort to practise self-restraint. 

Game over.

I won.

And the prize is something sweet with lots of cream.

#alfie solomons #alfie solomons imagine #peaky blinders #peaky blinders imagine #alfie solomons x reader

[eaglyn]

Strictly A Business Relationship | Alhaitham x reader smut and confession

Warning: drinking, drunk sex, no use of protection Summary: It took Alhaitham several months to warm up to you, but it only took him one night of heavy drinking to actually confess. Not proofread :)

Today was a day like any other. Sitting at your desk, receiving papers, filling papers, sending out papers, making several trips from the library to your office, so on and so forth. All within of your job description as... nobody knows.

You were just Y/n. The Sages knew you as Y/n, the students and researchers know you as Y/n, everyone knew you as Y/n. Some people called you the 'Jack of All Trades', as anything from cataloguing new information to taking care of official papers, occasionally supervising experiments, keeping track of certain area's monthly expenses and research funding was your responsibility. It became a motto within the Akademiya: You have a problem? Go to Y/n!

Since you did practically every job that nobody volunteered to do part-time, you had quite the network. Everybody knew and trusted you, and therefore you could get any information you wanted, only dreaming about having the freedom to turn against this accursed institution and destroy it from within with all the information you had.

It's through this can of baked beans that you call a job that you managed to get acquainted with the Akademiya's Scribe, Alhaitham. At first, you found him rather peculiar. He was completely objective towards everything, and it seemed like he didn't have emotions at all. He just stated factual information in the most indifferent manner as possible, and emphasis on factual, since nothing left his mouth that couldn't be backed up with a ton of evidence and research. He was so smart it surprised you.

Upon some sort of miracle, many of the free work spots that you filled in for were taken, as such the Grand Sage offered you a new position that would give you more opportunities to showcase your own genius. Your title was still basically the same 'Ask-Me-To-Solve-Your-Problems Y/n', but now you at least had a job description, and a higher salary.

Your new job was looking through submissions of findings and categorizing them, supervising experiments and making sure they are done according to the submitted thesis and ensuring that the experiment materials were used and not repurposed illegally, and being a witness any time people from the Akademiya got in trouble and were handled by the Mahamatra, making records of the case in the process and maintaining a portfolio of them.

You could also be called 'I-Just-Stand-Here-And-Nod Y/n', but occasionally you did have important things to do. Like the one time you teamed up with Alhaitham. It was unexpected, but not unpleasant. His job as Scribe and your job as... whatever you were happened to intertwine, leading you to to go on an errand or two together and end up back at your place to go over all the findings.

After a while, he grew to respect the extent of your knowledge, eventually seeing you as an equal. Over the years of having a job as chaotic as yours, you also developed his way of reacting to things, the exception being that you acted like you cared. The way he saw you was an absolute genius who could still lower herself down to other people's level, entertain their menial ideas, pretend to be invested in their meaningless eventual turmoil, without ending up as a gossip point.

You were a beacon of trust within a giant web of people, and Alhaitham being so unconventional, you were like his equal opposite in personality. So modest, graceful, kind and trustworthy, and he started getting drawn to that.

Eventually your attitude of not losing your humanity rubbed off on him, but only when he was around you. He claimed he didn't care about anything or anyone, but when it came to you, he cared.

At first, it was small changes in his behavior like smiling occasionally when he was with you, thanking or complimenting you when he felt it was necessary. Then it became a habit of you two to go out to a bar and have a few drinks after a long afternoon brainstorming session.

You were a lightweight compared to him when it came to alcohol, so he'd act disappointed when placing his arm around your shoulder as he walked you home, only to maintain his image.

After some time, he'd find it easier to loosen up around you as opposed to staying as he usually was. Whenever you two were out drinking, he'd place his arm around your waist, and as he was walking you home, he'd give you a piggyback ride or carry you in his arms if he deemed you too drunk or too tired.

Once the project the two of you had been working on was over, you two once again went out drinking, but having drunk way more than the usual, Alhaitham couldn't be bothered to care about Kaveh's future remarks, he just walked you to his house, as yours was too far away.

After wobbling into his house, he noticed that Kaveh was probably out tonight, as such he grabbed a few beers and headed to his room in case his roommate would come back. You two continued popping bottle after bottle, to the point when even Alhaitham was seriously drunk. He wasn't your type of drunk. You were the type of drunk that found everything way too funny, while Alhaitham was just clingy. He sat on his bed, holding your waist as you laid with the back of your head against his stomach.

"Hehee, you look funny upside down." You said, looking up at him.

"What is that supposed to mean?" He raised his eyebrows, leaning closer to you.

"You're still pretty, it's just funny." You said after concluding that upside down Alhaitham was just as pretty as regular Alhaitham. It probably wasn't even the alcohol in your system, after all the angle didn't change the fact that his hair was nice and silky, it didn't change the mesmerizing color of his eyes, or his perfect lips.

"Upside down Y/n isn't bad either." You started giggling after hearing this.

"I'm not upside down, silly, you are. I'm normal." You reached up to tap the tip of his nose with your pointer finger.

"If you say so, normal Y/n." You blinked twice at him after he said this.

"I'm always normal, why do you emphasize?" You raised your eyebrows, and he just shrugged. All the alcohol in his brain added onto the fact that you were there made his natural, arrogant responses turn off.

For a while, you two just sat there silently until you decided that you were bored of your current position, so you sat up beside him, only for him to lean onto your shoulder and hug your torso.

"You're very pretty, Alhaitham." You giggled at him after looking down at his face for a while. Your sudden statement made him look up at you. "You have very pretty eyes, a pretty nose and very nice hair. And you also have pretty lips. 10/10, very kissable looking."

For once, he was blushing. While the look on his face didn't change, the redness in his cheeks was not something you could miss.

"Hehe, you're blushing!" You said before pinching his cheeks.

"Ow... Why did you do that?" His words fell on deaf ears as you just continued to squish different parts of his face with your hand before you just settled on playing with his hair.

"I want to ask you something, Y/n." He said out of the blue, completely seriously.

"What is it?" His tone indicated that it wasn't time for you to start joking.

"What am I... to you?" His question almost made you sober up in a sense as you looked at him in the eyes.

"I mean... you're Alhaitham. We've been working together for a while now, but we also hang out after work. And the way we're just laying here, essentially cuddling isn't quite friend behavior either. I don't know. That's the most concrete answer I can give." He nodded and swallowed. "Why? What am I to you?" You asked.

"When I met you, I was interested to see why you were so popular among everyone despite having a seemingly ordinary job. At first, I didn't think much of you, but as we were working on this case together, I realized that you were insanely smart. You are just like me, you're a genius. But even so you can remain so compassionate. You act so human around other people, despite the fact that even you yourself see their problems as meaningless. Everyone trusts and admires you, and rightfully so. I feel like you've shown me that that the part of me that I've always seen as a weakness, an inconvenience is actually good." He said, and now you were the one with tomato cheeks.

"Aww, I appreciate that." You said.

"Truthfully, I need you, Y/n. You complete me." He said, looking into your eyes with utmost sincerity.

You slowly leaned in, pressing your lips against his, one hand buried in his hair and the other tracing the muscles on his back while he just held you close. The way his lips felt on yours had your head in the sky while your stomach was spinning in circles. He was craving you, evidently so.

His hands wandered to your thighs, easily lifting you onto his lap without even breaking the kiss, then he placed his hands on your hips, pulling you even closer. You hummed against his lips as he squeezed your hips, gripping his hair before finally pulling away, breathing heavily.

"Y/n." He said looking you in the eye. "I have to warn you that if we kiss one more time, I won't be able to stop myself. The decision is yours, Y/n. We either go back to just hanging out or we can give in to our desires. You choose."

You nodded, evaluating whether or not it would be a good idea to sleep with someone in your current state. Then again, it was Alhaitham, not just 'someone'. With that, you crashed your lips against his, wrapping your legs around his waist as you sat in his lap. Suddenly the smell of him was even more intoxicating, along with the fact that he was so close to you.

A few months ago if someone told you that in the near future you'd be sitting in Alhaitham's lap, making out with him in his bed, you would've called them crazy. But now, here you were.

He groaned as you pulled on his hair, squeezing your butt as his other hand wandered up to your breasts, feeling them through the fabric of your dress. Since it was an off the shoulder dress, he could easily just pull the neckline down and expose your breasts. The cool air in his room hitting your exposed nipples made them harden while shivers were sent down your spine as he started fondling them with his hand. In the meantime, you could also feel his erection bulging through the fabric of his pants, and you only wanted more.

You started rocking, rubbing yourself against his crotch, chasing after every bit of friction, almost melting when you heard him groan deeply. The way he had you wrapped around his finger had your mind spinning, and you could only imagine what it would feel like to have him inside you.

He soon break free, but only to strip off his clothes, while you did the same. Lucky for you, you only had your dress and your panties, so you sat back down on the bed, watching him undress. You couldn't tear your eyes away from the way his muscles flexed every time he moved, and you could feel your imagination running free. While you valued your dignity, you totally wouldn't mind being bent over a desk by this man, even if half of the Akademiya saw. And you had him all for yourself.

He finally turned towards you with the last of his clothes discarded, and you felt your eyes being glued to his crotch. It was bigger than any you've seen before. It had to be at least eight inches, thick with veins, and a tip that was oozing with precum.

He just had a grin on his face as he observed the look in your eyes. "Don't worry, I'll be gentle." He said, walking over to the bed. He signaled for you to lay down before opening your legs and getting on his knees.

"You're wet." He said before proceeding to drag his tongue over your slit. He looked you straight in the eyes as he dove in, sucking on your clit while his fingers ghosted over your thighs, making you shiver. It didn't take long before you were moaning at every swirl of his tongue around your clit, and even more so whenever he licked over your opening, teasing to push his tongue in before going back to your clit. You could feel a knot forming in your stomach, but just before you could finally cum, he pulled himself away, once again looking you straight in the eye as he used his thumb to clean his face and lick everything off.

You gulped as he climbed on top of you, nervous because of the size, but also boiling with anticipation because of the climax he robbed you of. He teased your clit by rubbing his tip against it before aligning himself with your entrance and slowly pushing in. He was huge.

He moved very slowly, pushing it in inch by inch and stopping to let you adjust after every inch. The way he stretched you out hurt, causing you to scrunch your eyebrows. Seeing your expression, he leaned down to press a small kiss on your chin before pulling out and slowly pushing you in.

He started moving at a slow and steady pace. It was still a little painful, but the pain was quickly shifting to pleasure as his veins rubbed against your walls. It all felt like a fever dream. He looked insanely attractive as it was, but something about the way his naked body towered on top of you made you want to scream.

"You good?" He asked, looking up at you with a lustful, but patient gaze. You just nodded in response and waited for him to start moving again.

This time his pace was a little faster than before, but it was still overall slow and steady. You were trying to stay quiet which ended as soon as he leaned down to start sucking hickeys onto your neck. He supported himself with one hand while the other kept squishing your breasts and pinching your nipples. This combination was simply too much for your mind and body to handle, as such you quickly turned into a moaning mess as Alhaitham continued rocking his hips against yours.

You barely even realized that he'd moved you when he flipped you on top of him. He was sitting with his back against the bedframe and positioned you on top of him, hands on either side of your butt. You used your hand to direct his dick to your entrance before lowering yourself onto him, releasing a soft moan in the process.

He once again buried his face in your chest, kissing your neck, your breasts, sucking on your nipples all the while guiding your hips with his strong hands. He paired that with the movement of his own hips, and soon you were back to moaning out loud every time your pubes made contact. He was so deep inside you that you could feel his tip kissing your cervix each time. You started craving more, taking control of your hip movements and starting to move a lot quicker, and he soon got the idea, matching his pace to yours.

It was like an itch in inside you that needed to be scratched, but nothing was enough. That was until he held your hips down tightly and started thrusting up into you at an insane speed. Sounds of skin slapping and moaning from both parties filled the room, and you could feel yourself tightening around him as you threw your head back and squeezed your eyes shut.

"You're... so tight." He said, continuing this pace for about ten more seconds before both of you had climaxed. You were seeing stars and your walls were pulsating around him, sucking every bit of his cum out of his dick. The sensation of being filled with cum was something you didn't know how to even describe, but it had you hugging Alhatiham close, still heaving for air.

"That was amazing." You said, resting your chin on top of his head, giving him a face full of boobs.

"Yeah..." He said. "Let's get you cleaned up."

He cleaned you up and gave you one of his t-shirts and a pair of boxers to sleep in before he himself put on a pair of pajama shorts and climbed into bed next to you, covering the both of you with a blanked and holding you close. Your mind wandered back to the conversation that lead to this spectacular experience in the first place.

"Alhaitham, remember what you asked me?"

"Hm? Oh you mean when I asked what I mean to you." He responded, almost half asleep.

"I think I have an answer. To me, you are the one I love." You said, placing your hand on top of his hand that laid on your stomach.

"I love you too, Y/n." He said, then placed a kiss on the back of your head.

"Hehe, I'm no longer single." You giggled once again, but this time it was more because of how tired you were. "I managed to bag Alhaitham! Al-fucking-haitham! Can you believe it, Alhaitham?"

You heard him chuckle quietly, which made you do a little victory dance in your head.

"Sleep, Y/n." He said, and you muttered a 'fine' under your breath before closing your eyes and falling asleep within a few seconds.

Both of you were severely hungover when you woke up in the morning, but Alhaitham went to prepare breakfast for the two of you while you stayed in bed, rubbing the sleepiness out of your eyes. He soon came back to tell you that breakfast is done, and you got out of bed walking out of his room with a big stretch and a yawn.

Unbeknownst to either of you, Kaveh, his roommate was coming out of his room, to the living room just then. Poor man would've never expected seeing Y/n from the Akademiya being there in none other than Alhaitham's clothes. As such, he screeched. "AAAH! Y/n from the Akademiya? What are you doing here?" You knew Kaveh, there have been times when he had to interact with you for certain jobs.

Alhaitham walked to you and hugged you from behind, looking Kaveh in the eyes before saying: "She's my girlfriend."

"What? Is this true? Blink twice if he paid you to act." Kaveh said, looking at you, but you just blankly stared at him without blinking.

"I'm pretty sure I have a higher salary than him, he can't bribe me with money. So yes, it's true." You finally responded, making Kaveh once again turn his attention back to his roommate.

"But how? When?" He was absolutely, positively flabbergasted.

"I'm simply better at talking to women than you are." Alhaitham said with a completely straight face, and you were just entertained to watch this whole drama unfold.

"No. That's not true. Amani from the Spatamad Darshan is going to confess to me any way now!" He crossed his arms in front of his chest.

"You've been saying that for half a year now." Alhaitham responded while you just giggled in his arms.

"You- How dare you?" Kaveh said, storming off, while you and Alhaitham just went to the kitchen to have breakfast.

You were certain that your life will never be boring again.

#genshin x reader #fanfic #confessions #romance #reader insert #female reader #genshin impact #alhaitham #alhaitham x reader #alhaitham x you #alhaitham x y/n #smut #eventual smut #drunk #tw drinking #genshin alhaitham #genshin kaveh #kaveh #alhaitham and kaveh bickering

[butchoftheoldgods]

Can I get some advice, ofc say no or ignore this message of you don’t want to answer!! No pressure!!

I am just getting into deity worship and feel a strong connection towards Lady Artemis, as I wish to embrace my freedom and strength as a woman. But I’m afraid as I am in a loving relationship with a man. I know this is a silly question and I apologize for sounding ignorant, but I don’t want to do anything to disgrace or offend Her. Is it best to not work with her because of this relationship or can I still be a devotee of the maiden goddess despite not being a maiden myself? Again I know this is dumb but I’m new to all this and truly do not want to offend anybody.

Hey! First of all, welcome. Thank you for reaching out to me, your questions could never be dumb and it is always a pleasure to talk to fellow women who would like to worship Lady Artemis. Okay, I have two things I want to say to you;

First of all, you absolutely can worship Artemis while in a committed relationship with a man. Artemis looks over all sorts of life stages for women and girls — including the pains of childbirth, for example. The way She watches over us is put very well by the book Lesbian Mythology that I was reading the other day:

You can still devote time and effort and offerings to Lady Artemis while being in a relationship with a man. She can guide you to keep your own needs and identity close and She will protect you. I know that in ancient times there were certain rituals or positions of Priesthood that you could not be in unless you were chaste or actively abstaining from sex for a certain period of time, but you do not need to worry about such centralised practices for the time being; the groups behind them are not really around anymore and, should you find out about a specific thing you want to do, you can cross the bridge when you get to it. Your practice is your own and you choose the rituals you want to engage in. Ultimately, as long as you’re a woman there is nothing that stands between you and your worship of Lady Artemis.

Second of all, I think it is very important that you are going about your worship in such a respectful manner. Something I think you should know as you’re getting into deity worship is that “mistakes” are bound to happen. You will inevitably fall asleep before making the offering you said you would make, you will feel like your altar is too empty, you will forget to offer for a few days because work has been busy. All these things are human, and the Gods know; so long as everything you do comes out of love and respect, you will generally not offend anybody. That being said, do make an offering if you ever feel like you’ve done something wrong, it’s good manners.

Feel free to reach out to me if you’d like more advice or just to talk about this stuff, and enjoy this new start in your worship!

PS. I am by no means an expert on any of this stuff. I love to grow my knowledge and to read, but I would never claim to know everything. If somebody knows more than me feel free to correct me/ add on to my post, I would love to hear you out.

#hellenic pagan #hellenic polytheism #hellenic religion #hellenic polytheistic #hellenic reconstructionism #hellenic revivalism #hellenism #hellenismos #paganism #artemis #Artemis worship #artemis devotion #Artemis deity #lady artemis

[gumballavocadoharry]

Harry teaching his baby; Headcanon:

Ik I haven't done these in awhile, but last night, I wrote out a bunch of ideas for several and this is one of many!!!!

Compassion. The first person alongside you to show them compassion and understanding. That would be evident in their teen years when they start making more serious mistakes. Harry would always be there and make sure his tone, words and expressions were all in tune with his deep concern and love for them.

Intelligence. Harry is a very smart and wise man. No doubt, common sense is essential for him and making sure his children have it is one of his goals.

Kindness. Is a big one for him! Treat people with kindness is his motto and what better example than to treat his own child with kindness. Spoiling them at times, but speaking kindly, mildly, generously and patiently and acting on it is what he knows his child will look at.

Patience. When he needs to repeat things over and over, or when they're throwing a tantrum....he tries hard not yell or scream or say something irrational. When disciplining them, he's mild and reasonable and firm.

Humbleness. He listens to his children and takes their feelings into consideration always. He'll ask their opinions and will make choices with them.

Boldness. Harry has a natural outgoing personality, but when he notices his child lags behind in courage, he's right there to guide them and give them that self boost.

Affectionate. Harry's a HUGE example in this as he loves to smother his child in kisses and hugs, especially when they really need it. Words of encouragement and "I love you's" are always said daily and so are notes of what his child likes for their meals or as a present. He is vocal and physical about his love and his children never have to wonder.

Thankful. Harry does this by telling his children that he's thankful for them everyday and that they are the best gift he could've ever asked for. "I don't know what I did to deserve you, but I'm so grateful for you and you make me so proud to be your daddy everyday."

Positive. He teaches this by being positive about the little things in life. Like the flowers or a sunny day.

Classy. By having manners and showing courtesy to others, he sets an example of being a gentleman.

Silly. Harry's a natural goofball anyway so it comes easy for him when he makes funny faces or blow raspberries on their tummy. He jokes around and it raises their spirits on a bad day.

Free expression. Harry wants his children to express themselves and never feel hindered to keep things inside. He especially wants them to come to him and talk about their feelings.

Honesty. Harry makes a point to be honest and truthful with everything, so he expects the same from his child.

Self-aware. He's been through honest self reflection of himself and no doubt wants his children the have the same thing. To know and discover who they are and what they expect from themselves.

Loyalty. Harry keeps his promises and so when his child promises something that they can't keep, harry teaches them how to make it up.

Self-control. As hard as it would be for Harry in keeping them in check, he would have to let them see that they need self-control in their emotions, wants and needs. So despite them screaming or crying they're heads off for a toy, he's calm and reserved in showing them that they can't always get what they want.

Ethics. Harry has strong morals in certain things and he sticks to them even in the face of pressure. So he would teach his child how to be strong and firm with theirs.

Strength. In times of pain or pressure, Harry no doubts wants his kid to be strong enough to stand up to the trails.

Love. The most important lesson of all Harry teaches them. To love themselves, others, animals, flaws and all. He teaches them to have respect and kindness towards people and to be humble and sufficient in holding onto meaningful relationships and their dignity. To be happy, healthy and mature topped off with character is what makes Harry the most proud.

The best teacher he could be is their father in showing them that there is NO ONE in this world he could or would love more than them.

#harry styles #harry styles imagine #dad!harry #dadrry #harry styles and yn #daddy's baby #harry headcanons #harry styles headcanon #daddy and baby #two against the world

[lesbiansforboromir]

Ahh, I’m happy. First episodes of Rings of Power are a few steps above my expectations and I had a really good time watching it, which was all I really wanted to begin with. Numenor hasn’t even arrived onscreen and I’m already pretty invested. 

I was actually surprised by how much I liked the Harfoot plotline, I had expected to find it really irritating and extraneous but it was so delightful to watch I was taken in. I think it was Lenny Henry’s influence, his acting was great and i’m really attached to Sadoc already. I’m STILL not sold on old meteorman Gandalf, mainly because I don’t want to see fuckin Gandalf, but also because he DOES feel very extraneous to the plot they’re driving towards. But the scenes with him are still well acted and seeing how big he is in comparison to Nori is endearing too. Liked being able to decipher the Quenya words for blessed and heat in there, which I assume was him trying to explain stars. 

Oh it’s so humiliating... I do like Lindon 😔 they are using the set really well and the shots are sumptuous and filled with interesting detail. Also good GOD I love elf politics, I love incredibly elevated elven speech that’s just so elaborate that they sound like they’re in a Shakespearean play at all times. (some of the proverbs are a little over the top but still). Yes they SHOULD sound that ridiculous. I am also very much enjoying Elrond’s character and the way they have interpreted his ‘Herald’ position in Gil-Galad’s court. Speech writer and little busy body to be sent to solve problems. I think the promos really did a disservice in calling him ‘politically ambitious’. It’s technically true but on it’s own it doesn’t accurately describe his motives, he’s being invested in his people and wanting to help. He’s a young but very noble elf and full of optimism and love for all things! He’s excited to be of use! Maybe a little too invested! Hah.  

Celebrimbor also I like so much, he’s got this 1920′s dandy vibe, he certainly feels like a jewelsmith to me. His mannerisms are so endearing and sharp, and when he speaks about the things he’s passionate about the actor actually manages to get this feeling of... a glint in his eye? Like he’s generating his own energy talking about it, very autistic of him, I love it. And I especially appreciate this much more emotive and engaged portrayal after the disastrous Shadow of Wardor nonsense. I respect them going for the precise opposite character. He even fucking cares about people beyond elves! Cares about middle-earth in fact! Oh and also! With his excitable dialogue surrounding dwarves, I have been given new hope that we WILL be seeing Narvi in later seasons. Indeed, these two episodes have really solidified in my mind what they’ve done to the timeline. It’s ALL contracted, including a lot of the aspects of characters we expect, their development has been reclaimed for the show to walk us through. We’ll see how that plays out as the years go by but I can see the logic of doing it that way. 

THE DWARVES! Oh my days the dwarves. Every dwarf scene was so gorgeous and Durin’s actor has a way of settling his body into the costume that makes him feel heavy, durable and powerful. I’ve really gone on a 180 about his design. Even this rock breaking contest, which always felt really silly to me, actually is implemented in a way that I really enjoy. Disa is just... I can’t stop thinking about her, Sophia Nomvete matches Durin’s energy so perfectly and the way she uses her eyes is simply entrancing. I just want to watch them all the time. I also really loved the cameo of a bust of the dragon helm of dor lomin being paraded around by Durin’s children. I hope we get more of them too, can’t see enough dwarf children. The idea Durin just has replica heads lying around? Did he make them? Is it a hobby? I’m delighted. 

But I can’t talk about Durin without mentioning his and Elrond’s relationship. A while back I commented on twitter that the way the promo material discussed it, it sounded like Durin was Elrond’s jilted lover and I joked about the idea that Elrond had just... forgotten about how time passes for Durin, causing Durin to feel entirely abandoned and to move on and get married..... WELL! don’t I feel like Apollo struck me with the gift of prophecy. The emotion within the elevator scene alone... the genuine pain in Durin’s voice, the heartbreak on Elrond’s face as he hears it! I lived a life in that time, a life you missed! I was surprised the show was able to drag out real feelings from me this early on. The way Disa is trying to heal this rift between them too. I’m so fond of all of them and I now even more cannot wait for the Elrond/Durin/Disa polycule fanfic. What twists and turns of fate. 

The Southlands gave me slurs for elves so I will be forever grateful to them, although I was looking for something a little more imaginative than pointies. Would have liked something derogatory ABOUT immortality. And damn! We’re really going for racist elves! Love it honestly! I’m pretty shocked that they aren’t veering away from the textual ‘blood will out’ narratives. Elves really be inventing Faramir’s Darkmen/Middlemen/highmen paradigm as we speak. I also love mean elves, I love watching elves be snappy at each other, in general I love the expansion of what it means to be an elf outside of the heroic nobility we’ve only seen up until now. It’s a great elf portrayal! I love the mention of artificers by Arondir, elves usually expecting their bodies to heal on their own, but needing elf therapy to tend to much more fragile souls. As for Arondir and Bronwyn themselves? They are sweet and I do like the way they put their relationship into a historical context, but I want to see more of them enjoying each other’s company. Certainly I like Arondir and Bronwyn as characters on their own but I want to get to know them better.

I think the MAJOR issue I have with this show at the moment is definitely how thick it feels. All the plot threads are good and I can see how they are all going to tie into one another, I can even see how the entire arch will feed into the eventual Akallabeth, but it’s SO MUCH to get through. I’m feeling nervous about there being only 6 episodes left in season 1. I wanted more breathing room between major plot points and whilst I was surprised by the amount of character I was able to glean from such short scenes, I was still left wanting more time to explore the more complex aspects of each of the situations.

I think the southlands suffered from this the most. You are left unsure what to think about morgoth worship, whether it’s active in the village, are the elves right to hold them hostage like this or is it because of their actions that they are turning back to those dark ways? It’s definitely an uncomfortable aspect to work through and I just felt it needed more time and care than it’s gotten at the moment. And it means that, despite how much I like it, I actually still feel like the Harfoot storyline was a thread too far. I would like to know about entwives and such, but I just don’t think the show has the time. 

STILL annoyed about Durin III and Durin IV existing alongside each other. I would like to know how they’ll explain it or if they even will, but for now it’s a niggle that I can’t quite let go of. 

I’m not sure how to feel about the whole Valinor thing, because on the one hand... religious overtures are DEFINITELY the right vibe for it, the more uncomfortable the better, there’s even a slightly offkey singer amongst the choir in the soundtrack for Valinor, and an ominous scary part to the music too, but it’s still... A LOT. I suppose it also enabled them to not show Valinor again and so forth. And honestly I am intrigued by the treatment of returning to Valinor being a reward for exemplary service, it’s kind of inline with canon and creates to me a very strange and intriguing dynamic. BUT... Valinor is so hard to get right, we’ll see if it comes up again. 

I think that’s all I have to say! All in all, as I said, the show was fun and it was absolutely what I was looking for after House of the Dragons reminded me why I fell off of Game of Thrones in the first place. I would just like a little universal meta morality in my fantasy shows.

#the rings of power #the rings of power spoilers #rings of power #rings of power spoilers #rop #erran vs rop #text post #long post

[girl-in-the-chairs-void]

The first time you met Bob's family was as his best friend. he'd been planning to go home right after your posting together in some desert and on a calm night when both of you were having your dinner in your respectful cabins, he had called you from the landline and asked you if you wanted to go home with him. Of course you said yes. He was a sweetheart and a gentleman and you thought it was you duty to thank the people who had raised him so well. so you went from one hot desert to another, at his family ranch. It was beautiful, the huge concrete house built on a step foundation, a stable just near by with acres of land for the horses and various animals to stroll in. his family had welcomed you like their own. You'd forgotten how good it felt to be admired by so many people, his grandmother was one of the first to greet you. "Ohhh, look at you pretty girl. You goaled a nice one here Bobby." ofcourse she thought that the first girl that bob had brought home after years was his girlfriend. but you were happy to explain to her that you both were just friends (desperately trying to decay the feeling in your chest that had first started when you started seeing him with other girls), to which she gave Bob a cheeky side eyed smile.

then there were his parents, his mom was the sweetest person, treated you like her own daughter the second you stepped out of Bob's truck and onto the rough, sandy road. She’d hugged you and said “so this is the famous Y/n you never shut up about.” Causing you to give Bob a look of bewilderment, the man beside you was neck deep in blush but dismissed it as a friendly gesture from his mother and said that she was only exaggerating (she wasn’t, he indeed never shut up about you). His dad. Contrary to popular belief (one that you had heard at least) that southern dads are scary, his dad was the complete opposite. You immediately knew where Bob got his manners from when you first set eyes on the older man, who simply took your extended hand that was ready to be shaken and pulled you into a hug, patting you on the back. “She’s a good one, son.” You’d overheard him later that night, speaking to Bob while you helped him mother set up the dinner table.

you most favourite part of it though, was meeting his sisters, Lindsey and Sam. Lindsey was older than Bob and had joined the Floyd family with her 7 year old daughter and husband for the holidays. Sam was the baby out of the three. both the sisters were an identical copy of their parents, having their dad’s soft blond hair and their mother’s gentleness, though Sam had acquired a bit of a sassy attitude from her grandmother, it made her even more likeable.

both had stolen you away as soon as you were done with dinner and taken you up to the guest room that you’d be sharing with Bob for the next few days. You knew what was to come, a million questions were to be asked about Bob and his dating life but what you didn’t expect was this: “so, how long have you loved our brother?” Lindsey had asked, a smirk creeping its way up her face as Sam muffled her giggles beside her.

You sat there, mouth glued shut as your eyes widened. "I-I, uhh... well..." You stuttered, struggling to utter out a single word that might difuse you anxiety in the situation.

"how...? how did you know?"

"call it sister intuition." Sam replied smugly; rolling over towards you from her lying position beside Lindsey. she sat up, moving to tuck a piece of hair behind your ear to reveal the one piece of jewellery that was so dear to you. They were a pair of small white dangling pearls, hung onto a thicker gold loop, dropping like rainfall from your ears. Bob had given them to you as a birthday present, saying that when he saw them, he'd thought of you.

"And that..."

"what about them?"

"when Robby was leaving for his last tour, he'd asked mom to give the family pearls to him, 'a special gift.' he'd said to us but we'd heard him mention your name when he was talking to gammy and mom about it." Lindsey explained. she wasn't entirely off from what Bob had told you, but he'd failed to mention that they were a family heirloom. It didn't sit right... why would he give you the family heirlooms? you both were just friends and if feeling were there, you were sure they were completely one-sided.

Later that night, as you sat with Bob on the floor. the amber light from the fireplace lit his face up like fire, he looked so damn beautiful and all you wanted to d-

"-you listening, Y/n?"

"hmm? shit sorry... what were you saying?"

"I said you have to draw 4. Also, I can see you hiding cards under your leg." He repeated, eyes scanning you mischievously as they lingered on a certain part near your legs. you shifted under his gaze, there was something in his eyes that was...

you shook your head, physically trying to let go of your chain of thoughts as you drew four cards from the deck of UNO cards in front you. Deciding that this maay be the best time to ask him about what Lindsey and Sam had told you, you began;

"So... I talked to Sam and Linds earlier...."

"mhmm" looking over his stash of cards before putting another one down.

"The pearl earrings that you gave me." that caused him to freeze, glancing towards you with an open mouth. taking his silence as a green light, you continued; "why did you gift them to me? i mean, they are your family heirlooms and...i guess they will be going to the person you want to-"

The realisation hit you like ice cold water being dumped on you on a chilly day. Bob sat there, eyes turned down, not meeting your gaze. As you tried taking up the new found revelation. How could you be this stupid?

"Bob..." you gulped, itching to ask him but the words were stuck in your throat, refusing to be let out. you moved closer to him, removing the cards in front you so they wont be damaged. taking his face in your hands as you sat on your knees, causing him to crane his neck as he was forced to look.

"Say it." You ordered gently, wanting to hear it from his mouth. "why did you give me the earrings?"

he audibly gulped at the question, you rarely spoke in such an assertive tone and whenever you did, it was a very different experience.

"because..."

"because what, sweet boy?"

“Because I love you.” He muttered, leaning towards your face as his eyes ghosted over your lips. Placing his hands on your hips to try and reach for your mouth.

“Hmm..” You dropped your hand from his face as they wandered onto his broad shoulders, keeping him down. Eyeing him up and down, you shifted forwards onto his lap, sitting yourself down. "say it again."

"I-I love you."

your hands came to dangled around his neck as his wrapped around your torso, keeping you in place. you leaned into his touch, forehead closing in to meet his as you both sat there, heavy breaths mingling into each other's. you closed your eyes, breathing him in. Being this close in proximity wasn't unfamilliar to you both, but this position was. but as you got more comfortable, you sighed, opening your eyes to see his closed ones.

"I love you too."

that caused his eyes to open. Looking to yours as if it held all the stars in the universe. he shifted his head to the side, trying to gain a better angle to look at you while your gaze shifted from his eyes to his lips. Looking hungrily;

"can i-"

"can I kiss you?"

you both asked in the same moment, which caused a giggle out of you. one of his hands wandering over your waist to the side of your torso just as he grabbed the column of your neck, caressing your jaw as your lips met in a ghost of a touch.

...

A/n; wellll, that was. let me know what you thinkkk <3333 @bussyslayer333 this one is for you babe, ILYSMMM. Bob is sweetheart and i am a sucker for him.

Taglist: @lemur46 @elicheel @arson-tm @blahblechblah @ravenhood2792

#bob x reader #bob floyd #top gun bob #robert bob floyd #robert ‘bob’ floyd #robert floyd x reader #lewis pullman #jake seresin x reader #top gun maverick #jake hangman seresin #hangman x reader #rooster x reader #rooster Bradshaw #Bradley rooster Bradshaw #Phoenix #natasha trace

[beethovenus]

ADDENDUM: This situation has been resolved privately with the creators of this document. Please refer to Paige's statement, and please do not harass her or anyone else.

--

Hi. Before anything, please do not attack or engage with anybody mentioned in this post or related to other posts made. I'm excluding certain individuals' identities out of respect.

Earlier this week, a document was posted about me by a well-intentioned individual who was looking to warn people about someone dangerous. Unfortunately, this individual was greatly misled by someone -- and it resulted in nearly a decade's worth of personal trauma being publicly weaponized against me, and unsubstantiated accusations made against me, with my legal name and face posted alongside them.

I've since spoken with this individual and bear no ill will towards them, nor anyone else involved with the document, for trying to do what they felt was right. Despite this, it resulted in a great deal of distress on my end, and had taken a hefty toll on my mental health for a few days.

I'm making this post to clarify misconceptions that have resulted from this, and to make proper apologies as needed.

"IP Tracking" Accusation

First, I want to address a now-retracted accusation that I attempted to dox or threaten a person with their personal information. When I was younger, I was dealing with a situation in which I felt I was being stalked and harassed on Tumblr.

In order to gather evidence, I used a freely-available web analytics website called StatCounter, which provides basic statistics and public information on website traffic -- including the general location, IP address, and device type of a website visitor. This is information that I kept to myself, and never shared, in case I needed to contact the appropriate authorities.

Unfortunately, this was misunderstood as me using an "IP grabber" to retrieve a person's personal information to leverage against them. This did not happen.

I have not committed criminal actions, nor have I ever attempted to use a position of power to silence a person's accusations. This was a deeply upsetting claim, and one that the original document poster has directly apologized to me for taking at face value and publishing.

Please do not go after anyone related to this situation, or hold them to actions of the past.

"Proshipper" Accusation

Next, I want to address the accusation that I support "proship" content. This is not true.

I've made multiple posts on Twitter discussing my distaste of "proship" content, and "proshippers." I strongly believe that creating and sharing content which glorifies inherently harmful and/or illegal content (incest, abuse, etc.) is wrong, immoral, and provides an easy avenue for predators to groom minors with by normalizing them to illicit material. This is a stance I will not change.

I have also expressed my feeling that if a person has gone through a traumatic experience and chooses to cope with it through artistic expression, it is their choice to do so -- as long as this is being done in a healthy manner that does not reinforce unhealthy behaviors, and is kept to one's self and not shared with others.

The problem arises in my wording. When trying to stay within the confines of Twitter's character limit, a post I made expressing this feeling was grossly misunderstood -- and instead, my words were taken as "proship material is okay as long as it's not public."

This is a misunderstanding of what I was trying to say, and something that does not align with the ideals I hold close. There's a difference between one's healthy means of coping with their own personal trauma, as advised by a professional -- and something illicit, immoral, and illegal being kept out of the public eye.

I apologize for my poor wording on this part. I can see how this would have been easily misunderstood, even though I feel I've always made my stance on this very clear.

This misinterpretation of my words has been paired alongside a recent situation in which Voltra, the creator of Storyshift, was under fire for calling herself a "proshipper." While this statement makes me uncomfortable, I have not yet taken the time to fully look into this situation, as I have been preoccupied with personal matters. While I was formerly a member of the official Storyshift reboot team, I have not been since 2023, as the project is on indefinite hiatus.

I have also seen people misunderstand the claims made in the original document as me being a predator, or a groomer, or having "victims." This is not true. I have a strong hatred for individuals that prey on the vulnerable, and there is a special place in hell for pedophiles and sexual predators.

"Groomer Defender" Accusation

Finally, while I've apologized to Salh behind the scenes and we've resolved everything amicably, I still want to make sure this apology is public. I am sorry for causing you harm and being unnecessarily unkind to you. I should not have involved myself in that situation, and acted strongly on my sense of justice based on what other people were telling me. I am sorry that when I originally apologized, it came off as defensive and dismissive. I genuinely did not mean to sound like this.

I am sorry to her friends that I accused of being alt accounts, and doing so based on what other people were telling me. It was a mistake to trust these words alone, and it's one I will not repeat.

I did not mean for my original apology to come off as dismissive or defensive. I felt driven to involve myself because of personal trauma related to an underlying situation, and it was not the right thing to do. I've since been attempting to come to terms with newly-recognized trauma that resulted from this underlying situation in an earlier period of my life, and work through it as best I can.

I am sorry for the hurt that I caused you without meaning to. I acted out of frustration and it was not okay. I do not want you to feel I was attempting to defend somebody that groomed you, or that I was trying to come to their aid -- there's a lot of complicated feelings I have, but at the end of the day, I was not the person to get involved.

Conclusion

I've said this before, but again, please do not harass the original creators of the document made against me. It was not okay for them to have made the claims that they did, and they have acknowledged that -- they were attempting to do something they felt was right, even if they were ultimately being misled.

This situation has taken a heavy toll on me, and I've also been dealing with health issues and personal matters. It was not fair for me to have had personal trauma of mine framed in a public setting as me being a dangerous individual. I've attempted to commit myself to helping others around me and striving to be the best I can be. Life has been difficult for me at times, and I've made mistakes -- but I always try to acknowledge, learn, and grow from them.

This does not excuse the times that I've harmed others without meaning to. I've been unnecessarily rude at times, and it's something I've attempted to do better from and identify root causes -- including potential traumatic reactions to certain stressors. I will always try to do my best, and make up for the wrongs I've done. I will not hide from my mistakes.

As the leader of Team Switched, I've taken on way too many responsibilities while leading the project -- because of this, we're shifting away from having a sole "team leader" position, to having the existing directors all exist as project leaders. That way, it better conveys that no one person represents the team's work as a whole, and is instead a collaborative effort.

From now on, I'll be the Project Manager / Creative Director of TS!UNDERSWAP. Not much is going to change, besides I should hopefully be putting less strain on myself to do certain tasks. I'm really looking forward to working more on Crystal Springs when I'm fully ready -- making people happy with our little fan-game has been important to me, and I want to continue giving that same joy.

#beeth says

[eggluttony]

Doctor Eggman invites King Sharyar over for a feast. Sharyar thinks Eggman is finally acknowledging his kingly greatness when in reality the doctor is planning to stuff the king until he's castle sized.

Ohoho yesss. Being presented with a huge delicious feast is a great delight to Shahryar, it'd lure him in exactly as it does Eggman. He knows for a fact as his counterparts always love to eat too and Shahryar appears to be no exception with the size of his big belly. From the moment he first saw, it he thought of feeding it and proving that by finding out truly how much he can eat.

Shahryar is impressed with the huge feast set out on the table when he arrives and says "It seems you finally understand how to win me over. This is how I really should be treated as king" as Eggman has been attempting to flirt with and charm him for a while but Shahryar was all tsundere and tried to look like he's not into it lol. He's lot more openly positively receiving to this, a good sign.

They quickly dig in and neither are afraid to eat with the same gusto and greed they do in private. They're both big guys and it's obvious they like to eat a lot and fast, there's no need to hide it and they hardly even think to anyway. Eggman is very pleased every time he looks up to see Shahryar really going for it, stuffing his face and never slowing down. It's no wonder he has a fat belly too.

They both try to clear as many of the dinner platters at the table as they can, their bellies get fuller and bigger gradually and it feels so good to supply them well and fill them up fast. They both naturally eat beyond comfortable fullness as is the usual for both of them. They're so into it that they barely chat much during it and whenever they do, their mouths are full and never empty.

Eggman stops when he feels satisfyingly stuffed and sits back in his seat to belch as he slaps his huge swollen full belly that proceeds him. Shahryar frowns and says "Where are your manners?" because it's no way to act in front of the king! Eggman just giggles cheekily and says "Pardon me~" insincerely. He's eaten enough to feel satisfyingly stuffed and decides not to go any further than that.

Shahryar considers himself finished too. His belly feels as overfull and content as it does when he's satisfied with a feast. When he pushes the dishes away and sits back too, Eggman asks "What are you doing?" and confuses Shahryar. He asks "What do you mean? I'm done with my food." Eggman says "You're nowhere near done yet! That's not how you dine like a king! Are you really royalty or not?"

Of course Shahryar immediately gets defensive just like Eggman knew he would and says "Of course I am and you must respect and treat me as one!" and Eggman says "Well you better prove it then and eat like one. Now eat up, there's still plenty left." Shahryar hesitates and looks unsure of what to do. He really wasn't planning on eating more, he feels as full as he should. No appetite.

He can't bring himself to reach for more. When he still doesn't start eating again, Eggman says "Ohh I see, are you expecting to be fed by me like the king you are too?" as he thinks about how his servants would often feed him. While that isn't the case as he really just feels like he's done, he just decides to nod and go with it because he doesn't want him doubting his kingliness again.

Eggman slides another couple of platters towards him and starts feeding it to him from them interchangeably. Shahryar just accepts and keeps going. "That's it, I know you wanted it really." Eggman smiles as he soon has the king swallowing down more food again. This isn't true, he really would've been happy stopping right now but he needs to prove that he's a real king to be respected.

After he clears a couple more platters, his stomach is feeling tight and hefty beyond his desired fullness. But Eggman only slides the next two full platters up to him and repeats the same thing. He seems to feed him a bit faster than the last in fact. Shahryar tries to hide his surprise because he doesn't want to be teased again and just keeps swallowing it down like a true king should.

He can really start to feel his full belly starting to stretch to try to fit the food that's still continuously flowing down his throat and into his stomach. A burp escapes him and he sighs from the slight relief of tightness but it doesn't stop much. Eggman is pleased to hear this burp and says "Finally, we're starting to get somewhere." Shahryar thinks to himself "Finally starting to?" He's so full!

But Eggman keeps feeding him and gets him to clear those next couple of platters. Then he slides yet another in front of him. Shahryar tries to hide his surprise and Eggman acts like he hasn't noticed how much he's eaten and just keeps feeding him more. "Come on let's speed up and really get into this now." Again, Shahryar feels like he's already "gotten into it" more than enough.

But Eggman is very happy continuing to feed him with no signs of finishing any time soon. Shahryar burps some more and begins to quietly moan from how stuffed he is but Eggman still keeps going. He starts to think that maybe he just somehow doesn't notice the signs of him feeling extremely overfull right now or he takes it as a sign to continue because he doesn't slow down.

Maybe he doesn't realize how round and firm his belly is becoming under his luxurious silky robes. Because they are very loose fitting and have a lot of room because he's a comfy guy. But man, is his belly bulging full underneath them. It's so big and swollen under there and it's starting to ache from the food that continues to enter it nonstop. It starts to gurgle in protest of being overfed.

Eggman just puts another platter in front of him and keeps feeding him and Shahryar finally moans and whispers "Mmhh, sooo full..." as a hint. Eggman says "Oh really?" and checks by finally running his hands over his belly through his robes. Shahryar moans as his big hands collide with his firm round sensitive belly from having so much food forced into it. He hopes he'll realize now.

But instead he just says "Oh yeah, it feels so good doesn't it?" and keeps going. Shahryar really didn't expect to have to eat this much more be fed by him at all. He thought the feast was so big to be split between them, not that most of it was going into his belly! He's already eaten far more than what he'd usually have in his big royal feasts to himself. This is on a whole other level!

Shahryar whimpers as his swollen bloated belly is forced to expand even more and really starts to ache. Eggman says "What's the matter?" and Shahryar says "Alright, alright, I've had enough now. UURRRP! Too much..." But Eggman just says "You can't be done yet, you need to eat like a true king and they deserve more than this~" He doesn't want him to stop now, it's so exciting.

Shahryar whimpers again and Eggman just hushes him and muffles the sound by keeping his mouth full. He keeps a hand in his robes to rub his stuffed belly while he keeps feeding him to soothe and to feel how full it is. It's packed tight and feels so huge. The way Shahryar sighs and groans from now sensitive it's become just excites Eggman and makes him want to feed him more.

He loves how he looks with his fat cheeks full of food like a greedy fatty, swallowing down more while he's already stuffed and groaning so he just keeps shoving more into his mouth. Shahryar says "Why won't you stop feeding me? I feel like I'm going to explode." and Eggman is just cheeky like "You mean why won't you stop eating. You're the one that keeps accepting, chewing, and swallowing!"

Shahryar pouts at the teasing because he can't exactly argue against it this time. He doesn't have to open his mouth, chew, and swallow but he keeps doing it because he's so greedy. And when he looks down, he can tell Eggman is clearly excited with his erection that's stretching his bodysuit, so he doesn't have to wonder why he won't stop feeding him. They're both loving this, clearly.

Eggman announces that it's the final push for him to be done now but Shahryar doesn't feel like he can handle even a bite more. He gulps and seems nervous, finally admitting that he's definitely really had enough now and doesn't think his stomach can hold anymore. But Eggman says "Come on, I know you can do it, you have to! You've been doing so well!"

He's moaning and sighing as Eggman holds and gently rubs his belly to support it while he stuffs it even more. It's so overstuffed that it gurgles and groans and Shahryar moans and pants between big burps. Eggman kisses his chubby cheek full of food and tells him he's so handsome and such a good boy for this. Shahryar likes that he's so proud of him and it helps him finish.

When he's finally done, they're both very surprised and impressed that he managed to eat the entire rest of the feast by himself! His belly looks five times bigger than when he came here. They're both in awe as Eggman pulls the robes away so it's exposed and rubs and caresses it. A loud deep belch that he really needed escapes Shahryar and Eggman is so excited by it.

Shahryar groans and burps nonstop as Eggman rubs his belly and asks "Why did you feed me so much? I'm too full. OURRRRP!" and Eggman says "No you're not, you've finally eaten just about enough! You're a king, aren't you? You're supposed to dine like one!" Shahryar is like "Indeed but my feasts are never this big!" He's never felt so stuffed in his life and he's had many big feasts to himself.

"Well that means you've finally eaten enough like you're really supposed to. And it feels good, doesn't it?" Eggman says as he plays with Shahryar's belly, holding, caressing, rubbing and patting it. When he grabs a couple of thick rolls in his hands and shakes it, Shahryar groans and how heavy and packed full it feels. "Now that's the belly of a well fed king~" Eggman coos, feeling proud of his work.

Shahryar feels more like a big fat overfed blob of lard, so heavy and full that he can't bring himself to move. But he sure does feel like royalty when he's lay back on soft silk cushions with his gut very well supplied with a huge feast that was fed to him and is now being rubbed and worshipped. He feels like a big pampered fatty in luxury, exactly the way every well respected king should be!

But ohh he's just too stuffed full. It feels like Eggman got too excited and went really overboard with the size of the feast he had made for him. It started as a feast for them to share, yet the amount of it that Eggman expected him to eat was so much bigger than the entire feasts he usually gets all to himself! And he usually doesn't have to eat every single bite. Yet every dish here is completely empty now.

"Uughh, I do think you fed me a bit too much though. I'm sooo stuffed!" He whines as he looks down at his belly in disbelief. It's so packed full and looks absolutely enormous, he can't believe it's his and the amount of food stuffed in there. It looks the biggest and fullest it's ever been in his life, it's absolutely bulging and proceeds him so far. His fat spills out so much further than usual.

"Mmm nah, I didn't. If that was true then you wouldn't have kept eating like such a greedy fatty. You clearly needed it. You're just finally stating to eat the amount a big royal fatass like you has really needed all this time. The better you supply it, the longer it'll stay full. And the king should never go hungry for second!" Eggman has a very cheeky look on his face as Shahryar's eyes widen.

"So are you saying you're going to feed me this much again? It wasn't just a special occasion?" He's nervous at the sight of a very big smirk on Eggman's face. "Oh yeah, I am. An increase of your intake was due and you've proven you can handle it. From now on, you can really be fed like the king you are!" Eggman sounds very happy and excited as he announces this.

Shahryar may gulp at the thought of having to eat like this at least once more but he has no idea what's on Eggman's mind. Thoughts of feeding him like this over and over, so his belly always looks five times bigger than he started, until it already looks that big when he starts, then bigger and bigger, maybe making him eat more each time so he becomes the biggest fattest king in the world!

Shahryar struggles to get to bed, waddling with his huge stuffed full belly hanging heavy in from of him, making him feel slow and sluggish. His stomach is making very loud gurgling noises now as it tries to process and digest all that food and he can't stop burping and groaning. It's so adorable and hot, how he struggles and huffs and pants and clutches his belly to give it support.

Eggman helps him navigate and says "So sorry you have to walk all this way to bed, kings like you shouldn't have to walk like this, especially not after a big royal feast. If only some of your men were here to carry you. I'll have some robots ready next time to help." As hot as it is to watch, it'd be even hotter if he didn't get the slightest ounce of exercise after, not even a short walk to bed, so he will have that arranged to keep him lazy and fat.

When he makes it to the bed he collapses onto it and it creaks so loudly and dips a lot despite how it's supposed to be made to hold fatties like him and Eggman. But all the pounds of food in his gut are making him so much heavier than usual and the bed is struggling. He can't believe how much like a huge mountain his belly looks even when he's lay back too, there's way too much food in there!

Eggman is also very proud of how much he managed to stuff him. He runs his hands over his huge belly and rubs it slowly and Shahryar moans and whimpers softly again. It's absolutely enormous, his soft fat is spilling out much further than usual and beneath the softness is a huge overexpanded stomach packed so full and tight. He's never felt so massive and maxed out.

He can't stop moaning when Eggman rubs it as embarrassed as he is when he's been so stubborn and tsundere towards his advances for a while. But his stomach is so sensitive when so overstuffed, he can't help but moan from the pain of the ache and the relief of the soothing. And it does feel pleasurable too, though he's still too stubborn to admit that now. But he's so stuffed he welcomes his touch, he needs it right now, he tells himself.

"I know, it feels so good doesn't it? To have such big beautiful well fed royal belly. That's why we need to feed you like his more." Eggman coos and smiles at Shahryar's cute moans that he'd been wanting to hear for a long time. Shahryar does feel like a spoiled and pampered king, with an overstuffed belly being rubbed and worshipped. And he sure does feel like he has a king-sized belly!

Eggman then reads a bedtime story to him in the way Shahryar loves and demands every night but he keeps burping over Eggman's reading because he can't help it and he finds it cute. When he's done, Shahryar whispers "Please do it again." Eggman is like "Do what? Oh, rub your belly? See, you love me really." then has a smug knowing smirk on his face. Finally, he's getting confirmation!

"It doesn't mean anything, my servants do the same all the time!" Shahryar gets all defensive as usual. "And you're going to tell me you don't have a thing for those hunks too?" Eggman raises a brow. "Okay, you're right. Just for tonight, if it means I can get a rub." Shahryar huffs in defeat. Eggman is very pleased to hear that he's won for a change. Food and belly rubs really is the way to his heart!

He enjoys watching how Shahryar's eyes close and how he looks relaxed as he enjoys the rubs. He's still moaning quietly nonstop because it's just too much, the bulging fullness is just so intense. He sighs breathlessly in relief at the deep burps it works up. "Are you really going to keep feeding me like this everyday?" Shahryar asks. He just can't believe it or imagine eating like this ever again.

"Your palace has lots of room for you to grow, so you better keep eating up!" Is all that Eggman says with a sly smirk as he pats his huge belly. Shahryar blushes hard, his palace is so huge he has no idea how much he could mean and what he's planning but he can sure it'll be a lot with how much he fed him! Now it makes sense, he didn't just want to overfeed him, he wanted to make him fatter.

"So you didn't just want to feed me a nice feast, you want to fatten me up. You bastard." Shahryar huffs. But Eggman says "I want both for you! You really should be eating much more like the royalty you are and I want to help you with that. And with the bigger belly you'll naturally get from that, everyone will truly see and respect you as the king you are~ Isn't that what you wanted?"

Shahryar thinks about it and nods.

"Of course you do. So you're gonna keep eating as well as you did today!" Eggman tries to contain his excitement but Shahryar has no idea the wild things running through his mind. He doesn't know he wants to fatten him up until his butt gets too big for his throne and his body too wide for his bed, he'll truly be king-sized when he's bigger than a throne and king-sized bed.

He likes thinking about him having a huge excessively overfed royal belly that's very stuffed and gets bigger all the time. Hell, he really does have so much room to grow in his huge palace and he wants to take advantage of that space. He wants to make him the size of his palace. The thought has him throbbing like crazy as he rubs Shahryar's belly and imagines it being so so so much bigger.

Shahryar already feels massive with his enormous stuffed belly pinning him down, he certainly does feel like a very spoiled and pampered royal fatass. But it does feel pretty good once it's all settled in and he feels very well fed and satisfied. Perhaps he could get used to this, maybe he really should be a bit fatter... Maybe people will finally see and respect him as the king more and won't be so rude!

But he doesn't know yet that Eggman isn't just thinking about a "little bit". It never is, it's always to the extreme and maximum. Over time he will start to find out with the many more stuffings to come! Eggman gets excited at the thought of feeding him another big feast as early as tomorrow morning as he lulls him to sleep by rubbing his immensely full belly. This'll be sure to help him gain!

#modern #king shahryar #weight gain #stuffing #imagines #asks #eggman x shahryar

[leonawriter]

Hm, it's a common question, I think, to wonder what parts of Akechi are real and which aren't. But because of that I think there's also the similar question tied to it of"how much of his confidant with Akira was genuine, and how much was faked?" and I just had a thought related to both.

See, a lot of how a lot of the Detective Prince is drawn from Akechi purposefully making himself pleasing to, and ingratiating himself toward, adults. That's a fact. A lot of his aspects there are straight up fabricated- like, for instance, his leaning toward sweets when the truth is that he doesn't care about the taste of what he eats much at all (aside from "too spicy" it seems).

But my thoughts were drawn more toward something else - how he is with Akira. And from there, the question of "what is genuine."

Here's an idea - with adults he didn't care about other than to impress them to gain their respect, he'd act a certain way, sure, but for Akira? We see that from the start, but most obviously from Rank 2, he isn't so much trying to ingratiate himself into Akira's good graces. In fact (and this is especially seen in the Japanese, from what I saw once), he's rather patronising and wants to put Akira in his place, which is in line with his earlier line of "if the Phantom Thieves faced a truly strong enemy, they'd run." He doesn't respect Akira a lot, and Akira only gives him reasons to at the end of Rank 2, with his keen observations.

But for the rest of the time, there's still a subtle sense of "Detective Prince" to him, right?

And that's where I started thinking, "what if some of how he acts with Akira is him putting on a mask of "if I weren't in this position, if my reasoning for hanging out with him was just this, how would I act?" - in other words, "in a world where we could just be friends."

Which, as I was writing the post, made ne think, "this is what Maruki gave him" because isn't it just? The thing is, though, that Akechi couldn't separate how he had grown up from who he came to be, and that's a big part of what drew him to Akira, as well as what kept coming through the cracks in his masks, and in the end, what made their bond fully rank up - the truth.

Maruki could give Akechi that bond without any of the pain, but it'd be flimsy, because just as much - or even more so than - any of the others, his bond wasn't built on a foundation that could last once you took the pain of his and Akira's respective pasts away.

Which accounts for the third semester, but- it also accounts for how I write him and see him, having a lot of those mannerisms and ways of putting himself across that aren't much different no matter which face he's wearing. The Detective Prince is a fabrication built to seem perfect, and perfect children and young adults only get angry in the right amount. In the third semester he's always angry because the situation calls for it, and he's got no chance to rest away from the danger and threat of dying the moment they're done. With Shido he focused on looking how Shido would want to see his assassin/hitman act.

Outside of all that? I'm thinking of the Akechi we see in unguarded moments, someone who's allowed to show frustration and anger without having his only outlet being the Metaverse. Someone who'd still have trouble letting people in, but who would have more genuine relationships given he'd be able to be honest in them. I think about how it's common for people who've lost their childhoods to any sort of abuse or neglect to regain it in some way, so him not just rambling about things to people he trusts not to make fun of him, but also using his money to indulge in his own interests that aren't to impress other people might also be a thing.

I vaguely remember seeing someone deride the idea that he'd take a year or so to himself, but I think he would need that time to get to know himself. Not just to figure out what he does and doesn't like, but also to accept the parts of him that either are just plain "Goro Akechi" that were integral parts of the Detective Prince mask that he may have seen as fake and false, as well as the things he only started doing because of it that are now a full part of who he is.

Just imagine him reacting in certain ways and flinching because he sees it as a muscle memory he wants to get rid of, but later coming to realise that it may have been a part of a mask, but that mask was also made up of bits and pieces of himself he already had.

#p5 stuff #akechi goro #just... thoughts #that other people have probably had #but even so

[orlissa]

For the promt thingy... dance :)

Day 4: Dance

The dance tutor—entirely too pompous and with an overinflated sense of importance—arrived unexpectedly from the Grand Palace on an unassuming Wednesday.

"Madam," he addressed her, stressing the word in a way that implied that even a street-side stray dog is more deserving of the title than her, "will be expected to dance at the winter fete—some of this nation's most important men will be clamoring to fill up your dance card. I am here, on his majesty's behalf, to make sure you do not make a fool of yourself."

And since she was not in a position to argue—ballroom dancing hadn't been exactly high on the list of educational priorities at Keranzin; in fact, it was deemed about as important as dressage and fine needlepoint—, Alina readily agreed to the lessons.

…It was an unmitigated disaster.

She turned out to be hopeless at following the rhythm, she didn’t know where to put her arms, and, the worst of it all, she kept stepping on the tutor’s toes up to a point where she would have sworn he limped. He also looked ready to quit after their first session.

But he didn’t, because he was a professional, and because the winter fete was looming, and she still couldn’t dance, but everyone—most of the all the tsar—expected her to dance, and she was going to step on the foot of some grand duke and trip the tsarevich, making him fall into the punch bowl, and—

Let's just say the fear of humiliation in front of the imperial family, the whole court, and some of this nation's most important men was enough to keep her in the room they used for practice long after the tutor had left, her gaze glued to the marks drawn on the floor to guide her feet as she tried to make sense of the intricate steps.

"You are going about it all wrong."

Alina startled at the voice, missed a step, tripped on her own foot, and almost fell. So much for dignity.

“Moi sov…” she cleared her throat awkwardly. “Aleksander.”

“Alina,” he returned the greeting with a slight incline of his head. He stood at the entrance of the room wearing his tunic, his embroidered kefta forgotten, leaning against the doorframe not like a general, but a rake. He wore the look well.

A part her, the one that was positively flustered by his sudden appearance, wanted to do something respectful and silly, like curtsy to him, while another part of her, the one desperate for a crumb of control, wanted to say something witty or something coy, but all she could come up with was, “Didn’t anyone teach you that it’s rude to… to… well, to walk on a lady like that!”

A hint of a smile played at the corner of his mouth. “I sincerely apologize. I meant no offense.” He pushed away from the doorframe and started walking towards her. “It doesn’t change the fact that you are doing it all wrong.”

Aline waved her hands around in a decidedly un-ladylike manner in frustration. “Well, I’m trying…!”

“That’s the issue,” he said, reaching her and grabbing her wrist. Alina stared at his fingers wrapped gently around the bare skin. “You are trying too hard.” Tentatively, he reached for her with his other hand as well. “May I?”

Unsure what he meant, but trusting him nonetheless, she gave him a small nod.

He changed hold on the hand he was already gripping and slipped his other hand on her waist, pulling her closer ever so slightly. It was no different than what she’d done with the dance tutor, and it somehow felt indecent, like it held the spark of the forbidden. And he started to move.

“You are so determined to get this right," he said softly while swaying to some silent music, "that you forget that you are dancing."

"No, I can assure you…" she replied, eyes all but glued to her own feet, determined not to step on his. "I'm acutely aware of the fact that I'm dancing."

"You don't understand," he went on, leading her in a circle; she messed up a step as she tried to avoid colliding into him. "Eyes on me, please." For the first time, his voice held a note of authority, just enough to make her actually turn her gaze at his face. “You are so focused on the individual movements, where to step, where to put your hand, on the minute details, that you forget about the whole. Dancing is not a chore or some kind of punishment. Not something that is meant to make you look foolish. Dancing is something to be felt—to be enjoyed.”

What he was saying barely made any sense and she was starting to lose her patience. And she almost stepped on his toes. Again. “So what should I be doing then?” The question came out a little sharper than intended.

“For now? Just relax and let me lead.”

“But—”

“No buts. Close your eyes if it helps.”

She wanted to argue—just a little, just to be contrary—, but there was something in his smooth voice that had her obey the gentle command. She closed her eyes, relaxed, gave in to him, and then… She danced.

It was startlingly easy once she didn’t stress over getting it all wrong, worrying about the proper placement of her feet, her limbs and back locked up with tension, and just… let it all happen. Aleksander was an exquisite dancer—no real surprise here—, able to guide her with the minutest movements: a gentle nudge here, a tiny pull there, and before she knew it, she was gliding as if suspended in the air.

Then, just as she was just about to lose herself in the sensation, he twirled her around once, stepped back, and let her go—she could practically hear the imaginary music stop. 

She blinked her eyes open. “That was… wow,” she breathed, looking at Aleksander as he stood, almost expectantly, just out of reach. His smile widened slightly.

“I told you you were doing it all wrong.” He moved, almost as if he wanted to step closer to her again, but then changed his mind, staying where he was. “Despite their numerous faults, most of the people who will be there at the fete are decent dancers. Just let them lead and try not to overthink it, and you’ll be fine.”

“Thank you. For the lesson. And everything.” She brushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear nervously, suddenly finding it hard to look into his eyes. “And, like… I know I’ll be expected to rub elbows there, but maybe…”

“Yes?”

She took a quick breath. “Would it be too much to ask to dance with me at the ball too?”

Something flashed in his eyes—something dangerous and amazing. “As a matter of fact,” this time he did step closer, “I did hope that, although I’m sure your card will fill up rather fast, you’d reserve three dances for me.”

Her throat suddenly dry, Alina swallowed. “Why three?”

“Because any more than that would be quite scandalous.”

#darklina #shadow and bone #fanfic #drabble #advent calendar project

[norabrice1701]

The Duke & The Witch - Ch. 6

Charles Brandon x Fem!OC, A The Tudors Slight-AU fic

Series Main List

Ch. 6 Warnings: Discussion of witchcraft; period-typical attitudes towards everything (women, religion, witchcraft, etc.); fantastical squinty science/alchemy

Avian sighs, satisfied as she pulls back to admire her handiwork. Cutting and sorting spear thistle plants into their respectively useful piles – leaves for drying, taproots for cooking, unflowered blooms for syrup – always takes longer than she remembers. The coarse texture of the stems irritates her skin, fingertips red and nearly raw from handling the prickly plant.

But it has to be done. The taproots are one of her better sources of food.

The knife drops to the tabletop with a dull clunk before she gathers the pile of taproots. While they store better dry and uncooked, the closed-up blooms need tending before they dry out. But not yet. The wild roses have waited long enough. Once they’re properly prepared, then she can return her attention to the thistle blooms.

As she shuffles the rest of the thistle remains to the side, she plucks a ceramic crock from the worktable against the back wall. The basket of wild roses sits untouched near the door and she reaches for it, dumping the collection of deep red blooms and green stems onto the cleared table surface.

The first stem breaks down easily. So much easier than the thistles. She shaves the thorns off with the knife, letting them fall to the table. Once the thorns fall free, then comes the twine for drying the flower petals- 

“Avian!”

She startles on the call, focus broken as she glances up with wide eyes. That voice… his voice has only echoed in her memories these past months. But now? 

Has the duke truly returned? 

Her mouth goes dry at the thought. Does she dare respond? Or has he just come to arrest her after all this time? Her heart hammers, vulnerability creeping along her skin as she deliberates. She isn’t wearing an arm gauntlet and her dress sleeve isn’t wide enough to hide it even if she puts one on. With a deep breath, she rises from the table and tightens her grip on the large knife. Slowly pushing the cottage door open, she angles her body to keep the knife at her side hidden from view. 

The duke stands proud by his horse with no evidence of a wagon or garrison soldiers accompanying him. He wears the fine appointments of his rank, his sleeveless black cloak trimmed in black fur and catching around his legs in the breeze. His face holds a carefully guarded expression before a small grin teases the corner of his mouth. His azure eyes meet hers and… has he always been so strikingly handsome?

She swallows the uneasy thought, sighing uneasily. “Your Grace?”

“Avian.” He greets again, tipping his head. “I’m glad to see that you are still here. I had heard that you might have fled the duchy.”

Her lips purse to a tight line of consideration before she steps fully into the doorway, letting him see the glint of the knife. “Is that why you’re here?”

“Am I under attack?” His past as a soldier betrays him, gaze focusing on the knife with rapt attention. “You are usually armed in subtler ways, which leads me to think I have caught you unaware.”

“I did not know what to expect when you called my name. As for the rest, I will leave that for you to decide.” She isn’t about to admit the truth of his words. It would be all too easy for him to knock the knife from her hand and hold her completely at his mercy. Her fingers tighten around the knife grip. “Is there something in particular you want? If you only journeyed here to confirm that I have not run away, then you have accomplished your task.” 

His head tilts with indignant surprise. “You would dismiss me so readily?”

A stab of frustration rears its head. For all of his sins, her father had taught her a base level of manners, and dismissing a nobleman so blatantly always carried a high risk. Especially in her present position. She wets her top lip uneasily. “No, Your Grace.” She glances back towards the cottage. “But I have work that must continue, so if you wish to converse further, you will have to accommodate me.” 

Without waiting for a response, she turns back towards the cottage and disappears into the interior. She doesn’t know if he’ll take her offer or not, but the open cottage door stands as proof of her words. Another nervous sigh leaves her as she struggles to calm the rapid rhythm of her heart. At least her present task with the roses still allows her to keep holding the knife without excuse.

His shadow darkens the doorway, and she watches him freeze with surprised disbelief. 

***

An onslaught of powerful scents overwhelm him. They clog the air and he can barely tell them apart. Some are familiar – roses, lavender – and too many are unknown but spicy, earthen and sweet. He takes a breath, worried he might choke on the weight of the heavily perfumed air as he looks at the bunches of flora strung up and hanging from the lattice work against the far wall. 

He looks over at her, disbelief coloring his face. “How have you not choked?”

Her brow furrows in mild confusion. “None of it is toxic.”

Crossing the cottage threshold, he walks over to the lattice for a closer look. Bunches of various leaves, flowers and berries hang upside down in differing shriveled states. Each has their own shape and texture - something that he takes for granted on the battlefield or during a hunt - but he has never before considered that so many could be useful. “What is all this?” He asks, turning to look at her working at the table. The rough surface is covered in all manner of bowls, mortar and pestles, crocks, metal instruments, liquids, powders, and pastes. It looks like a physician’s dream. 

Her lips pull to a closed-mouth, almost coy grin. “What does it look like?”

“Plants, flowers… but the likes of which I have never seen before.” He turns back to study the latticework, taking a closer look at the varying bundles. They all hang by the stems with the blooms and leaves pointed towards the ground. Some look freshly picked and strung up while others appear dry and wrinkled. 

“Have you never ventured into a kitchen before?” She casts him a questioning look that he doesn’t acknowledge before she shakes her head, the motion reproachful. “You betray your privileged upbringing.”

“I have never hidden it.” His voice holds no apology, only the mild sting of offense. Most commoners don’t separate privilege from nobility, but if she does, then the tales about him have spread far and wide, indeed. He arches a brow in consideration. “It’s revealing that you know about my lineage to make such a comment. If the people of my duchy spread such talk, then I would hear what other such talk they spread.” Glancing over at her, he wets his top lip curiously. “Do they even use my name? Do you even know my name?”

The knife blade falls against the heavy wooden table as she chops a rose thorn, followed by another. Her face pinches in concentration even as she shakes her head. “None of that hardly matters, Your Grace.”

“If you subsist on rumors, then I would know what rumors say of me.”

Her bright green eyes meet his for the space of a breath, and even in the dusty dimness of the cottage they captivate him. But before his stare lingers too long, she blinks away with a reluctant sigh. “The rumors are not unfavorable. Simply that you are a personal friend of the king, hence your noble title without the pedigree to support it.”

Even now, he still doesn’t understand why Henry saw fit to grant him letters patent, but he had been in no position to deny his king. Not that he had really wanted to - he positively preened under the mantle of his new station, even if the prospect had terrified him at first. But now? Now an incredulous grin lifts the corner of his mouth. How have the passing years seen him become an effective executor of his duchy only to find himself standing inside the cottage of a suspected witch? 

And all while Henry sits on the throne with that whore Anne Boleyn at his side. 

He tries to blink the heavy torrent of thoughts away as he sighs. It brings him no peace, and instead he lets his gaze settle on the neatly tied rows of flora that hang upside down. Raising a gloved hand, he lightly trails a finger down a bunch of long-stemmed blooms with purple clusters. “This one I recognize,” he says softly. “From laundered bed linens.”

She lifts her head, looking around him to see. “Lavender. It aids with sleep.”

Under his touch, the stems swing on their twine string and knock into surrounding bunches. "Why are they tied up like this?” The question leaves him before he can think better of it. He doesn’t claim a vast interest in their purpose, but the easy conversation distracts from his stormy thoughts.

“It’s the best way to dry them out - to make them dry and brittle for grinding into pastes and powders. Once I’m finished with the thorns, the roses will join them.” Something in her tone shifts - to his ears, she sounds almost gracious. Calming. As if she can sense his preference in the distracting, idle conversation. Perhaps he shouldn’t have pressed her to divulge the rumors about him, after all. 

He looks back over at her and the piles of roses. “And what purpose do the roses serve?”

“Several – in tea, rose aids in pain relief. In compresses, rose aids in healing wounds.”

Walking over to the table, he continues to watch her sever the thorns from the stems. “I’m beginning to think that you missed your calling by hiding yourself here,” he says, trying to force a light tone to his voice. “You could fetch a fair penny as a healer in any of the villages.”

“And be run out by the attending physicians? Or burned alive for heresy without due process?”

“That is still a distinct possibility even with due process.”

With the back of the knife, she scrapes the scattered thorns into a central pile. She reaches for a crock with her other hand before pushing the pile towards the table’s edge and off into the waiting crock. A collection of rose thorns already rest in the crock, some brown with age beneath the fresh green thorns. An intrigued grin curls his lips. “The thorns serve a purpose too, I’d wager?”

“Yes.” She meets his gaze with a surprising hint of cordial teasing. “You’re welcome to assist me if you’d like.”

He scoffs on instinct. “Commoner’s work.”

“Yes, that is indeed what I am,” she counters gently, unbothered by his tone. “But until you figure out why you linger here in my home, I wanted to extend the offer.”

The words burrow under his skin with more frustrating truth than he wants to acknowledge. With the completion of his objective to confirm that she still remained in his duchy, why does he linger? Is he truly so desperate for a reprieve from court life that he seeks it in the company of a rumored witch?

He wets his top lip. “Would you believe me if I said I was gathering evidence to support your inquiry?”

The line of her shoulders stiffens ever so subtly,  brow wrinkling with concern even as her gaze stays fixed on the table. Her fingers flex on the knife grip as she speaks. “Yes, I would believe you. I have not forgotten our previous conversation. Or is… ” she pauses with a visible swallow. “Is that why you have come, but will not say? To take me back to your dungeon?”

Honestly, that’s exactly what he should do. The responsibility of his station demands that he consider the wellbeing of his duchy, and he can ill afford to let a suspected witch continue to roam free. Indeed, he should see her imprisoned with the braids in her hair undone and washed out, along with a thorough search of her person for any other tricks that might literally be up her sleeve. But would that really be in the best interest of his duchy? 

At length, he sighs and hopes it doesn’t betray his conflict. “Not today.” He says with firm conviction. “But soon.”

“Soon?” Her eyes dart up to him, sharp in the hazy light under the fall of her braids and wild curls. “Why not today? Has the cat not toyed with the mouse enough?”

He can’t help the wicked curl of his lips. “If I were truly toying with you, you would know it.”

Her cheeks flush ever so faintly as her mouth tightens in contemplation. “Then, if it’s not…” She trails off, green eyes studying his for the truth. “Then you must want something from me.”

The memories of the powders in her arm gauntlet return, and he can’t deny the temptation. Perhaps she could prove useful - and if her healing powers have half the potency of those powders, then maybe he does want her for something. Perhaps even the king would care to employ her services for his own personal use. After all, the stories about her are far more centered on healing rather than destruction. 

With exception of the lightning from her fingertips. But such temptation lurks there, too. Why should he share her knowledge and skills with the king when he could keep her as a well-guarded secret? Could he wield her as a weapon of retribution against the evil that has poisoned the king’s court? All too clearly, he can see Queen Anne’s burning hatred for him, recall all the times she’s brazenly wounded his pride in her attempt to drive a wedge between him and Henry. His friend has been too blinded by love to see her for the serpent she truly is, but maybe… maybe with Avian… 

He forces a hard swallow. “Maybe not… but maybe,” his voice drops to a dark whisper. “You would help me destroy her.” 

A weighted silence falls in the cottage as Avian stills. Her eyes narrow in immediate suspicion as his words hang in the air. He doesn’t know what rumors of Queen Anne have reached the commoners of his duchy, but as he watches the implications of his words play out on her face, he nods with silent understanding. 

She nibbles her bottom lip as distrust dances in his eyes. “If you’re trying to bait me into speaking treason to justify my imprisonment, then you will be sorely disappointed.”

“This is no trap. No trick.” He wonders what circle of hell he condemns himself to as he speaks. “I ask you plainly again – could… would you help me destroy her?”

She shakes her head. “That is not how it should work.”

“But it can be done.”

Her lips pinch to a tight line, the weight of the unspoken answer heavy between them before she speaks. “Are you not concerned that I should turn you in for speaking treason?”

“And why should anyone believe you?” He counters. “I’ve sworn the oath. I served as high constable for her coronation. I’ve been the ever true, ever loyal servant. And you? You’re the witch who summons lightning strong enough to destroy. To kill, even.” His words cut deep, but he has a point to make. If this witch means to beat him at a power play, she’ll be sorely mistaken. He tips his head to send her a warning glare. “Best look after your own neck before threatening mine.”

Her grip on the knife tightens even as nothing else in her expression changes. A heavy silence falls between them as she turns her gaze away and chops off another thorn, the movement slow and deliberate. Reaching for another rose, she drops the knife to the tabletop with a dull thunk. Her eyes find his again, and she gently pushes the rose across the table towards him. “I already told you that was a mistake. If you’re looking to gain destructive powers, then you’d better find yourself someone else.”

He follows the motion of her hand to stare at the rose as it lays against the tabletop. The perfect beauty of the blood red bloom seems to mock him with its elegance helplessly trapped at this witch’s mercy. God help him, he must truly be losing his mind. Has he forgotten himself so completely in asking this woman to help him destroy the queen? He sighs, reaching a gloved hand out to take the tender stem, lifting it up to inhale its perfume. 

So pleasant. So simple.

He drops it harshly to the table before turning away and walking out into the afternoon sunlight. Too many words stick in his throat and cloud his mind. His frustrated anger has already loosened his tongue enough for one day. Who knows what else he might say if he allows it to continue running unchecked?

Series Main List

#charles brandon #duke of suffolk #the tudors #henry cavill #charles brandon x ofc #henry cavill x ofc #the tudors fanfic

[deepspacedukat]

Praetor’s Pride - Part 2

This is shorter than I initially anticipated...also uh...remember how I said there might be like...eight or nine chapters? Yeah, it’s uh...it’s gonna be more than that. Also, I didn’t intend to post today, but uh...here we are. Enjoy!

Part 1 here.

Cross-posted to AO3 here.

~*~

Praetor Hiren (ST:Nemesis) x Reader

[A/N: This has some smut adjacent innuendo/fantasizing, so 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI!!!]

Warnings: Flirting, mentions of alcohol consumption, hangover, sexual innuendo, brief hint of sexual fantasizing, Hiren drinks his Respect Women Juice daily, insulting Kai Winn is my hobby/passion, platonic cuddling, mild Romulan hand play.

~*~

Hiren kept her in the periphery of his vision as he spoke to the various representatives in attendance. He had one left: a rather unpleasant blonde Bajoran woman. What was her name again? Winn? Internally he cringed as she made some insultingly transparent insinuation about bolstering relations between Bajor and the Empire.

He would much rather reinforce the friendship with the Federation via the lovely young thing Letant had just introduced him to. She was beautiful...utterly entrancing, unlike the power-hungry religious leader who was attempting to garner his favor by laying a hand on his sleeve.

Instead of sensual interest as she’d no doubt hoped to illicit, all Winn had done was inspire a vague nausea that he intended to remedy. The Praetor had endured just about enough of this unpleasantness. Turning his gaze fully and unabashedly toward where Letant and the Ambassador stood giggling with their glasses of Romulan ale, Hiren felt a smile spread across his lips.

“Yes, very interesting, I’m sure. Excuse me, Kai.” Without looking at her or bothering to wait for a response, Hiren puffed himself up the slightest bit and made his way toward his friend and the lovely lady who was slowly taking over his thoughts. Neither noticed his approach. “Now, what could you two be conspiring about?”

Letant wasn’t bothered by his appearance, but the young lady bit her lower lip and attempted very gallantly to stop her laughter.

“Oh, all manner of sordid things unbecoming to two public figures, as usual,” Letant chuckled even as his companion’s lovely face darkened in a blush. She gave the Senator a reproachful glare before looking to Hiren.

“Shaoi kon, Praetor,” she murmured demurely sending his heart thudding in his side. Her pronunciation of the deferential greeting was a little clumsy, but her tongue handled the syllables well otherwise. Maybe he should try to teach her some more of his language just to hear her whisper it in his ear...

Shaking that notion from his head and stepping closer to her, Hiren lifted a hand to his chest and inclined his head very slightly.

“Shaoi dan, lhhei.” At his intonation, surprise flitted over her face. So she knew the difference in meaning between the two phrases, then. That was good. Letant had introduced her as a prospective mate. No matter what position they each held, he wanted to make sure she knew that he perceived her as his equal. He hoped that the more balanced greeting he’d given would demonstrate that. “Forgive me for interrupting, but would you still be interested in conversing? I suspect that several intriguing differences in philosophy might become apparent in our discussion.”

“Of course. I’d love to, Praetor,” she replied, but he held up a hand.

“I recognize that our positions are very different, however, I would consider it a personal favor if you would call me ‘Hiren.’ There are enough Senators and military leaders who call me by my title as it is. I’d prefer to count you amongst that small group of people who are more...familiar with me.” He only put a small hint of sternness into his tone, but that was apparently enough to get through to her that he was serious about that request.

“As you wish...Hiren.” Her smirk sent a jolt of warmth through him. The Praetor had never much cared one way or another for his name, but the way this pretty little Human said it made several feelings stir beneath his otherwise calm surface. He watched as she handed her glass to Letant and clasped her hands behind her back. “Shall we?”

“Walk with me,” he said as he nodded his head in agreement. They were silent until they stepped out onto the balcony overlooking the steep drop leading to the edge of the Apnex Sea. Beneath the silvery light of the moon, Hiren watched as his companion stepped up to the railing and took a deep, bracing breath of sea air. The curve of her alien ears and the pleasing softness of her brow made him wish to skim his fingers over every inch of her just to know if her skin felt as soft as it looked. “I must admit, lhhei, I don’t know much of Human philosophy.”

“That’s alright. I know absolutely nothing of Romulan philosophy,” she said offering him a small smile. “I’ve spent quite a bit of time with Letant, but beyond my general observations of him and his behavior, I must say, your people are almost entirely a mystery to me.”

“Ah, then I fervently hope that I’ll make a good impression,” he said allowing his eyes to skim over her face in more detail. There was a subtle blush on her cheeks for which he assumed the Romulan ale was responsible - although, he did hope that it also had something to do with him.

“I’m certain you will, Hiren. You already represented your people admirably during your speech tonight.” The Praetor subconsciously puffed himself up a little, preening at her praise.

“One of my more eloquent addresses, in my opinion,” he noted glancing out at the waves. A light laugh trickled from the lady at his side, and he lifted an eyebrow as he turned back to her quizzically. “You disagree?”

“No, but I see your ego is no less inflated than Letant’s. I’ll be more careful about how I phrase my compliments in future.” She sounded almost as mischievous as she had with Letant.

“Humility is not often found in large quantities within Romulans. Surely you’ve realized that by now?”

“Oh, naturally. Some people find it annoying, but, to me, that’s part of what makes your people so intriguing,” she said turning to face him fully and leaning against the railing. “There’s a saying on Earth, though: ‘Pride goeth before the fall.’”

Hiren’s tongue darted out to wet his lips briefly at her insinuation and took a step closer, keeping eye contact with her the whole time.

“And...where exactly do you expect me to fall, dear lady?” He couldn’t contain the smirk that curled his lips at the way her eyes widened a fraction. Were those her pheromones that were clouding his mind so thoroughly?

The Ambassador looked up into his eyes and swallowed visibly before she answered.

“I don’t know you well enough to tell yet, Hiren.” Her voice was small and a little shaky, and a brief thought that he was the hunter and she his prey flitted through the Praetor’s imagination. That was a game he would dearly love to play with her. It was wise of her to remain guarded for now, though. After all, they’d only just met.

“We’ll have to remedy that, won’t we?” He couldn’t keep the flirtatious tone from his voice. Her eyes darted down to his lips for barely a moment, but he noticed - oh, he definitely noticed - the hunger that was there, even if it only lasted a split second. And it was hunger. Of that he was very certain. Letant had told him that Humans used their mouths for intimacy. Hiren had attempted to ‘kiss’ her hand earlier in the night, but he was unsure if he’d done it correctly. Now he desperately wanted a more personal demonstration of how that action was accomplished when done correctly. “Would you consider joining me for the midday meal tomorrow? There’ll be no need to stand upon ceremony. It’ll be just the two of us. If you can stand being around an arrogant Romulan for that long, of course.”

“Well...it’ll be a test of my endurance, but I think I can handle one measly little meal with you.” Hiren’s smile widened, and he was about to say something witty when her fingertips brushed against the side of his hand, trailing lazily up toward his wrist. His breath hitched and his mouth dropped open in surprise. Did she know of Romulan hand play? To touch the ruler of the Empire so brazenly in a public area... Had she any idea how she’d just enticed him?

The gleam in her eye told him she had at least a vague idea of what she’d done. If she’d been his already, she’d be in for a long night for forcing him to hold his composure during such an important event. Of course, that behavior just reinforced what Letant had said about her: she was an ideal mate for a Romulan and much too good for any pathetic Human male to claim. She deserved the best, which Hiren would strive to be for her.

Tamping down his physical reaction to her, Hiren looked to one of the floral arrangements at the side of the door. Quick as a flash, he’d snapped up one of the Sea Lilies and tucked it carefully into her hair.

“There. You already fit the scenery to perfection, but now it fits you, as well,” he murmured as a blush crept up her cheeks to the tips of her non-pointed ears. “Perhaps tomorrow I’ll be able to focus on more than just your beauty so that we can actually discuss philosophy as we’d planned.”

“I’d like that,” she replied quietly. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then, Hiren. Thanks for the chat.”

Just like that, she’d stepped around him and back into the banquet hall teeming with people. Once he’d lost sight of her, Hiren leaned on the railing and let out a heavy breath. This Human girl was dangerous if he was already thinking of her in such a familiar manner. Letant hadn’t told him she would be that good of a catch.

--

The next morning, I was awakened by my door chime. Groaning into my pillow, I called for whoever it was to come in and blearily climbed out of bed. Wrapping myself up in a warm, fluffy bathrobe, I peered out of the bedroom to see Letant lounging on my couch  as if he owned the place. He smirked as soon as I stepped into his field of vision.

“Ah, I see the alcohol affected you more than you let on last night. Your head must’ve been positively swimming by the time I returned you to your quarters,” he said as I shuffled over and curled up next to him on the couch with a small grunt. Without a moment’s hesitation, the Senator reached over and pulled me closer to him so I could lean against his side. “Well, you haven’t called me a bastard yet, so I take it your talk with Hiren was pleasant? You certainly seemed exuberant when you rejoined me after your walk with him last night.”

“You weren’t s’pposed to introduce me to someone actually nice, you smug ale sponge, you,” I grumbled against his shoulder. A smooth laugh poured from his throat and I buried my face further into the soft material of his tunic. “I’m serious. You were supposed to introduce me to yet another bigoted, pompous ass of a man so I could spend my days laughing at people with you instead of wondering what to wear to lunch with the Praetor of the entire fucking Romulan Empire–”

“You’re having lunch together? You didn’t tell me that last night.” Letant pounced on that piece of information, and I nodded my head silently from my curled up position. “Then I shall keep my mischief to a minimum today.”

“Oh no you don’t! You don’t get to start chaos then run off like you usually do. You got me into this, and I need your help figuring out what outfit would be appropriate.” I grabbed his arm firmly as if to keep him here, but he just rested his chin atop my head. “I don’t want to make an ass of myself.”

“Never fear. I’d never let you go into something like this blindly. First, however, I think you might need my hangover cure, am I right?”

“And whose fault is that?” I snarked looking up at him.

“What can I say? I enjoy your laughter and you give me so much more of it when you’ve had alcohol. You know I wouldn’t allow anything to happen to you, sweet girl.”

“Of course I do. Why else do you think I allow myself to drink so much of that blue warp plasma you call ale?”

“At least we don’t drink that synthetic swill that is supposedly alcohol,” he retorted, and I couldn’t help but giggle against his side. We reclined there for a little while longer before Letant extricated himself and went to the replicator. He returned with a glass of what looked like tar - a sight I’d become quite accustomed to after many nights of overindulging in Romulan ale in his company. Even if I never got too severely intoxicated, Romulan ale caused the worst hangovers in existence, so this horrid black goop was a necessary evil. “You know the drill. Drink until your tongue feels fuzzy, then close your eyes till the sensation goes away.”

I accepted the glass with a grimace and did as he instructed. When I closed my eyes and leaned my head back, Letant ran his fingers gently through my hair. Eventually, the pounding in my head stopped and the lights didn’t seem as painful.

“Better?” I hummed quietly at his question and turned my head to look at him. “What is it?”

“Oh nothing. I just don’t know what I’d do without you. Aside from having a diminished number of hangovers, that is,” I murmured, and he gave me a fond smile.

“Always so sentimental. Come. Let’s sort through your wardrobe. I’m sure there’s something we can work with, even if Human clothes aren’t quite as stylish as Romulan ones.” He stood and made his way toward my bedroom, and I followed close at his heels.

“At least we don’t look like we’re trying to disguise ourselves as couches.” He let out a bark of laughter.

“Just remember that this particular ‘couch’ is the reason you have a date!”

~*~*~

Romulan words:

shaoi kon = formal greeting from inferior to superior

shaoi dan = formal greeting between equals

lhhei = madam

#deepspacedukat fic #Praetor Hiren x Reader #Hiren x Reader #mild innuendo

[suuho]

TWOE was nice but the ending felt a little anticlimatic, like the mission was pointless for the leads. They would literally die for each other and then it finishes like that? Junmo only went undercover to gain Euijeong's family respect. But also it was too dangerous to begin with and the lead couple would never leave that unscattered. The positive aspect was how many feelings were involved. Loved how Junmo ended up caring for Haryeon and she was literally "You know what? Who needs this, who need this place? I'll help him because he cares about me". LOVED how much she ignored the revelation since it didn't change anything. Junmo wanted to see her out of that, regardless of marital status or profession. But in a slightly different note, I saw that you said in another ask that "the director also mentioned that half of the drama was basically written by ji changwook". How? I'm genuinely curious since that's kind of fascinating.

i have a few issues with the ending, mainly the pacing of the last episode(s) and how some of the plot was wrapped up in a less sophisticated manner than i would have preferred. but then again, the thing is that i feel like people seem to forget is that this show was called the worst of evil and mainly revolved around junmo’s descent into that aforementioned evil, from a character stereotype that is seen as supposedly good (devoted husband, countryside kid, police officer). in the end, the main conflict of the show was less so between junmo and gicheol, or junmo and the police force, but junmo and himself, and how he could accept the man he has become.

so, in a way, the ending did that. junmo’s change in character was most heavily signified by his involvement with gicheol, so no wonder that in the end it came down to just that. it was also very obvious from the beginning that gicheol would have to die; he is the most outward character and the main aggressor/trigger for junmo shedding his (arguably already skewed) moral compass. the jealousy, the resentment, the violence and the realization that junmo would not only die for a man like gicheol but also kill for him is a lot of the reason why we see him change so drastically in the show (and why his affection moves further away from euijeong and towards someone like haeryeon).

anyways. the thing is, junmo might have wanted the approval of euijeong’s family, but in the end i think it was sort of the point that the stakes they have created in this case became increasingly higher for the people involved, personally. the police does not care about that; multiple times dohyung and euijeong ask for the investigation to be stopped due to junmo’s safety, but they never do that. to the police, this is a valuable case that will reflect well upon their public standing, but for gicheol, euijeong, junmo and dohyung, it is a matter of life and death (literally). so, in a way i feel like they showed the difference in how this case is passively dealt with by the outside and how it changes the lives of everyone involved on the inside.

also yes, i agree! i love how they handled haeryeon’s character in the end, and her exit was very well deserved. bibi did a good job with the role, and she left pretty much just as she arrived. very nicely done, and i’m very satisfied with how things were wrapped up for her. in a lesser drama, a character like hers would have been killed off; both female characters survived the show which is very pleasing, or maybe i’m just too used to that not happening (looking at you, the devil judge).

on the topic of jcw directing the show—very intriguing to me as well, and i think it was a mix of in-depth conversation and actual, hands on direction. some pictures dropped of changwook literally directing the show, i will include them here. if you watch any of the interviews they have done for the show, it is very clear how involved jwc was in the creation of the show, and i don’t think that is necessarily a bad thing. the way he talks about the characters and even just the purpose of their action scenes, for example, is very enlightening (he has clear ideas of who these people (gicheol, junmo, euijeong) are). you can tell he was very, very passionate about this project.

#ask #heartlittle #sorry if this is rambly!! #all in all i liked the show and loved what it did with the relationships in the show #plotwise it could have been tighter/more sophisticated but eh