#apparently there's a limit for how many gifs I can put

[dungeonpuppykai]

When I want to read dark fics, your writing just hits. One of my guilty pleasures recently has been dark!winter soldier stuff and I was hoping you could write one.

If you can, can you make it where Bucky is still the Winter Soldier and finds himself completely enamored with the reader. He stalks her briefly and decides he has to have her. So where it gets dark is mean, brooding soldier kidnaps reader and makes her his housewife. (I’d like to think that some of Bucky’s 40ness is still there along with some good old fashion 50s idealization where he basically molds her into being his perfect little housewife.)

He can still be with hydra or not but this thought has been buzzing around in my head recently and I personally am not good at writing dark fics.

Um, hell yes I can! Also, not me having almost exactly the same idea (it was in my drafts and I totally merged it with yours). Sorry for being late uni kicks my butt hard TT. Also, please note that this is a headcanon kind of situation type deal but apparently there's a limit to how many bullets you can put per post so that's why it looks the way it does! Hope you like it still. Unedited ❤️

Warning(s): Dubcon (just to be safe), stalking, kidnapping, housewife kink, stockholm syndrome, spanking, misogyny, domestic discipline, breeding kink (dash), age gap (I mean, man is over a century old). Contains mature content. Browse at your own discretion. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT! 

You are absolutely shit faced as you stumble out the backdoor of the club with two of your girlfriends tangled around each arm. 

You are all giggling, stumbling and slurring out curses, trying to shush each other as you trudge your forms to your apartment complex that is close by because driving is obviously out of question now. 

Were it not for your overly intoxicated state, you would have totally noticed the dark silhouette that stills in the dark alley facing the backdoor. 

The man masked in the darkness tilts his head to the side as he tries to read your party, having gotten caught off guard by the sudden bursting open of the door. 

One of your friends stagger in his direction and he moves back, his labored breaths warm in his mask, watching the girl as she retches her guts out.

Silence follows the wheezes and gags of the girl.

Then there is a sound– a melody in the air.

Soldat feels something stir within himself.

Something his masters did their best to suppress. 

Not that they would be doing any more of that. 

They needed to be alive to do something like that ever again.

His eyebrows furrow as he scans your group for the source of the sound; you. 

You are laughing.

At your friend that is throwing up.

Hands clutching your hurting sides, eyes scrunched, head thrown back, flushed and sweaty face vibrant under the bright moonlight as your hair frames it in the most perfect way possible. 

A shaky breath escapes the man covered in tears and blood of his captors and oppressors.  

His eyes scan your form. 

Beautiful. 

His metal hand clenches into a fist and he makes his resolve almost instantly;

Mine.

Soldat cannot recall much of his past except for a few things like his name.

But he knows that it has been a long, long time. 

And it's time to go home.

But a home is not walls and concrete. 

It is the people that live in it. 

His head is a mess as he scales a wall and follows you to your building, skipping from roof to roof effortlessly with a careful eye on your form.

James had finally broken free against hydra yesterday morning while they were experimenting something more brutal. 

And during the following hours, all various leaders that made the organization what it was were dead.

For what is a structure without its pillars?

He had plundered them single handedly. 

And now he was a slave no more.

James would live, and he would take.

Just as had been taken from him.

You woke up the next morning, sprawled across your bed.

As you winced and sat up, you could swear you had knocked out on the couch last night. 

But since you couldn't teleport, it was probably just a gap in your memory.

Right?

The second sign was the painkillers and water next to you on the bedside table.

The third was the window of your room that was open wide.

But you shook your head as you were behind on your schedule for the day and got on with your busy university student life. 

You should have taken notice of the signs. 

How things would always somehow work out when you were struggling with some sort of a problem. 

Regardless of whatever type of an issue it was. 

Your friends joked about it as Divine Providence. 

And Divine it was, you lived to learn. 

When it happened, it wasn't after a dramatic chase or anything. 

You had simply woken up in a room you had never seen before, tucked in the bed like it had been yours for ages.

What even happened? 

You had finished an assignment before heading to bed for an early class the next morning. 

But now you were timidly surveying the room, more and more panic filling you by the passing second. 

The house is beautiful and bright outside the dark room you had woken up in, big glass windows facing tall trees and various other type of greenery outside. 

A loud gasp escaped you when you were somewhere in the middle of the living room.

You turned around to find a huge and by that you mean, giant man standing a few steps away from you.

You could swear he wasn't there a minute ago.

But now he is towering over you, head tilted to the side as if interacting with something from an outer planet, eyes scanning your form slowly. 

As if he's savouring the sight of you in a…

Your blood runs cold as you look down to realize that you are dressed in a white sundress with yellow and red flowers printed on it.

Your eyes widen in horror.

Because you had been wearing your PJs last night–

Or, rather, the last time you were awake.

Before you can say anything, he extends a hand towards you invitingly, nodding sideways to what seems to be the kitchen. 

Something in his hand glints in the sunlight coming from the windows.

It is when your panicked vision realizes that the hand and the whole arm is made up of metal, your body backs away.

With your mouth agape, you demand shakily.

"Who the hell are you?" 

He sighs. 

"What the hell is this place? Why am I here? What the fuck is going on?!"

The man's features scrunch in disapproval. 

Your choice of words is much unappreciated.

"Good little wives don't ask questions." 

In his angry, fried and entitled delusional mind you are as much in love with him as he is.

Otherwise, why would you just accept all the favours he did for you during all these months he was building a perfect home for the both of you and your future children?

He takes a step in your direction and you leap back.

After a short game of cat and mouse, you are trapped against the glass window.

He is too close. 

There is a heavy looking vase on the table next to you.

The shock on his face is evident.

He hadn't expected you, his wife, such a small and innocent girl to disrespect her husband like this. 

You whimper in horror when he doesn't budge against the decoration piece exploding against his brow bone.

James' eyes narrow as he leans in, a thick stream of blood running down the hurt side of his face.

"Bad girl" and you take off without a second thought.

Thankfully, the door is straight ahead and surprisingly unlocked.

You run without looking back. 

The man is not chasing you like you expected. 

But you don't want to stick around and find out why. 

Though the reason is soon revealed when you race through the little garden and out of the fence door. 

You are looking behind you and at the house so it is not until you are a good distance away from it do you turn your head to look ahead. 

Icy horror pierces its way down your spine.

Sand and palm trees dominate your vision as far as you can see where you are and your right side.

A devastatingly vast ocean washes the shore you are running on from the left side.

That doesn't stop you until your body gives up after a few minutes. 

You ran into the jungle for some cover.

Sobs and tears burst out of you as you collapse on a blanket of leaves.

Your body is weak and confused. 

Many hours pass.

You wander and starve.

You hide and shake.

You tip toe and give up.

There are wild animals all around you.

You can hear them.

It's terrifying. 

So terrifying that when you hear the stranger's voice some time after dusk, you are almost glad.

Are you done? His bright blue eyes that you can make out even in the dim light ask you silently. 

"How'd you even find me?" You were sure you had run a good couple miles.

He refuses to respond until you place your shaking hand in his awaiting metal one. 

"I can smell you" his accent is almost foreign as he pulls you up, frowning at your hurt bare feet. 

It took you hours to get to where you were but it only takes James a few minutes to get you back home. 

"Before I clean you up, I need to punish you." You are baffled. "Good wives don't run away from their husbands." 

He doesn't listen to any of your protests and reason that day or ever.

"Little girls don't know what is right for them. Only their husbands can decide that." 

He thoroughly washes you that night after giving you the worst spanking, paying no mind to your begging and crying.

You are sniffling as you sit on the bathroom counter wrapped up in a towel an hour later, your sore ass buzzing under you.

Your captor is kneeling in front of you as he tends to your hurt feet. 

He tells you your rules as he does so.

"First, you are to always obey me no matter what. Second, your body belongs to me as I am your husband, so you should not try to deny me of it because it will never end well for you. Third, you will respect me or you will live to learn to do so. Four, you will do your chores like a good wife and fulfill your wifely responsibilities. Five, you are to always accept your punishments and thank me for disciplining you after I am through with you, should you choose to break a rule or misbehave. Six, you will not indulge in any activity that can potentially corrupt your little mind. Seven, you will speak with respect and never out of turn. Eight, you are to always greet me when you wake up or if I have been gone a while. Nine, you can try to run. I will never stop you. But when you return home after failing, you will take your punishment obediently. Ten, you must never touch yourself. You are mine and mine alone." 

Since the spanking is still fresh on your skin you panic a little and fear forgetting them.

But you find them pasted on the fridge the following morning because he knew you were too dumb to remember them.

A few days pass before you explode about not being his wife and call him crazy.

"You weren't saying that when I did you all those favours." 

Horror dawns upon you as you realize that it was him all along.

You don't give up easily, though.

You try to run more times than you can keep count.

Every direction, every plan and every map you make proves to be useless.

Because the last time you do so, you realize that you are on a fucking island.

And since there is a dock near the house with the pantry never running low on groceries, James has a means of transport hidden somewhere is no mystery. 

But you don't know when he does it. 

So far you haven't been able to figure out a pattern. 

Either he was right about you being dumb or your captor was really good at staying one step ahead of you.

Anyways, you have no choice but to return to him crushed and sobbing as always.

He is reading something when you collapse between his legs; ready to accept your punishment as you have learnt that hiding and denying only makes it worse. 

James isn't so bad if you follow his rules. 

He is just a kidnapper and a misogynist with dangerous reflexes. 

His face is smug as he puts the book away. You have noticed that he is not as stiff and troubled as he used to be when you first woke up here months ago at this point. 

"How was it, doll?" He loves to hear you talk about it as he bruises your ass. "Any luck?" 

Today, though, something different happens.

You don't know if it's resignation and surrender finally settling in or if you have actually started to like this life.

How James gives you a nod of approval and pats your head rewardingly whenever you follow all your rules without any trouble.

The way he lets you stay up past your bed time (yes you have one because good wives are healthy for their husbands) to read a book or watch a movie.

If you were extra good and talked to him (though he was a man of a few words) and helped him out with a little farming thing he had going on in the backyard/patio, he would even let you sleep in the following morning. 

No stress or pulling yourself through classes and tight budgets.

Just being what he considered good and then whatever you would mention briefly would be in the house within the next few days.

When he is done punishing you, you thank him and apologize according to routine. But then you hug him.

You tell yourself it is due to the sad reality that your torment is your comfort.

Has to be.

You have no choice.

And then something unexpected happens in the course of the next few days. 

While trying to make the best out of this situation, you start to notice the little things, quirks and rituals, habits and mannerisms of this man. 

How he doesn't say anything if he doesn't like a certain ingredient or condiment in something you cooked but pushes it aside to use as compost later.

The way he holds you extra tight some times when he mutters a foreign language in his sleep. 

How he stares at the scary metal arm after a long day while waiting for you to finish up dinner.

Or the way he struggles to hold himself back whenever you are in a close proximity to him because you cried once he crept his hand up your ass in a sexual way. 

You don't get him sometimes.

His morals are as mysterious as him. 

Because he kidnapped you and forced you to be his wife in a '40's way, strips you to spank and humiliate you during punishments, then bathes and comforts you in his own way of silently holding you against his chest in his arms until you calm down.

Your tears don't effect him. 

But then he refuses to touch you sexually after the one time he tried.

It takes you a while to make the most peace that you can with James, but it happens eventually because you don't have a choice.  

The loneliness starts to drive you mad otherwise.

You are helping him with his farming one day when you collapse.

James isn't happy to find out that you haven't had any of your daily water intake for the day. 

After he is sure you are hydrated, it is punishment time because caring for yourself is also a rule you are supposed to never break.

Your ass is red and seething by the time he's done. Everything is pretty much routine except that you don't sit up to apologize and maybe hug him like usual.

Not even when he pats your ass to signal that he's done.

"H- Hubby?" You sniffle as you use the endearment.

It had been a proud discovery of yours.

James always gave in a little whenever you used it.

"Yes, little mouse?" You bite your lips as your thighs tremble.

Fuck.

"Y- You say we are husband and wife…"

"What about it?"

You bite your lip as you push your ass out and towards him, letting your legs part.

"Then why don't we act like it?" James is good at concealing his emotions and showing restraint.

But he can't help the way his cock hardens at the sight your pretty red thighs reveal to him.

Your perfect pussy is glistening with your creamy arousal, the entrance of your vagina blinking to indicate its need to be filled.

Fuck. 

Though James starts off small and slow with his fingers rubbing your cunt, the night ends with him balls deep into your pussy with his length rearranging your organs.

Whatever was left of you to own for him, he does so after that night.

You cannot go on for long without having some sort of physical proximity to him.

The sex is wild and it's amazing with his stamina. 

It is also instrumental in bringing you two closer than ever. 

James opens up to you slowly, but only when you ask about it.

You had done so in the past as well. 

But since it's genuine curiosity now, he feels comfortable telling you all about it.

It is a lot for you to take in and you almost don't believe him until he shows you some of his belongings from his time.

Things drift on as smoothly for a while as the waves outside your house.

And then comes the ultimate test. 

Which decides the course of your future with him.

He is still asleep one morning when you wake up.

It isn't a usual occurrence. 

But you had introduced him to comics lately and he had been obsessed with them despite claiming that they were too childish and unrealistic. 

While he had a metal arm himself…

You adjust the quilt before getting ready for the day and heading out to make breakfast. 

It is when you realize in panic that there aren't any apples left even though James had asked you to make a grocery list (that started when he started trusting you more) and you had assured him that you had enough apples for a while.

"I am gonna get the hairbrush today, I swear to God!" You mutter to yourself as you rush through the house like a headless chicken. 

Thankfully, your garden had an apple tree so you could save yourself from a breakfast spanking at the very least.

But something standing next to the dock catches your attention before you can the apples you try to budge free from their branches.

A motorboat. 

Before you can decide what you think of it, you are standing next to it on the dock.

It has fuel and a map. The key is in the ignition.

You narrow your eyes and feel your head splitting. 

A lot goes through your mind.

Flashbacks play before your eyes.

It is almost a full circle moment. 

And then you are standing in front of James who is seated on a stool next to the kitchen counter you use for dining. 

His head is lowered as he sips on his coffee and stabs at the breakfast you prepared with a fork.

"Hubby?" Your captor freezes before he slowly looks up at you. 

The blue of his eyes is troubled. He is in disbelief. As though he wasn't expecting you to be standing here.

"There is a boat outside. Do you think someone could be–" 

"You didn't leave." His voice is heavy. 

"What kind of a wife leaves her home?"

You two just stare at each other for a while. 

No words exchanged.

Then, for the first time ever, James gets up and hurriedly closes the distance between you two, enveloping you in his arms before pushing you against the wall behind you.

"I felt so angry and wronged that I thought I could take anything because I deserved it after everything that happened to me but… I love you too much, mouse."

He has never spoken this earnestly before.

"I just realized that I do too."

James kisses you passionately before you wrap yourself around him and close your eyes blissfully. 

He tightens his own arms around you gladly.

He would have hated to end up back on square one with you had you chosen to try and escape. 

The boat would have blown up a small fuse that would have been loud enough for his enhanced hearing if someone– you, were to turn the keys in the ignition.

Yes, he wasn't expecting you to be back but only too soon.

It was a test and you passed. 

As always, James stuck to his ways and rewarded you for being such a good wife. 

By giving you a ring, a new wardrobe and a baby that was the first of many to come.

.

What do you think hAH-

#ask kai #anon love #bucky barnes #bucky barnes smut #winter soldier #winter soldier smut #dark!bucky barnes x reader #dark!bucky barnes #dark!bucky x you #dark!bucky x reader #dark!bucky smut #bucky barnes x oc #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barns x reader #bucky barns fanfiction #bucky barns imagine #bucky barns x y/n #winter soldier x reader #winter soldier x you #winter soldier x y/n

[neteyamsilly]

i will soften every edge, hold the world to its best | 3

summary ;; Sullys stick together. You learn the hard way what happens when you don't. PART 2 | PART 4 pairings ;; dad!jake sully x reader, mom!neytiri x reader, sully family x reader genre ;; pure angst and family feels notes / explanations ;; descriptions of blood and violence incoming, beware! shout out to the ppl who predicted the stuff in this chapter LMAO so um... i couldnt tag everybody who asked when i said i would... there's apparently a limit to how many people you can tag. please forgive me 😭 im not taking any tagging requests anymore since i cant do it. so sorry about that,,,, seriously also, thank you so much for 1160 followers! i still cant fucking believe it... daddy issues solidarity 🤙🏻🤙🏻

“Hi there Corporal, you hear me? Yeah, I know you do. As much as I’m charmed by the fatherly love I could give you a big old sloppy wet kiss, we have unfinished business.”

Rain covered the rustling of clothes and the click-clacks of readjusted weapons as concentrated silence hung in the air, thick and heavy like the morning mist swallowing up the forest.

No answer. 

What face could your parents be making right now? Heartbeat in your ears, you tried to hide your shame by looking down, but a jerk on your queue set you straight. the avatar holding you digging his gun sharper in your neck.    

“What, cat got your tongue all of a sudden?” The leader’s stare found yours. “Let me give you a quick remedy.” 

They’d linked your device into another for the sound to be relayed outside and the voice detection range could be wider, in other words, they wanted your father to hear what was happening to you. Your braid was yanked as if the one pulling it wanted to snap it right off your skull, no amount of training could stop the scream torn out of you — all the show just for him. 

The line was deadly still, save for some rustling, crackling static that you could have easily mistaken for hissing.

A ghost of a smile shadowed the man’s face, he extended his rifle to tip your chin up. “Guess we’re gonna have to be louder than that to wake daddy up sweetheart.” 

“Stop!” Father yelled, the unexpected timing of it made you jump. That earned him a group chuckle from the avatars around you. “Stop.”

He talked. He didn’t leave you to fend for yourself in this. Thank Eywa!

“That was fast,” the captor behind you said. 

“Thought you’d have forgotten English by now, playing native.”

“...Quaritch?” 

Quaritch. That awful, awful man from the stories your mother killed? Spider’s father? But… But he was dead. How could sky people know how to cheat death?

“In the flesh.” 

Father’s voice wavered, you’d think he was scared if you didn’t know any better. “That’s impossible.”

“Back from the grave just for you, Jake.”

“Then I’ll just have to put you right back where you belong.”

The squad of avatars openly laughed at that, boisterous, confident, arrogant. 

This was Toruk Makto they were openly mocking. None of them would last for one minute in front of him and yet—

“Quite the teary lovers reunion we’re havin’ here, but you got busy while I was gone, huh?” He looked down at you again, yellow eyes filled with mirth. “I have this tiny bird here we plucked right out of the air. Imagine my surprise to learn she’s yours. Is this the only one, or you got yourself a litter now?”

Silence again. 

“What do you want?”

“Straight to the point as always.” The smug smile momentarily twitched into an unamused, withheld resentment. This man was nearing the end of his capacity to keep taunting. “I don’t think I’ll tell yet. You know I love to be a tease.”

Your ears rotated upwards in treacherous hope at your father's next words. “If you touch one hair on my daughter’s head I swear to god—”

“You exchanged your god for this shithole, Jake. Let’s not kid ourselves now.” Any hint of playing around was gone, now, eyes fixated on something on the ground ahead. “Your daughter will be my guest for a while. Think of it as summer vacation. Don’t worry, unlike the Na’vi, we’re very hospitable.” His thumb brushed over a button. “Until next time.”

“Fucking bastard—”

With one beep, the call was over. Quaritch was touching the band around his neck this time. “Iron Sky, Blue on Actual. We are standing by for extract, over.” 

You began to tussle against the avatar behind your back. “No! No! Let me go!” 

“Be advised. We're bringing in a high value prisoner.”

“Dad’s really gonna flay her alive this time, I can’t wait.” Lo’ak, positioned just behind the flap of the tent to not be seen from the outside as he peeked with one eyeball just in case, was watching his parents vehemently yell at each other in whispers that started out loud, but got hushed probably to not reach him and his siblings. Aggressive limb gestures were flying in the air, and at one point, his mom had tried to run off somewhere and was forcefully stopped. 

Dad was currently pacing around like a wild animal with one hand permanently stuck rubbing his face, and mom turned away from him, holding her forehead. “They’re really going at it, huh?

Kiri was not amused with his insistence to breach their privacy. “What’s so interesting about watching this kind of thing?”

“Catharsis?” He remarked in English, feeling sophisticated. “You remember Spider talking about it? Purification and emotional cleansing through relief that you’re not going through the horrible tragedy, the character on stage is.” 

“You’re normally so dumb.” Lo’ak bore his fangs at her matter-of-fact tone of voice. “Your brain only comes back on when it’s about chaos.”

“I’m petty, and what about it?” A tilt of his head to dare Kiri to ask for her point, then his attention was thwarted by an incomprehensible cry from his mother. She was pushing dad from his arms, furious like Lo’ak had never seen before as the upset man tried to hold her more. “Look at mom and dad breathing fire at each other! You think they’re discussing how to punish her?”

“Stop spying already skxawng, mom will be angry if she sees you. We’re supposed to be in bed.”

“Shut up, I’m trying to listen here!” His ears were tilting at every angle to make out any words that reached to him as nothing but a cluster of broken sounds. “Why did they have to go far?” 

“Because they wanted to be away from peeping toms like you?”

“And you’re still here too, so?” Lo’ak gave his sister a meaningful look. “I know you wanna see too.”

“Ugh!” Kiri shoved out her tongue at him, eyes dead. “And it’s not funny, by the way! They are fighting. Stop being happy about it.”

He knew they were fighting about his older sister, and that she’d get all the heat and fallout from it the moment she was back. Lo’ak’s head was full of what he could get out of it, or what to ask her for in return for helping her out in her detention. So satisfying to be the sibling who wasn’t in trouble. He should do it more, actually. “It is funny when it’s not about me.” 

“You’re sick for taking joy in another’s suffering.”

“Oh, I’m doomed, then.” Kiri took whatever fat was on his thin arm between her thumb and forefinger, and twisted. Lo’ak had to blink away the tears that rushed to his eyes, snatching his limb away from the displeased girl and pushing her away in return — he was annoyed at how much that hurt, why was that so damaging for no reason? “Yeouch! What the hell?”

“Will it kill you to practice mindfulness once in a while?” 

He raised his voice’s pitch to mock the wobbly, ear-scratching whine of yours, and exaggerated his body movements to match, too. “I hate you!”  

“Gross.” She tried to shove him, he caught her hands in the air, pushing her back and getting the spiteful annoyance of his sister as a result. “Dad was actually hurt by that.” Lo’ak’s eyes could roll down the hills by themselves the way that sounded, but Kiri, as always, was bothered so inexplicably. “I don’t like this. I have a bad feeling.”

That bad feeling was the herald of dad’s upcoming cranky ill-temper and what would follow after you inevitably had to come crawling back home with tail between your legs, Neteyam dragging you from the scruff of your neck. Lo’ak was refusing to sleep so he could enjoy the fight. 

“Me personally, am over the moon, ikran duty is so gonna be off my hands. For months.” He halted at the idea that just went off in his head, tail swishing with the hype. “I wanna tell Spider. I’ll go get him.”

“Absolutely not. You sneak off now and they’ll laser-focus all the anger on you!” Kiri was pointing a warning hand at him, but slowly lowered it, one corner of her mouth twitching up. She was holding back amusement. “Hey, you know what? Nevermind, you can go. I want you to go. I have to see this.”

“Ha-ha.” Lo’ak’s tail stuttered, losing enthusiasm. “Attempted murder, much?”

“Guys, what’s going on…”

Upon the unexpected voice that wobbled its way into their conversation, they both looked down to see Tuk gripping her weaved blanket with one hand and dragging it on the floor as she made her way to them, the other rubbing her eyes one by one so sleep dripping from them would fly away.

“See, you woke her up! What do we do now?”

“You woke her up by yelling, why is it my fault now?”

“I didn’t, you—”

“Did too.”

“Did not.”

“Did too.”

“Did n—”

“Guys…” Tuk pulled on Kiri’s hand, and the foreign object she was clutching the whole time distracted Lo’ak. It must have dug into the older one’s skin that she carefully picked it up to inspect. The ear pieces they took off before they went to sleep. This one was Kiri’s.  “Neteyam’s calling. You didn’t hear…”

Grinning, Lo’ak snatched it up and skipped backwards and put it in his own ear, ignoring Kiri’s hushed yells to give it back now and the groans about ruining it with his stinky, cheesy earwax. He had to keep bouncing around, the girl was chasing him around the tent. “Bro! Tell her she’s sooo dead. Dad’s literally keeping guard in front of the tent—”

“Lo’ak, quit it.” Neteyam’s tremulous answer was harsh. Lo’ak’s smile wavered as he dodged Kiri’s arm and jumped over discarded cups on the floor, knocking over wooden spoons. “I need you to tell me what’s happening over there.”

“Aw, baby’s so scared to come back she needs to make a game plan first?” He laughed, slapping Kiri’s hands away. “I’ll only tell if she gives back my karambit knife.”

His older brother sighed, a bit too exasperated. 

“Yeah, I’m not letting that one go and I’m also making it your problem—”

“Lo’ak, she isn’t here.”

He stopped dead in his tracks. “What?”

“She isn’t here. I couldn’t find her.” Kiri bumped into him, unable to stop herself at the right time to hit the brakes due to how abruptly Lo’ak had stilled. They’d almost tumbled over. “Dad told me to wait until he contacts her and I’ve been waiting for minutes. Now tell me what’s going on over there.”

“Bro, you’re serious?”

“Why wouldn’t I be serious, skxawng!” 

He turned to Kiri in disgusted discomfort, who had damn-near glued her own ear to his to hear better. “Forget months, I’ll be free for years. Dad’s not gonna let her take one step off the camp anymore.”

The girl would stomp her foot if she was a couple years younger. “What’s this about?”

And Neteyam would shake Lo’ak from the neck for ignoring him this long while he was fussing. “Tell me already you—!”

“They’re having a fight bro.” He leaned better to peep outside the tent. “Yeah.”

“She came back? Why didn’t you tell me?”

It was uncommon for Neteyam to completely disregard the previous input he’d been given. Lo’ak didn’t understand this level of anxiety. “Are you having a brain fart? Would we be having this conversation if she was here? It’s mom and dad who are fighting.”

It wasn’t that serious — on the contrary, his sister was quite simple to understand. She didn’t want to be found and had changed her place of hiding. End of story. The golden boy’s worrywart nature was keeping him from reasoning. 

“Don’t be a smartass.” Lo’ak practically felt Neteyam’s want to land a loud smack on his back. “Were they only able to reach her, then? Is that why they’re fighting?”

“You’re asking me?—”

The older boy began to grumble under his breath. “This is why I called Kiri.”

Said girl’s ears perked up over picking her name from the static-surrounded line. Lo’ak snorted. “Ouch, bro.”

Kiri shook him from the elbow. “Me? What about me?”

“Great title for your autobiography.”

Kiri raised her arms to give him a beating and Lo’ak was already bolting away from anywhere near her vicinity. The siblings didn’t even take notice of the line with Neteyam going dark as they focused on their own play-scuffle for a while. 

Until Lo’ak bumped into someone.

It wasn’t Tuk. 

Shoulders pulled into himself, he turned around torturously freaked out to find dad standing there like a ghost, his tactical vest packed to the brim and gun hanging from his back the way they wore their bows. 

The blue of his skin had faded into an ashier tone, amber eyes wide and bloodshot, the veins on the normally put together Olo’eyktan’s forehead were bulging, even a socially clueless person would pick up something was seriously wrong. He commanded cold authority of the battlefield simply by the way he stood, immediately triggering Lo’ak into soldier mode.  

He took a few steps back, chin hanging low at the lightless, unblinking stare his father pushed down on him. “Sir.”

All the sleepiness that had Tuk unresponsive and nodding off through Lo’ak and Kiri’s push-and-pull was knocked out of her at the sight, she was now unnerved and frightened. “Dad?”

The man’s intensity was somehow eased by his youngest’s reaction, but he held back from taking her in his arms like he normally would to comfort her, didn’t even care to remark on how they were supposed to be sleeping — how they’d woken their little sister up, instead focusing on Lo’ak. “I want you all to listen well. Your mother and I are heading out for a minute and your grandmother will be with you soon — Neteyam is Oscar-Mike to come back here. Stay put and don’t go anywhere, understand?” His finger pointed accusingly at him. “Don’t cause trouble. Looking at you boy, what I’m saying here is Marine proof. I’m at the end of my wits here, don’t even think about slipping a tail out of this tent.” 

The potent severity of whatever the hell was making him this agitated to the point of a voice so hoarse it was unrecognizable got the wheels in Lo’ak’s head whirring. “What’s happening, dad?”

“One child!” The thundering shout came down on him with the force of a falling mountain, making Lo’ak jump out of his skin. “I need one child of mine to listen to me without asking any questions today!” Dad’s voice broke when Tuk whined, he shut his eyes as if he was in physical pain, and flexed his jaw, shaking his head and pulling the girl in from her shoulders to soothe her. Still no direct hugging. “Jesus Christ.”

“I’m sorry sir,” Lo’ak said immediately, distraught by the over-the-top reaction, hands unknowingly curling into fists by his sides. Whenever that sky people word ‘Jesus’ slipped from dad not having any control between the border of his two languages, the boy knew it was demanding gravitas. “I heard you CFB.”

“Good.” He thinned his lips. “Kiri, please.”

Lo’ak frowned at dad basically asking for her to play her brother’s keeper in Neteyam’s absence in two simple words.

She nodded. “I know dad.”

He caught a glimpse of his mother running in the distance, her father’s bow in her hand. 

Just what was happening? What had you done? 

Eywa, it had to be sky people. 

Dad saw the realization in his face. “Stay,” he emphasized, one final time before he was also gone with the wind. 

Lo’ak wouldn’t have obeyed if it wasn’t for his grandmother arriving just in time, keeping them busy with a story about the arrival of a wounded ikran with no rider.

You realized the gunshot wound puncturing your upper abdomen was there the whole time when the avatars put first aid and later slapped a rectangular sky people bandage on it that helped clotting or whatever it was called, the pain simply not being there had played a big factor in it with the body running on pure adrenaline. 

(Crouching close to you, Quaritch had bragged, “We aren’t so bad after all, huh, sweetheart? It’s called civilization. Your daddy ever taught you about that?”

Civilization, your ass. They needed you. There was nothing well-meaning about what they were doing.

And the nickname had ticked you off, sullying the good memories of father, your head slammed into his nose in full power after a hiss.

“Now my daddy taught me that!” you spat in English as other avatars had tackled you. The man claiming to be Quaritch was smiling as he wiped away the blood trickling down his nose.

What was the point in trying to patch you up if they were going to do this, then?)

You were now a part of an elaborate trap to lure your father in. Bait. The worst position to be in. This was the kind of trouble Lo’ak would get himself in. It was too late to go back now, the mess you’d gotten yourself into had made itself known. 

Think, think! How could you get out of this?

Within the unsleeping forest’s nightly noises chirping all around you, a specific call in the air halted your train of thought. 

It was mom. 

Your parents were here. But how? How did they know where you were, exactly? Dread and expectation pooled in your heart, coexisting in a nauseating mix. 

Father must be thinking that you already caused so much trouble, they couldn’t know you were also hurt, you’d never hear the end of it.

But there was no time to think, the pain you should have been feeling was ebbing its way into your body, and she was calling in the night to inform you to get ready.

All hell broke loose when the man who held you tight from your queue was shot right from the back of his head with an arrow, collapsing right on top of you. 

You couldn’t get away in time to not be crushed by his dead body and promptly got squished between the mossy soil and him, his gun was hurting you, the wound on your stomach getting in the way of you using your core to push the body off. 

How many minutes had passed with you struggling to get him off as a hurricane of bullets roared, you didn’t know (it hurt, pain was climbing towards the threshold) — mom was able to break free from the weight of a whole AMP suit, as you’d heard as a child, a Na’vi was naturally strong, but you couldn’t even crawl out. Panic was a rope tightening around your ribcage as your breathing picked up

All of a sudden, the weight was gone, and the only remaining thing from it was the big gun left from the avatar you found yourself hugging for dear life, eyes wide as saucers. Before you could see whoever had done that, you got hoisted up right back on your feet and tried to run, only to be held tighter and pulled behind the trunk of a tree.

“Hey, it’s me, it’s me!” Clumsy, overwrought hands were cupping your cheeks and — and oh, it was your father. 

You didn’t know whether to be afraid or cry from happiness.

Once he was sure you registered it was him by staring intently in your eyes with that edge of the softness you’d missed so much, his hold shifted to your neck and around your shoulders, and he gave you a look-over, checking for any wounds. Too bad what he was searching for was behind the gun you were holding. “Are you hurt?” He shook you when you were too stunned to answer. “Are you hurt at all?”

“No,” you shook your head automatically, it was weak against the explosions of bullets raining down all around you, but father had picked it up regardless, only focusing on you for the moment.

In the darkness, nobody could see the blood running down your body, that bandage had come out at one point. 

“On my mark, we’re gonna run, okay?” He nodded to you, tomahawk axe in hand coated in a dark substance, commanding your full attention. “Follow me. Ready? Ready?”

You weren’t ready at all, stomach feeling like it was being stabbed at every heartbeat, but you couldn’t tell him that. 

Instead, you ran like hell, moored by father’s taut clutch on your forearm pulling you forward to match his incredible speed dodging roots, bushes and branches. 

Things stopped moving only when you were enveloped in mom’s embrace, consciousness almost flying off from the relief that washed over you. Kisses were peppered along your hairline and forehead, her mumbling your name in gratitude blending with your panting. Tears burned bitter in your eyes, but you couldn’t cry, not when father was looking at you like that, chest rising and falling. You instantaneously remembered why you were holding that gun at the intensity he was radiating, tail escaping between your legs and letting mom hold you. 

At least this way he wasn’t able to objurgate you.  

Over her shoulder, you saw three ikrans instead of two. Heart soaring, you were skipping towards him in pure astonishment in a heartbeat. “Hey buddy!”  

His head lowered down towards you in bird-like movements. In this angle, it looked like he was giving you a razor sharp-toothed big grin. 

“He brought us here,” your mother said. The hand you were going to pet the ikran with stopped midway at her dejected tone. “You have passed Iknimaya, I take it. On your own.”

You didn’t know what to say, feeling immense guilt at having made her this disappointed over it. If this was any normal situation, any normal fight at all, you would have shot back with, ‘Well father told me to do it.’

But you were tired. 

Your pain threshold was being threatened, and you needed to get to your grandmother before any of your parents saw the situation you were in and this escalated into the worst fight you were going to get into in your entire life. 

Father’s only response was a dead cold, “C’mon, we gotta get outta here.”

He didn’t talk to you after that. Not one word. 

Squatting on an ikran’s back on a flight with an abdominal gunshot wound you were trying to hide was not an option unless you wanted to pass out midair and was looking for a free dive, so you were all but hugging the poor thing’s neck like a monkey, trusting him to follow your parents while you concentrated on mentally fighting to level out the pain. 

Nonsensical as it was to believe the gun stuck between your ikran’s neck and your stomach was acting as a tampon to lessen the bleeding, you were concerned with how dumb it must have looked to father and mom, how incompetent they must think of you that their daughter didn’t even know how to ride right. 

Got an ikran for nothing. 

Would they be less proud of you seeing how funny it appeared, nevermind that it was to contain your pain all the while not trying to faint?

But no words were exchanged about it. 

Father clamping up right after he’d made sure you weren’t hurt (yikes) had resulted in this awkward trip succumbing in total silence. They had sandwiched you between them, only necessary space for the ikrans to beat their wings freely left, so close that you could discern the scariest look on father yet, deepening the lines of age in his face while simultaneously expressing his barely contained desire to kill someone. 

A ticking time bomb. 

Forget speaking at all, but not only did he never address you until now, he didn’t even look in your direction for once. You knew because staring at him for five minutes straight for him to just acknowledge your existence had proven to be unfruitful. 

And the tears involuntarily streamed down your cheeks with how utterly worthless and alone that made you feel, trapped in this agony you couldn’t help but hide because he’d think you didn’t deserve to complain after bringing it upon yourself. You would rather bite your tongue and bear the pain than stay dreading his reaction. 

Yeah, no, he couldn’t know. 

Mom was looking over at you every one minute to make sure you were okay after her ears picked up on your sniffles, arrows of worry shot from her side sinking down your skin every single time, and you hated to make her this way. 

Your ikran kept comforting you through tsaheylu until you landed.

Father had promptly jumped down, agile and making haste away somewhere, passing you by and giving the cold shoulder. You all but slid off your own ikran, managing to make the gun stay where it should be, as you couldn’t help but weakly call out to him for one drop of consolation. “Father…”

He didn’t stop for you, quickening his steps, but his ears twitched, the tail beating the air ferociously halting and lowering before it returned to the previous motions, and those were the only indications that he’d heard it Lima Charlie.

The man just didn’t want to talk to you.    

And you had to make yourself believe it wasn’t the emotional devastation that had you falling down, but the wound sucking out all your energy now that you had gotten to safety. 

“Ma’ite?” Mom rushed to you. “Ma’ite, what’s wrong? What is it?”

“I’m okay, mom, it’s okay.” You were sitting on the floor, cross-legged. Thank goodness you still had the unbreakable willpower (and not the fear of Eywa put into you by father) to hold your shit together. “I’m okay. Just tired. My knees buckled. Weak, you know?” You swallowed, smiling. “I’m just… Just resting.”

Her gaze full of concern studied you, zeroing in on the gun you clung on for dear life against your stomach. Her hands lovingly brushed your hair, gripped your shoulders and elbows even though you were disgustingly clammy all over. It was grounding, anchoring within the ocean of pain washing over you in waves. 

“Oh, why are you sweating so much? You’re freezing.” You clutched the gun harder in a panic when she grasped it, most likely to put it away. It was the wrong reaction to have, but you weren’t exactly in the position to function healthily. 

Mom, as any other person would, got suspicious from it, her eyes flying up to your owlish ones — blanked out like a frightened animal. “You’re fine now,” she whispered, thankfully attributing it to how disturbed you must be, still not out of survival mode. “You are safe, my daughter. Mom is here.” She cupped your cheek, but every touch to your body hurt now, even when it was away from the gaping wound, still gushing blood, trickling down your hips and getting you scared that it’d be discovered once you stood up. “I’m here.” She searched your soul to know just why you were grimacing at her attempts of comforting. “I will take this now, you do not need it anymore.”

You snapped out of the gradually darkening gray haze mom’s lulling was laying you down gingerly into. “No, please don’t,” your breathing hitched. She was going to see. She couldn’t see. You had to avoid this somehow, as long as you could. Grandmother’s tent. You would make it, you had to.  “I’ll… I’ll just sit here for a while, okay? I need to just… take a small break, and then I’ll… Can you go back? I’ll follow later. Father is angry, I don’t—”

“Nonsense.” Incredulous and enraged suddenly about something you couldn’t put a finger on, and before you could stop her, she tried to haul you up with her by gripping your upper arms — colors exploded behind your eyelids, getting you you to lose consciousness for two seconds, your vision flooding back in a starry kaleidoscope. When mom’s voice reached your ears, it was in staccato exclaims your ears were ringing too much to discern. She was shaking you. 

You weren’t able to sit up straight anymore, leaning forward — mom had caught you, utterly confused and panicked at the same time. And then your head was lying on the crook of her elbow resting on her legs she’d tucked under herself. The moment you’d switched from sitting to straight up lying down was missing from your memories. 

A baby being cradled. Yes, this is exactly what it was like. Gentle arms surrounded you amidst the pulsating sea of agony. 

Your body was letting go, but your arms were vices around the gun, still holding that last line. Don’t let go. Don’t let go. They can’t know. Father will be so mad if he learns. “‘m okay… ‘st restin’…”

When your eyes cleared enough for the surroundings to be only a bit blurry, your mom was looking at the hand she’d just tried to take away the gun with, caked with your blood that had stained it, out of it and perplexed like she didn’t want to believe it. 

Her gut-wrenchingly stunned numbness sent the misery clawing its way inside into overdrive, pulling your consciousness down to the earth from the clouds it was ascending to. “Not mine,” you forced out, but it came out as begging. Everything was falling apart. The plan was so simple, why couldn’t you do anything right? “Not mine. Please. Mom, it’s okay.” 

“No…” Mumbling, she started sharply swaying back and forth, and with one brutally vigorous attack, she ripped the gun away from your arms, and hurled it away — then it was over. Your sob wasn’t due to the motion hurting you, it was all entirely for the broken wail of your mother at seeing the bloodied mess, tears spilling from her eyes as she reached down to press down at the pouring liquid. “No! No! Oh Great Mother! Why did you hide this! Oh, my daughter!” 

“No, mom, I’m fine, it’s nothing. Not my blood. Not my blood, okay?” You reached up weakly and wiped at her cheeks with trembling fingers, your heart got crushed worse than the pain could beat you down at her grief — lungs constricting. Where was all the air?  “I’ll get up. I’ll go to grandmother, don’t cry. Just resting.”

Frantically looking around, she yelled, “Jake!—” but her voice didn’t quite come out, breathy as if she’d been punched in the ribcage seconds prior.

A heartbeat’s worth of nothingness, after which you were full-on freaking out. Only one thought: Father will be angry. 

“No!” You shrieked, and blood swelled in one strong pump against mom’s fingers. She looked down at you in anguish, pupils blown wide, arm tightening around you as if you were a flailing bird. “Don’t tell him! Don’t tell father! He’ll really kill me for this—”

“No, no no no,” she shook her head, frenzied, tone cracked from beginning to end. “Do not say that. Don’t you ever say that—”

But you were struggling in her arms, wanting nothing but to crawl away into a hole, no reason registering whatsoever, only instinct. “He’ll be so angry,” you begged, pleading, pink spit bubbling at the corners of your mouth. The sound of gurgling accompanying the words you forced your whole body to form. “You can’t tell him — you can’t! He already hates me!”

The more you thrashed around and kicked your legs, the more you bled.

“Please, Great Mother!” The more mom lost her mind, hissing and howling hysterically, crazed, hugging you tighter and rocking. “Jake! Jake! Ma’Jake!” She put her temple against yours. “Not my daughter, please, Eywa…”

Why was she being like this? It wasn’t that serious! You were okay!

Delirium claimed you hot as she kept calling his name and her unbreakable hold on you kept you in a cage of a mother’s despair. In your feverish mind, a threat to your life was coming. Weakness spread like wildfire around your body and chipped away at the pain, slowly picking it apart to replace it with drowsiness. “Don’t call ‘im,” you continued to repeat, over and over again. “I’m just taking a break. Don’t call him over. He’s gonna be angry. He’ll hate me. He hates me. Please, mom.”

The sentences slurred together, shortened, wilted away pitifully, your voice died down, tongue deteriorating into only echoing, “He hates me.” A withered away, old flute. 

Your ikran was bellowing in the distance and you looked. The torches on cave walls were illuminating him and finally revealing to you his beautiful color scheme.    

And then your father was here, falling to his knees right beside you, his glistening wide eyes flying everywhere around your body — tracing all the blood, hands hovering above you as if he didn’t know where to start piecing a shattered vase back together.   

It was over.

Fully expecting the chastising you were about to receive to shake the floating mountains so bad the enemy would be able to spot you, you began to apologize — pride be damned, this battle be lost, you’d failed anyway. “Please don’t be mad,” you shuddered, meek and unsteady, tunnel vision flickering at the edges only perceiving him. “It’s my fault—I’m sorry—please don’t be angry—”

“Stop talking,” he ordered, rough and harsh, eyebrows knitted tightly, and out of breath — probably because of how hard he was trying to hold the anger back. You knew. That had to be it. “Don’t speak.”

Ah of course. This was only natural when he had refused to utter a single word at you the whole way, denying you the temporary comfort of a simple glance. 

Even the hand he pressed down so ruthlessly firm on your stomach it might as well be a boulder pinning you down was meant to be punishment, the whines your unbreathing lungs couldn’t stop turned into yowls — you hadn’t even noticed your hands were wrapped around father’s wrist in an effort to push him away, scratching him, but he only added his other hand on top of the other in return.

“Hang on, sweetheart, I got you, please hang on a little longer,” he pleaded, but you were already too far gone, Eywa was cruel to have plugged your ears to the endearment you’d been dying to hear from him for so long, making the last things you were aware father said to you the fact that he didn’t even want to hear you talking. 

And you fulfilled his wish. 

taglist: @ihonestlydontknowwhattonamethis@alohastitch0626 @jackiehollanderr @lucciera @qvrcll @iloveavatar @velvtcherie @ssc7514 @goldenmoonbeam @neteyamforlife @itsluludoll @jakesullys-bitch @blubrryy @sully-stick-together @arminsgfloll @alice121804 @noname2246 @justthingzsblog @eywamygoddess @m-1234 @ellabellabus07 @hellok1ttycake @dakotali @bluefire12348 @abbersreads @yellooaaa @aimsro @octavias-next-meat-bite @nikqdn @nao-cchi @spicycloudsalad @yeosxxx @heybiatchz @winxschester @elegantkidfansoul @eichenhouseproperty @kakimakiloh @dueiosy @liyahsocorro @dimplesxx @tigresslily @n8ivatar @strnqer @lillybbyy @jakesullyssluttt @r3dc4ndy @myheartfollower @gcldtom @bunnyrose01 @aceofheartzzz @ghoulbli @slasherfcker505 @ducks118 @megsthings @graykageyama @gwolf92

#dad!jake x daughter!reader #dad!jake sully x reader #dad!jake sully x daughter!reader #jake sully x reader #jake sully x daughter!reader #sully family x reader #mom!neytiri x reader #neteyam x sister!reader #neytiri x daughter!reader #lo'ak x sister!reader #kiri x sister!reader #irma: 📝 #📖: light

[harringtonstilinski]

It’s A Date - Steve Harrington (Smut)

Author: @harringtonstilinski​ Characters: Steve Harrington x Henderson!Reader Word Count: 3,530 Warnings: ST4 spoilers, fluff, little bit of angst  Smut: car sex between m+f, mutual masturbation Requested: Nope. Based off a prompt from this list A/N: Hi, friends! Of course, my first Steve Harrington fic is a smut piece, haha! This contains spoilers for S4, so if you haven’t watched it already, pls do not read. If you have any requests for our mom of 6, my askbox is open for requests. I might overuse the gif below because hotdamn🥵!!! Anyways, I hope you like this little piece! If you do, please do not hesitate to reblog and give some feedback, whether it be in the reblogs, comments, or my inbox. As always, read at your own risk and enjoy 😊

“Dusty! Hurry up, you’re gonna be late!” 

Do you know how many times a week I hear that? Five. Five days a week! All because my brother is still in his room, doing God knows what!

Upon hearing Mom’s voice calling his name again, I pulled the covers off my body and got out of bed. Opening my bedroom door, I glared at Dustin’s. I walked over to it and opened it up. “If you don’t hurry the hell up, I’m gonna drag you out of here by your hair. Got that, dipshit?”

“Okay, okay,” he said, getting up from his desk chair. “I was talking to Suzie.” 

Confused, I asked, “Why?”

“None of your business. Besides, aren’t you late for work?”

Facial expression going serious, I asked, “What time is it?” before going back to my room to look at my clock. “Shit! Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit. Keith is gonna kill me.”

I quickly changed my shirt and brushed my hair out. Since I had a phone in my room, I called up Family Video. As it rang, I searched for my jeans that I thought were on the floor. They ended up being on my vanity chair. 

“Family Video.”

“Steve? Holy shit, thank you for answering.”

“Y/N? Aren’t you supposed to be here by now?”

Resting the phone between my ear and shoulder, I pulled my shorts down and began putting my jeans on. “That’s why I’m calling. I apparently overslept and somebody was supposed to come pick me up.”

“I was? Damn, I forgot. I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine, it’s fine. Cover for me until I get there?”

“What should I tell Keith?”

“Lost track of time running an errand?” I heard Dustin’s voice and got another idea… well, excuse. “I had to wait for Dustin ‘cause Mom needed me to take him to school. It’s also a perfect excuse for me to use the car today.”

“Has anyone seen Y/N?” I heard Keith asked.

“I’m on the phone with her now. She has to wait for her little brother so that she can take him to school.”

Silence. I stopped zipping and buttoning my jeans to hear what else Keith had to say. After a few more seconds of silence, I whispered, “Am I in the clear?”

“Not in the slightest,” Keith answered. “If you’re late again, you’re fired.”

“R-roger that.” I hung up after that, quickly zipping and buttoning my jeans before grabbing my vest with my name tag attached. I went to the kitchen, seeing Mom standing at the sink. “Can I borrow the car?”

“What for?”

Looking around to find the clock I knew was there, I spotted Dustin about to walk out the door. Quickly turning my head back to my mom, I said, “Dustin asked me to take him to school.”

“No, I didn't,” said boy responded, confused.

“Last night, you did.”

“Before you two start up, yes, you can borrow the car,” Mom said.

“Thank you,” I said, kissing her cheek. “I love you! I’ll be safe!” Walking towards Dustin, I said, “Your ass owes me.”

~~~

10:30AM. Only 30 minutes late for work. It took me all of 15 mins to get Dustin to school and myself to work. Did I go over the speed limit? Maybe. Was I driving like I didn’t care about the speed limit? Maybe. I mean, I didn’t get pulled over or anything, so I’m good!

Once I walked in the video store, I was met by Keith at the front counter. “You’re late.”

“Yes, I’m aware. Thank you. We’ve already established this,” I answered. I walked around the counter and straight to the back to set my stuff down and clock in. Once that was done, I immediately got to work on putting away the tapes people had returned.

“And then Vickie laughed,” I heard Robin say. I peaked out from one of the aisles to listen in on her conversation with Steve. “And it wasn’t like a cheap, fake laugh, either. It was like…”

I moved out of the aisle, knowing that she had to be at the basketball game the night before. “It was genuine, right?” 

She looked at me and smiled a little. “Yeah. It was.”

“I remember when I used to make someone laugh genuinely,” I said, looking in Steve’s direction.

Oh, I almost forgot to tell you. Steve and I dated for about a year. We got together the night he fought the demodogs, and then we broke up right before I was supposed to leave for school. Yes, my feelings are still there. Are they still there for him? I’m not sure. Anyway.

I went back to putting the movies back up, and before I knew it, about 15 minutes had gone by. Sitting down behind the front counter, I watched the movie that was playing; Doctor Zhivago. Don’t ask. Robin put it on. A body sat down next to me.

“Ya’know, if I’m utterly and totally right, I would say that Steve still has mad feelings for you.”

I looked over Robin, giving her a face of… well, curiosity. I looked back at the tv, crossing my arms. “Yeah, I’m not so sure.”

“Hey, guys, check this out,” Steve said, turning the tv behind the counter on.

Robin and I both moved to the front of the counter; Robin sitting in a chair, me sitting on the counter, and Steve standing. I was in the middle. What was on the television disturbed me; a teenager from Hawkins High was killed. 

My first thought was, “Dustin.” I hadn’t realized that I said his name aloud until I felt an arm around me, the hand attached rubbing my left arm up and down.

“I’m sure he’s fine,” Steve said.

“Better be,” I said, tearfully. “Or else I’m gonna revive him and kill him myself.” Hearing the front door open, I quickly gathered myself, but was shocked when I heard a voice say, “Hey, Steve.”

I turned around so fast, I thought I gave myself whiplash. “Oh, thank fuck.”

“You see this?” Steve asked.

“How many phones do you have?” Dustin asked, Max right on his tail.

“Someone was murdered.”

“How many phones do you have?” Dustin enunciated.

“Two, why?”

“Actually, we have three,” I said. Robin, Steve, Dustin and Max all four looked at me, but my eyes landed on Steve’s. Shrugging, I said, “If you wanna count Keith’s, it makes three.”

“Three works,” Max said.

“Guys, what’s going on? Does it pertain to the person was murdered?”

Taking off his backpack, Dustin said, “Y/N/N, move.”

Moving, I asked, “What fo–” Interrupting me, Dustin slid his bag across the counter, causing Steve and I to shout, “What are you–?”

“My pile,” Robin complained.

Dustin slid across the front counter, knocking over the tapes Steve stacked, causing him to shout, “No, no, no! My tapes! Dude!”

I had moved as soon as I knew what my brother was doing when he slid his bag and then his body across the counter. I walked up to him as he sat down at the computer. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“Setting up base camp,” Dustin said.

“Base camp? Dusty, you can’t do that. This is my place of work.” I looked behind me at the back of the store. “If Keith finds out you’re back here, I’m dead.”

“You won’t,” Steve said.

I looked at him, asking, “What?”

“He left after you got here,” Robin said. “While you were in the back.”

Sighing, I said, “I’m gonna kill him.” Looking back at Dustin, I asked, “Why do you even need the computer?”

“Eddie’s friend’s phone numbers,” Dustin said.

“Your new best friend you think is cooler ‘cause he plays your nerdy game?” Steve asked.

“If you stop complaining about Eddie, I’ll go on a date with you,” I said, looking at Steve.

I turned back around to watch my brother, seeing him writing down names and numbers. Groaning loudly, I walk to the front of the counter to help Robin finish picking up. 

“You want me to strangle him or should I let you do those honors?” Steve said.

“Take turns,” Robin said.

“Oooh, good idea,” I smiled, looking back and forth between the two.

“Fill them in, please,” Dustin said.

“Fill us in on what?” Robin asked.

I looked at Max, who looked like she didn’t want to say anything, but told us anyway.

~~~

Apparently, Eddie had killed Chrissy Cunningham, and how he’s on the run from the cops… or at least that’s what I got out of it. 

“So, he killed her or something else killed her?” I asked.

“I’m thinking something else,” Max said.

While Robin, Max and Dustin called Eddie’s friends, we ended up getting a few customers in the store, to whom Steve and I both attended to. As I walked past him and a female customer, I overheard him try to explain Doctor Zhivago to the poor girl, who stated she had a boyfriend.

After I was done with my customer, I noticed that Steve had walked this girl to the door and stood there as she got in her car and drove off.

“Stop gawking,” I said. He pulled himself back in the store after saying the GD word. Looking at me, he gave me those eyes that I knew was him beating himself up on the inside. I took a step closer to him, almost chest to chest. “Hey, listen. If you can go the rest of our shift without complaining about Eddie or beating yourself up mentally, I’ll go on a date with you. Tonight.”

“Where?” he asked.

“Lover’s Lake. Pick me up at 9. I’ll be sitting on the trunk of my mom’s car.”

“It’s a date.”

“I might have a lead,” Max said, interrupting our moment. She started explaining something, but all I heard was one name; Reefer Rick.

“Wait a sec, I know him,” I said, walking to the counter.

“You do?” they all asked.

“Yeah. I used to buy weed from him back when I was a sophomore. I know where he lives.”

~~~

Robin, Max and Dustin gave the plan of going to see Reefer Rick as soon as possible. So, the five of us went to see him, only for him to not be at home. We found Eddie, though, in the boat house, hiding in a boat.

He explained what happened with Chrissy after we convinced him to tell us. As he was explaining what happened with her bones and how they were snapping, I shivered and turned my head to the side with my eyes closed.

I jumped when I felt an arm around me again. The arm belonging to Steve. I did what I always did when he did that; curled into him the best I could.

“You all think I’m crazy, right?” Eddie asked.

I looked over at him, sniffling, “No. We don’t think you’re crazy at all.”

“Don’t bullshit me, Y/N! I know how this sounds.”

“We’re not bullshitting you. We believe you.”

“Look,” Dustin said. “What I’m about to tell you might be a little… difficult to take. You know how people say Hawkins is… cursed? They’re not way off.”

Sniffing again, I said, “There’s another world. A world hidden beneath Hawkins, and sometimes it bleeds into ours.” “Like ghosts and shit?” Eddie asked.

“There are some things worse than ghosts,” Max said.

“There’s monsters in this other world,” Dustin said. “We thought they were gone.”

“But they’ve come back before,” I said.

“That’s why we needed to find you.”

“If they’re back again,” Max said. “We need to know.”

“That night,” Robin said. “Did you see anything?”

“Dark particles, maybe?” 

Eddie shook his head before Dustin explained, “They would almost look like dust, swirling dust.”

“Or snow,” I said.

“No, there was nothing you could see or touch,” Eddie said. “I tried to wake her. She couldn’t move. It was like she… she was in a trance or something.”

“Or under a spell,” Dustin said. 

“A curse.”

“Vecna’s Curse.”

Rubbing my arm again, Steve asked the group, “Who’s Vecna?”

“An undead creature of great power,” Dustin answered.

“A spellcaster,” Eddie said.

“A dark wizard.”

~~~

After taking Max and Robin home, Steve took me and Dustin home… well, mainly Dustin since it was already about 9pm. When he got out of the car, Dustin asked, “Aren’t you coming?”

“Tell mom not to wait up,” I said. “There’s a conversation that needs to happen.” I looked over at Steve for a second before looking at the sky, lightning striking.

“Make it fast.”

Steve drove off towards Lover’s Lake, the silence in the car deafening. “Hey, listen,” he said. “What happened between us–”

“Can we pause this conversation until we get there?” I asked. He sighed and went back to not saying anything. I watched as the rain started to come down, lightly before it gradually got heavier.

I looked out at the lake as soon as Steve put his car in park. After a few seconds of silence, I said, “I don’t know why I did it.” Looking down at my lap, I tried to will the tears back. “I was either scared you’d cheat on me or that I’d cheat on you. Truth is…” I sniffled. “I never stopped caring about you, thinking about you, or… loving you.”

I looked at him, seeing his eyes already on me. “I wouldn’t have.”

“I know, I know, I just– I had that small fear. And no, it wasn’t because I didn’t trust you because I did and still do. It was me and my stupid brain.” I couldn’t hold the tears back as I said, “I’m so sorry, Steve.”

He cradled me the best he could with us being in the car. “Hey, it’s okay. I understood then and I understand now.” I looked up at him the best I could as he looked down at me. “I still love you, too.”

Without thinking, I leaned up and kissed him, feeling him kiss me back. A simple kiss turned into a make out session which turned into me climbing into his lap after he pulled the seat back.

Detaching his lips from mine, he smiled a little, saying, “Bring back memories?”

I took my shirt off and nodded, but I said, “Shut up and kiss me.” 

We quickly locked lips again before I helped him take off his shirt. His lips went for my neck as my hands went to the back of his head, gently balling up his hair in my fists. He found my sweet spot, which made me moan.

“God, I’ve missed that sound,” he said.

“Steve,” I breathed.

“Yeah?” 

“Shut up, please.” I hadn’t realized that he unhooked my bra and pulled it off my breasts a little until I felt the flesh of his hands on the flesh of my breasts. “Steve, do something.”

I put my arms down, feeling my bra straps fall down before I felt Steve’s hands on my back, pulling me straight. I moaned loudly as I felt his lips wrap around my nipple, him hardening the bud.

Pulling away from my breast with a small pop, Steve said, “There’s my girl,” before moving on to the other one, eliciting another moan from me.

I felt his bulge on my core, so I reached down once he pulled away from my breast again and palmed him through his jeans, making him groan. After doing that for a moment, I looked down at his button and popped it, unzipping his jeans right after. 

Without him even saying anything, I got up on my knees as best as I could so that he could slide his jeans down his thighs. Before I could reach into his boxers, he said, “Do you remember where I keep them?”

I nodded, turning my head to the glove box and reaching the best I could to open it and retrieve a condom. Steve and I were both a panting mess, our breathing heavy. I turned back to him, holding the packet up and smiling. “Are we really about to do this?”

He nodded while smiling before taking the packet out of my hand. “Yup.”

I chuckled before I looked down at his package, reaching for it. I looked at him and asked with my eyes if he was totally sure, to which he nodded just slightly. 

It’s not like Steve and I never had sex before because we have. We just haven’t had sex in about seven months, so I just wanted to be sure with him before we went any further.

Reaching into his boxers, I wrapped my hand around his hardened length, pumping slowly a few times to get the blood flowing even more. Before long, I started pumping faster, finding a rhythm. 

Steve moaned, letting me know he was liking what I was doing. Not realizing that he popped the button on my jeans and unzipped them, I moaned as well when I felt his finger enter my core. Mutual masturbation, I guess.

“Mmmm, baby, baby, baby,” Steve said. “You keep going, I’m gonna cum right all over your hand.”

I stopped, putting my hands on his face to pull him in for a deep kiss. He pulled his hand from my panties before I felt him tap the outside of my thighs. I got up on my knees again before he broke the kiss.

“Sit over there,” he said, breathing heavily.

I did as he asked and sat in the passenger seat to finish undressing, him doing the same. “Do you have a blanket in the back?”

“Always,” he smiled.

I watched as he rolled the condom down his length after taking it from the packet. He grabbed my hand and helped me back over, but not before I hit my head on the roof of the car. “Ow, fuck!”

He chuckled while holding my head, kissing where I hit it. “Are you okay?”

I chuckled as well, looking up at him. “Yeah, I’ll be fine.”

After calming down, I looked down and grabbed his hardened cock, giving him those eyes once more. He nodded again, so I carefully lined him up with my entrance and slowly slid down, moaning all the way. 

“Fuck, I forgot how big you are,” I breathed.

“You know you love it,” he said.

“I do,” I said. “I do.” After adjusting for a moment, I started bouncing… or what bouncing I could do considering we were in his car.

Steve and I were still breathing heavily, moans coming out of my mouth left and right. I felt his hands on my hips, his own meeting mine.

“Wait, wait, wait,” I breathed, stopping my movements. “If you’re wanting to do that, we should lay the seat back. It feels awkward.”

He thought about it for a second before nodding and saying, “You’re right.” He laid the seat back and told me to stay on my knees before we started up again; me bouncing and him thrusting up into me.

With my hair in front of my face and my mouth open, I moaned with every thrust Steve made.

“You’re so beautiful,” he grunted. “So goddamn beautiful.”

“Oh, my god,” I breathed. “I’m gonna cum. I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna–” With one more thrust into me, I came all over Steve’s protected cock. Leaning forward, I caught myself with my hands on the top corners of the seat. 

With his hands on my hips, I looked down at Steve, seeing him eye our bodies meeting, sweat forming on his brow. “Almost there,” he grunted.

“Ahhh, fuck,” I moaned loudly.

With one final, “Fuck!” from Steve, he stopped all movements, grunting while his hips jerked, letting me know he had came.

We didn’t move from our positions, just sitting there trying to catch our breaths. After a couple of minutes of being completely still, I moved my hand from the seat to Steve’s cheek, bringing our lips together.

When we pulled apart, we rested our foreheads against each other. I had my eyes closed, so I couldn’t tell if his was open or not.

“I love you,” I whispered.

“I love you, too,” he whispered back. “But, uhm, can you move? I’m getting soft.”

I laughed at his statement, nodding my head. I moved to the backseat, hoping he would pick up what I was laying down. Grabbing the blanket, I wrapped it around myself, noticing that Steve was pulling his boxers and jeans back up.

“Y/N/N?” he asked.

“Back here, dorkwad.”

He turned his head and smiled when our eyes met. He looked at my clothes before handing them back to me, silently telling me to get dressed, and after doing so, he climbed in the back with me, laying down in the seat first before I laid on top of him.

He sighed, rubbing his hands up and down my back. “I’ve missed this.”

“Me, too,” I smiled. “Next time we do this, though, at least take me to dinner first.”

He chuckled before saying, “It’s a date.”

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

A/N 2:  hi, friends! i hope did steve harrington justice! i’ve been wanting to write for him since season 3 came out but just didn’t have major inspiration until now! but let me know what you thought! again, please do not hesitate to reblog and give some feedback, whether it be in the reblogs, comments, or my inbox.

~~~

Forever / Everything Taglist: @stiles-o-dylan24​​ @stixnstripesworld​​ @fandom-princess-forevermore​​ @quanticobae​​ @mischiefandi​​ @kellyashcroft​​ @lauren-novak​​​

Steve Harrington Taglist: none yet!

If you’re tagged and didn’t want to be, please let me know.

~~~

*Please don’t post my writing anywhere else without my consent. The author of this work will always and forever be @stilinskiparker​.

All characters, story lines, and plot aside from y/n and her storyline & plot, are all of the work of The Duffer Brothers. 

*These works contain material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited.

No part of these works may be reproduced in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author / publisher.

Posted on June 3, 2022

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington smut #steve harrington #stranger things #joe keery x reader #joe keery x y/n #joe keery smut #steve harrington x henderson!reader

[mypoisonedvine]

pls give me Eddie with a whip and a fuck machine :)

sure thing anon!!

warnings: smut (18+ of course), oral m receiving, hard kink/bdsm, dom/sub dynamic, "master" title, some degradation but a lot more praise kink, hair pulling, come eating, spit kink, impact play and use of a fucking machine (obviously? read the ask lol), a bit of aftercare but not a ton cause she falls asleep lmaooo

see those warnings up there? read them, it's why they're there :)

He tilted his head slightly at you, raising an eyebrow. "You're sure you can handle this?"

You glanced at it again: it wasn't what you thought it would look like. Well, not like you'd spent hours in your room at night pondering the inner workings of a-- for lack of a better term-- fuck machine. But you had thought about it before. A lot, actually, ever since your friend pranked you by replacing one of your favorite movies with a hardcore BDSM tape.

Well, joke's on her. It awakened some things in you. Oops.

That was before you started dating Eddie, but when you first met him, he still thought you were the innocent girl you did your best to appear to be. Eventually, you let him on to how wrong he was; but you tried to start small, little things. Spanking, light choking, you know... easy stuff. For you, at least. You had been afraid that if you told him all of your kinks at once, he would call you everything that you were afraid you'd become-- wrong, filthy, freak-- and not in a sexy degradation kink sort of way.

Over time, you got more comfortable with him, and not just by accident. He'd been supportive and understanding as you started to open up about your kinks and ideas, and perhaps most importantly, he'd been incredibly prepared. Apparently, he wasn't as new to all of this as you were. But, his experience certain had limits, and this was one of them.

He told you not to ask how he got it, so you didn't, but you were curious. There aren't... stores, that sell machines with dildos on the end for this purpose, right? Certainly not in Hawkins... probably still not in Indianapolis. It looked a lot more professional than you would expect if he somehow put it together, but then again, you didn't really know his mechanical abilities. He fixed your car for you once, is fixing a car similar to building a fuck machine?

And then there was the whip. That was actually his idea. He'd spanked you plenty with his hand and a paddle, but the whip was a step up. It wasn't, like, real, it was made for this... it had several leather strips on it, all black of course, and he said that it would sting a lot but not leave too many marks. You didn't mind the marks, but you figured he'd give you plenty of his own tomorrow night.

"Yeah," you finally answered, "I can handle it."

"If you can't, you know the safeword," he reminded you.

"Paladin," you smiled, because of course his safeword was a D&D reference.

"You're gonna need another way to signal me when your mouth is full," he decided, and you were already warm between your legs because oh, my mouth's gonna be full?

"Okay," you nodded.

"Just pinch me on the thigh," he decided, "really hard-- don't be afraid to hurt me or anything. M'pretty tough."

He had you strip down to nothing and kneel on the bed, hands and knees with your legs spread, and you felt quite vulnerable-- in a good way-- with him getting everything set up behind you. You giggled a little when he grabbed your hips and moved you to where he wanted you; he could've just told you to move, of course, but he probably figured out you'd like the manhandling more.

The only thing you liked more than being told what to do was being made to do things. Forced, even; though with Eddie, you were damn near always willing.

"Lean back a bit," he mumbled as he pulled your hips closer to the machine, and you jumped slightly when you felt the tip of the dildo press against you. You were so used to Eddie, and this was nothing like that. It wasn't warm like him-- not cold, thank god, but not hot-- nor as thick, and the foreign-ness was somehow titillating... you knew this machine wouldn't have any mercy on you, because it couldn't. Sure, Eddie didn't always slow down when you asked him to because without the safeword it was just a suggestion, but this was different. Eddie was responsive and, for as dominant as he was, quite gentle in many ways.

This was going to be a much more unforgiving experience, if all went right.

He didn't warn you that he was about to flip it on... he just did, and you nearly jumped before you forced yourself to stay still so the machine could do its job and, well, fuck you. It was slow at first, though still more sudden than you expected, and you shuddered as the dildo pressed into you and then pulled back slowly; the rhythm was steady and easy, and you started breathing deeply as you adjusted to it.

"Does it go any faster?" you asked, and your cheeks warmed as you heard Eddie laugh.

"Yes," he promised, "you're gonna see how fast it goes by the end of the night, I assure you. Just be good and patient for me now, baby."

"Yes, master," you breathed, and you heard his little satisfied hum. That title had been your idea first, a reference to his Dungeon Master status, and for how hesitant he'd been at first, he really got into it when you used it in context for the first time.

You didn't notice that you were starting to lean forward until his hand landed on your shoulder, rings cool on your skin as he held you still. "Gotta let it do its job, sweetheart."

You bit your lip, suddenly feeling slightly self-conscious-- just because you knew that normally, when you were getting fucked like this, he couldn't see your face or get a very good look at you. But now, he was free to circle the bed slowly with a slight smile, admiring how you looked being fucked this way. You met his gaze for a split second before glancing down, and he laughed again.

"Not gonna be shy now, are you, baby? You asked for this," he reminded you. "How does it feel?"

"Feels good, master," you sighed. "Not as good as you..."

He smiled at you gently, standing before you as he lifted your chin with two fingers. Your eyes lingered on the whip in his other hand. "I know, baby," he cooed, "you're so sweet. It's not going to be as good as being fucked by your master... but that's not the point."

You blinked at him, waiting for an explanation, but instead he walked back to stand by your side; you shivered as he lightly dragged the whip up your back, tickling you with the leather. "F-fuck, that feels nice..." you whispered.

"Yeah? How does this feel?"

He struck you hard on the rear with the whip, and you cried out. It was a sharp pain that faded quickly but still left a lingering sting for a moment, an ache already blooming across your skin. "Fuck, master, it feels good!"

"You like that?" he taunted, not even waiting for you to nod before he hit you two more times. "You're so dirty, sweetheart. I can see how wet you're getting from this, you're soaking that dildo, aren't you?"

You nodded as you whimpered. "Y-yes, master."

You didn't see him reach for the machine, but you felt it speed up and heard the slight whirring raise in pitch and volume. Your hands clutched at the sheets beneath you, and the dildo seemed to be going a little deeper now. Just when you were starting to attempt to adjust to the new pace, Eddie struck you with the whip again-- and as he continued, the hits started to move higher up your back. He even hit you once on your arm, which shocked you enough that you lost your balance and dropped your face down into the mattress.

He growled as he pulled you back up by your hair, making you yelp and scramble to try to support your own weight. Of course, that stopped when he kneeled right in front of your face-- instantly, your hands reached for his thighs instead, sliding up to start trying to open his belt quickly.

"So fucking needy," he smiled, though he suddenly got very serious again. "Dirty slut."

Biting your lip to suppress your whine, you kept working on his button and fly until you were able to start weakly tugging his jeans and boxers down. "Can I suck your cock, master, please?" you begged.

"Of course," he cooed, as if he'd never denied you before, but he certainly had. He thought it was amusing to watch you beg for something you couldn't even derive inherent pleasure from... and really, you didn't mind begging. Especially not when the reward was that beautiful cock on your tongue and down your throat.

He was already hard when you gripped his shaft, and you pulled it down a bit to bring the tip right up to your open mouth. You licked up the bead of precum first, hearing him sigh as he loosened his grip on your hair (now that you were balanced on his thighs) and gently rested that hand on the back of your head instead.

"Look up at me, baby, you know the rules," he reminded you, and you quickly blinked up towards him to see his tilted, smiling face. "Good girl."

He pushed your head down, sliding himself further until his tip poked at your throat. You swallowed through the beginning of your gag response, eyes watering as you dutifully took him as deep as you could go. This was much more difficult when you were being distracted by the dildo driving into you; your thighs were clenching and your whole body was starting to shake a bit, plus there were these involuntarily moans coming out... you usually moaned a bit while sucking him off, after all you really enjoyed it, but this was different. Not to mention each thrust kept knocking you forward, keeping you from setting your own rhythm and pushing his cock deeper.

"I always wanted to know how you would suck cock while getting fucked," he admitted, "but I just couldn't let anybody else touch you, sweetheart, my poor heart couldn't take it."

Your own heart twisted to imagine him being just that right amount of possessive. As much fun as it was to imagine, hypothetically, being taken by two men at once, you agreed; you could never let another man have you the way your master does.

"Now, I get to see my baby getting fucked hard like this without having to share," he smiled. "I can tell you like it, sweetheart. Now, be careful-- I'm gonna whip you some more, but I don't wanna feel any teeth on my dick, alright? Keep that mouth wide open for me, baby."

He struck you on the shoulder-- a convenient location for him, and not too sensitive for you-- and you whined around him but managed to keep your mouth open like he said.

"Fuck, so good for me," he grunted, hitting you again on your upper back. You shut your eyes for a second, but kept bobbing your head as you started to taste more of that faint saltiness of his precum at the back of your throat.

The next impact, right on your side, was enough to make you shudder and nearly lose your balance again. You didn't realize how sensitive you were there, nor how much you would enjoy it, but your eyes rolled back in your head and he must've seen it because he laughed quietly.

"I bet you're giving that machine a nice tight squeeze, aren't you, sweetheart?" he purred. "I know how your pussy likes to give me little hugs when I hit you... 'cause you like it so much, huh?"

He pulled out of your mouth suddenly, freeing you to nod and pant with your open mouth. "Y-yes, master, I love it."

"I know," he cooed, bending down to kiss your forehead. You whined when he stood up and walked away, but that was the least of your concerns when he leaned past you and turned the machine up one more time. You immediately assumed this was the highest setting, considering how brutal it was; you were wrong, and proven so immediately when he turned it up again.

"Fuck!" you screamed, face dropping down into the mattress. "M-master... oh!"

You couldn't say much more than that, toes curling as the machine ruthlessly drove into you. Your limp body so much wanted to fall forward onto the bed, but he grabbed your hips and forced them to stay still, taking the dildo to the hilt with every rapid thrust.

"Hurts!" you managed to choke out into the sheets. "Fuck, hurts, master..."

"Yeah, I bet it does," he sneered, "gonna hurt more when I start whipping you, too."

You sobbed, but nodded-- amazingly, you still wanted it. The first strike nearly made your whole body give out, legs fighting weakly to push you forward so you'd pull off of the dildo. But he still kept you there, hitting you on the ass two more times as you weakly cried through his title a few more times.

"I want you to come so hard for me," he ordered, "can you do that? Can you come even though it's just a fake dick?"

You nodded into the sheets again, gripping them tighter as the whip hit your sore ass, your thighs, your side again. He only stopped when he decided he needed to be in your mouth again. With both of you so close to the brink, Eddie was just as ruthless with your throat as the machine was with your pussy so, needless to say, it didn't take you long to reach your peak.

Your orgasm was just as sudden and fleeting as the pain from the whip; it hit you all at once and then petered out as you choked on your moan-- and his dick. "Good fucking girl, fuck," he groaned, grabbing your hair and forcing himself so deep that your nose was buried in his happy trail.

You wanted to scream; the machine was still fucking you mercilessly even though you'd already come, and it was sending you over the edge into oblivion. Of course, you couldn't scream. Your mouth was full.

"Feels so good, sweetheart-- I know you're used to telling me when you're coming, is that what you're trying to do now? I can-- ah, fuck-- I can feel your throat moving on me..."

He pulled out of your mouth quickly, and you fell forward onto the bed as you finally got off of the dildo and gave your aching body a break. You were still shaking a bit as he rolled you onto your back.

"Open your mouth, baby," he whispered, and though your eyes were so heavy that you couldn't even open them, you (of course) obeyed. You didn't need to know what he was going to do to your open mouth, you just knew that it was what your master wanted.

As your mouth fell slack, he spit into it, and you swallowed quickly. "Thank you, master," you hummed.

"Keep it open, m'not done yet," he groaned, and when you opened it again, you felt him gently tilt your face towards him. He moved his hips and dropped them over your face, mumbling his instruction: "suck on my balls, sweetheart."

You wrapped your lips around the flesh and gently suckled, having to open your mouth wide to fit just one; once Eddie had figured out you had a slight fetish for those heavy, hairy balls in your mouth, he never missed an opportunity to make you lick and taste them. It was just the right amount of degrading and dirty for you, plus you loved those low groans he made when you laved them with your tongue or delicately licked that seam between the two of them.

He was jerking off just above where your mouth explored the loose skin, stammering out little praises as he neared his own impending orgasm. You were almost disappointed when he lifted his hips away and left your mouth empty, until a moment later when you felt the head of his cock brush against your lips, though not pushing in any further (as the angle would make that quite tricky anyways). "Hhng, fuck, such a pretty mouth my baby's got," he grunted.

You realized that he was jerking off straight into your mouth, and something about it was just so sexy; you writhed your hips slightly, sticking your tongue out to flick over his head. That earned you a light slap to the cheek, and you smiled dreamily. "Sorry, master..." you mumbled instinctively.

"Not a punishment, baby," he grunted, "fuck, you're so cute-- gonna fill your mouth, don't swallow it all right away."

You kept your mouth open wide, the yes, master implied as he jerked off faster above your face. He panted louder and louder, and finally you felt come shoot onto the inside of your cheek and run down to the back of your throat. You pushed your tongue back to keep from choking on it, finding the energy to blink your eyes open so you could see the look on his face as he came into your waiting mouth.

"Hi," he smiled at you, come still pouring onto your tongue, and you smiled back as best you could without shutting your mouth at all. He squeezed his cock with a sigh, pushing the last few drops out for you, and you wanted to moan but you were too afraid it would make the come slip down your throat and you figured he didn't want his own come coughed all over him.

He relaxed and pulled his cock away from your face, one ringed hand gently holding your jaw so he could slightly tilt your head one way and then the other-- so he could admire your come-filled mouth more appropriately.

"You can swallow it all now, baby," he offered, and you eagerly opened your throat for the warm substance.

"There you go," he grinned, "tastes good?"

"Yes, master," you nodded once you'd gotten it down.

He gave you a shockingly chaste kiss to the lips, slow and soft, and then took a quick moment to shut the machine off-- still uselessly fucking into the air, poor thing-- before he laid down next to you. "So," he breathed as he pulled you close to him, "was that sort of what you were hoping for?"

"So much better," you mumbled sleepily, nestling your face into his shoulder, breathing in his comforting smell-- cigarettes, cheap cologne, and fresh-cut grass.

"That's what I like to hear," he smiled as he pressed a kiss on your temple. "Are you gonna fall asleep, sweetheart?"

But you were already out like a light, and he laughed silently to himself as he wrapped his arms around you tighter.

"A little rest, then we're getting you cleaned up," he whispered.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #dom!eddie munson x reader

[runnning-outof-time]

Twice As Much

Tommy Shelby x Reader

Warnings: language, smoking, drinking

Summary: (Y/N) shares her thoughts on Tommy's decision to go into business with the Russians.

A/N: Congrats on 2k, Lora @dearshelby !! I chose the lyric from Fine Line since that’s one of my favorite HS songs. I also think I was channeling your angsty self as I wrote this…it’s no where near as good as your angst, but it was a shot. Oh, and I’m not sure if the moodboard really fits the story at all, but I just wanted to make something pretty for you also. Enjoy! :)

PLEASE LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK!

The door was slammed shut in Tommy's face when he was two steps away from it. Instead of opening it right away, he paused on the steps, taking a deep breath and letting it out in a huff as he clenched his hands into fists, hoping that doing so would release some tension. He opened the door when he felt he was ready. "(Y/N), please..."

"I can't believe you would do that, Tommy!" (Y/N) was ready to dive right back into it, cutting off his low-toned response the second he began it; having no intention of hearing what he had to say. "You've just decided on a whim that you're going to fuck around with the Russians, and you felt that my charity gala was where you were going to set that into motion?!" The hurt was clear on her face, and she was standing in the middle of the foyer, still wearing the dress that, earlier that evening Tommy wasn't sure she'd make it out of the house in.

Taking another deep breath, he tried to keep his head leveled. "If you would just listen..."

"No," she cut him off again with a sharp answer, "I'm finished listening. I put on happy face and fucking listened as you pled your case to me about it at the gala. I couldn't share my thoughts there, but here I can, so I'm damn well going to share them."

"Share them then," his statement was brief, and he waved his hand as a non-verbal gesture for her to continue on with talking, his eyes dropping to fix on the hardwood. He didn't need this right now. He had so much work he had to do; so many people who were riding on him and watching closely to see if he would trip up or make a mistake. He didn't need his own wife's disapproval on top of it.

"I think that you must've had a stroke of insanity when you decided that you were going to begin working with the Russians. I think these people are outright lying to you when they say that they are on your side and that they will give you your share when it's all over. You've done what you said you were going to; you've gone legitimate...so why are you now going to fight a war that isn't yours to fight?" she chose what she said carefully, speaking with such passion that Tommy felt every word as it struck his heart. "I think..." her voice broke, and she exhaled the rest of her breath as a sigh as she grappled for the right words to end off her statement, "I think that there'll be no turning back once you've made your decision to work with these people, and that you will lose people because of that decision."

Her last sentence hit Tommy the hardest. She'd been with him through all of his battles and had become a voice of reason in his life. He was able to see how much these decisions had affected her; how emotionally distraught she was because of them. But yet there was the voice still talking in the back of his mind...the voice that told him to push forward with the business and that doing so would open up even more avenues for him. And that's what he wanted overall: to amass an empire so vast that all others would pale in comparison. He had no limitations.

"Fuckin' hell, (Y/N)..." he trailed off with a huff, shaking his head in frustration, "I don't need this from you now too," he muttered as he started to walk to the hall that held his office.

(Y/N) didn't let him go that easy. "What do you mean 'I don't need this from you now too'?!" she called after him, her anger still apparent.

"Eh?!" he snapped, spinning around to face her again.

"What the fuck are you on about with not needing it from me?! You told me to share my thoughts so I fucking shared them!" she told him, holding her ground even though she could see the anger starting to bubble up in his eyes. She watched as he clenched his fists together, looking as though he was trying to stabilize himself. That didn't stop her though...she wanted answers. "What did you mean?!"

"I meant that out of all the fucking people that I have to please; out of all the fucking hoops that I have to jump through for this, I didn't think you'd be one of them," he gave her what she was asking for, explaining his response to her without taking his eyes away from hers.

"Oh so I'm not allowed to have a say in what gets done within the company? Or in what types of partnerships you manage to get yourself into?" she asked him, disbelief present in her voice. She felt like she'd been diminished...like she hadn't had a large part in making the Shelby Company Ltd. into what it was today.

"You're my wife, (Y/N)...you're supposed to stand by my side through these decisions," he tried to make her understand why he'd gotten aggravated by her pushback.

"I am your fucking wife, Tommy! Which means that what I'm saying should mean twice as much as what others say to you!" she shot back, spinning his words back onto him.

Tommy couldn't help but snort at her comeback, cracking a begrudging grin as he shook his head. She was quick-witted...one of the reasons why he was attracted to her the moment he met her, but right now it was working against him. "You know I just thought that you'd understand. That you'd be able to see the bigger fucking picture of it all, and that it would excite you for the future of the company and the fucking family!" he began with his voice level but it soared by the end of his statement, his anger making it rise again.

"Excite me?!" she scoffed at his statement, shock flooding her features, "what part of joining a fight on the same side as a bloodthirsty family of people who do nothing but lie did you think would excite me, Tommy?" She sent him an incredulous look, to which he replied with silence. She continued after a few moments' pause, "we're doing just fine on our bloody own; working the tracks and staying on top of exports. We don't need any part of working with these people, we really don't."

"You don't see it the way I see it then," he quipped, his eyes boring into hers as he spoke.

"I guess I don't," she was quick to respond, throwing her hands up in an exasperated manner, at her wits end with how he was acting at the moment.

"I need a fuckin' drink," Tommy mumbled, turning from her again as he tugged his bowtie loose, hoping that it was alleviate some of the tension he was feeling.

"You can't just walk away from this!" (Y/N) called, her hasty footsteps following him into his office.

"I'm not the one walking away, (Y/N). I'm not the one who's doubting everything...when has something I've planned gone south, eh?!" he went right back to it with her, a tight grip on his glass of whiskey that he didn't even get a chance to drink from.

"You don't want me to answer that," she remarked sarcastically, snorting as several instances that could prove him wrong entered her mind.

Tommy sighed and took a sip from the glass in his hand. The alcohol burned as it went down his throat, but it didn't do nearly enough to quell the pounding in his head. "All I'm looking for here is a little bit of loyalty; for my wife to understand the reasons behind this deal and why it'll help our company," he spoke with a level voice after a few, tense moments had passed.

"You've got my devotion...you've always got my devotion, Tommy, that's never in question...but man, I can hate you sometimes," (Y/N) spoke with a sigh before she pressed her thumb and index fingers into her eyes, hoping it would alleviate the pressure she was feeling in her head. She looked up at him then, feeling the weight of the silence in the room as it came down around her. She continued speaking when he stayed quiet, "you need to think long and hard about the business you're going to be conducting here, Tommy. It will hurt this family if it goes bad...twice as much as any other business deal that you've carried out in the past," her words were spoken with the utmost seriousness, her eyes not straying from his as she delivered her message.

With that, she turned and walked out of his office, leaving him standing, staring at the open doorway that she'd exited through. He held his gaze there for a few moments before letting out a sigh and tipping his head back. The rest of the whiskey slid down his throat in one go, and he poured himself another glass before making his way over to where his desk was situated. His eyes still stayed focused on the doorway as he went through the motions of lighting himself a cigarette. The whiskey hadn't quelled the pounding in his head, so he hoped that the nicotine would.

Three cigarettes and another glass later, the pounding was still there. He knew now what, or rather who, would stop it, but he was surely the last person that they wanted to see at the moment. He wouldn't know what to say if he went and faced her anyway. So he stayed put at the desk and tried to find other ways to keep his mind off of what was bothering him the most.

What his wife thought did matter to him, twice as much as anyone else's opinions did, but he just couldn't get past the magnitude of what this deal was promising. Lives would forever be changed if this all worked out the way he hoped it would. But (Y/N) usually wasn't wrong when she got bad feelings about things. Now he was in limbo.

In the end, he would be the only one to make the decision. He could already tell that it was going to be one that would take all night for him to come to. So, while hyper-aware of the thoughts of the woman who was surely sleeping soundly upstairs, he began weighing the sides out; hoping that one choice would become clearer than the other.

Tagged: @mystcldydrms @the-anxious-youth @cloudofdisney @look-at-the-soul @elenavampire21 @mrsalwayswrite @julkaamazing @evita-shelby @lilyrachelcassidy @notyour-valentine @shelbydelrey @december16-1991 @onlydeadcells @peakyswritings @just-a-blackhole @watercolorskyy @strayrockette @peakyduchesss @alexxavicry @captivatedbycillianmurphy @yummycastiel @dark-academia-slut @tommystargirl @stevie75 @lyarr24 @signorellisantichrist @zablife @anotherblinder @midnightmagpiemama @cillmequick @rangerelik @dandelionprints @letal-y-poetica @itscheybaby @gypsy-girl-08 @insanitybyanothername @depxiety @raincoffeeandfandoms @dragons-are-my-favorite @acewritesfics @forgottenpeakywriter @cljordan-imperium @areyenotfondofmelobster @little-diable @thomashelbyswife

MASTERLIST

Listen to Fine Line by Harry Styles:

HERE.

#tommy shelby #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby x y/n #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby one shot #tommy shelby oneshot #tommy shelby fanfiction #tommy shelby fanfic #tommy shelby moodboard #peaky blinders #peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinders x y/n #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders one shot #peaky blinders oneshot #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders fanfiction #peaky blinders moodboard #fanfiction #fanfic #k makes moodboards

[chefkids]

Fork Theory

This is the second part of the Spoon-Fork-Knife Theory  that I believe makes up the main themes of the whole series and each season. Make sure to read the Spoon Theory before this and then read The Knife Theory. Mikey’s fork used to represent a moment of extreme stress is really what sold me on the SFK theory being a core part of the show, because it is so not subtle once you realize what they symbolize.

Richie was reaching his limit with too many forks. He had lost his best friend, his wife left him, he had no purpose or ambition. He was constantly being pushed aside and given tasks that were small and inconsequential enough because everyone expects him to mess up.

Richie became a “fork” to other people, especially Carmy and Sydney, when he was constantly stressing them out and getting in the way of their progress. He was scared of change and annoyed by them because they were so driven and had a clear purpose when he did not.

He was reaching his fork limit and felt like he was being left behind with all the changes happening to the restaurant. Every time he tried to help he just messed things up. He asked Carmy about what his purpose was and told him the story of the guy who had no skills and just watched trains all day, and eventually all his friends moved on without him. It wasn’t until he embraced the literal forks he was given to clean, that he found a way to his purpose.

Carmy and his entire family have far too many forks. Donna has her drinking issues and mental illness. Mikey had his issues. The whole absent father of it all. Mikey stayed behind and lived with Donna in attempts to care for her, but it wore him down so much that he gave up on trying to fix up The Beef and he gave up on himself. Natalie and Carmy felt as though they have to be the ones fix them. Natalie stayed behind to try and care for Donna even when she refused her help, while Carmy left home to try and be good enough for Mikey to let him help The Beef. Carmy tries to cover up the forks and ignore them, he ignored the obvious signs that something was really wrong with Mikey. He ignored confronting his mother in order to avoid creating further tension and escalating things into bigger “forks”. Meanwhile Natalie tries to address them directly.

Donna hit her fork limit when Natalie asked her at the table if she was okay because she can not handle acknowledging she is not okay.

Mikey hit his fork limit when Lee made a dig at Donna’s outburst, because Mikey knows better than anyone what it is actually like to be with her and to constantly have to handle every “fork” that Donna throws his way. And in a way, Carmy hit his fork limit and had to leave them after this.

Carmy had been avoided dealing with his “forks” for a long time. The biggest “fork” still yet to be addressed is that he apparently has yet to even see his mother since returning to Chicago. So by opening night all the metaphorical and even physical forks came flooding in at once, from the broken fridge handle, the shelves in the wrong place, the lack of real forks, the broken toilet, his situation with Claire, even Donna showing up, it all came crashing at once.

Donna tried to remove her “forks” by leaving the party and crashing her car to get everyone to stop and finally pay attention to her, because she feels so overlooked for all her efforts that she put into the dinner. After the incident happened, Carmy went even further away from his family, because removing himself is the only way he knows how to cope with “forks”.

When the to-go disaster happens he becomes a “fork” and makes the situation worse for everyone by freaking out, so Sydney and Marcus also had to remove themselves from the “fork”. When Sydney quit his first instinct to get rid of the most obvious “fork” by breaking the ticket machine instead of actually fixing anything. Then he almost let the building burn down because he just wanted it all to stop and did not have the “spoons” to cope with any more “forks” by himself now that Sydney wasn’t even there.

Carmy already knew since the start of the day he was not okay with Claire. Instead of addressing the “fork” he had with her before she came to the restaurant, when he knew he had to be focused on Sydney, he ignored it and let the “fork” get to him which got him locked in the walk in. He even acknowledge that he “did this to himself”, because he knows he was avoiding all his “forks”.

Carmy does have the "spoons" to do what he needs to do and work well, he is capable of being a good chef and a good person and being emotionally in tune, but he can't access his "spoons" half the time because he is still riddled with the trauma of all his forks that he pretends he doesn't have.

#fork theory #the bear meta #the bear #carmen berzatto #sydney adamu #sydcarmy #carmy x sydney #syd x carmy #spoon theory

[oksanas-sun]

benita appreciation post because she and her relationship with v were one of my fav things about s4

i love this scene for several reasons.

1. the fact that benita took one glance at villanelle and immediately her maternal instincts seemed to kick in

2. v's reaction to being called a good girl🥹🥰

3. her cute lil smile in the last panel, when benita rubs her shoulder :3

this is just so precious to me because it's one of the few times where we actually see v being lowkey nervous and shy. And so genuinely gentle too, like the care with which she cleans benita's wound (couldn't put a gif for that sadly since the limit was 10:,) )

(I also think it shows so much of her growth because this is the first time she actually asks for confirmation instead of just taking it literal & going ahead with the killing, like how she cut off maxi's dick as it was apparently the only reason Anna was still with him, or how she killed gabriel since he said he wanted to be dead. But here she actually asks if it's what benita wants.)

v looks so sad & embarrased here, like a kid who knows they're about to be scolded but benita just... isn’t impressed at all. There's no judgement, not even a hint of fear. And v's tiny smile when she realises that, and that she can actually use her "skills" for something good is just too precious.

again, so many feels. How she's kinda smug (in a very sweet like yeah, i made sure he's gone, you're safe kinda way) but when benita cups her cheek and looks at her so very gently, there's just this immediate switch. This is one of the moments where ~Oksana~ bubbles really closely under the surface, i think. Everything about her just becomes so much softer and smaller in that moment, even tho she catches herself and changes the topic. But just,,, i have a lot of feelings about the way v behaves around benita. It's like this look in her eye, this yearning for the parental affection that she never received as a child.

so yeah, i wish we'd gotten more of benita tbh.

#villanelle #killing eve #benita #protect oksana at all cost

[melishade]

hiya, just wanted to pop in to say I'm obsessed with aop and wanted to share how I imagined your Megs and Op :) if I got the time I might follow up with Arcee and Jackie

I couldn't put it on part 5 of the Masterlist because there's an apparent limit on how many hyperlinks I can put! but I'm so happy for this! Thank you! EVERYONE GO LOOK AT FOOLISHER!

#attack on prime #transformers prime #tfp #send me asks #ao3 #asks #I could never do realistic portraits! I love it! #Also does Optimus have earrings?! #THEY LOOK SO GOOD! #the earrings would make people fawn over him more! lol #human formers #fanart #art #humanformers #holoform #seriously the realism of it looks awesome!!!! #THANK YOU!!!! #Also #fluffy beard #I also like how Megatron looks annoyed and how Optimus looks happy #shows the contrast in character #tfp megatron #megatron #tfp optimus #optimus prime #tfp optimus prime

[cafeinthemoon]

King - Chapter III

Chapter 3/?

Wordcount 4k

Title Dragonet

Fandom Shuumatsu no Valkyrie / Record of Ragnarok

Pairing Poseidon x reader

Previous chapters

1 . 2

Symbols ⭕ . ➕ . 🖤

Warnings: Mentions of blood and piercing; mentions of nudity

Tagging @cloveradora @the-dumber-scaramouche @mikkies @sl33py-zer0 @nooneknows8976 (If you want to be tagged in any of my stories, just leave a comment on this chapter or send an ask or a message)

N. A.: So, after almost saying sorry for the wordcount in the previous chapter, here I am with an even longer one lol I've put much effort in this one, specially bc it's the wedding night ;) (wedding nights are, apparently, on of my fav things to write).

A few words about the title: dragonets are a group/category of small, colorful fishes of "shy" behavior, greatly appreciated for people who raise fishes in aquariums. There are really interesting things about them to research :)

Also, I want to apologize in anticipation for the use of the word "manhood" in this chapter bc though I think it sounds good when it's isolated, it feels kinda ridiculous when you contextualize it (but this is just my opinion as someone who doesn't have English as their first language lol)

The Lord of the Seas, as silent as his own domain before a storm, didn’t give any signs that he has noticed your presence in the room until he stopped by your side before the altar, but a moment under his glare was enough to make you wish you were invisible.

He kept looking at your whole form, examining your appearance, that is, his servants’ work through the aspect of your hair, your skin and the gown you were wearing, analyzing your movements, the way you were staring at him, your breath, your shivers, everything. Those eyes, you guessed, were the eyes of someone who was used to have people’s lives and deaths in his hands, and you had no doubts that he could finish you right there if he decided you weren’t worthy of his time.

Fortunately for you – or not, you still didn’t know – you were worthy, and after his examinations, he opened his mouth… doing this to give you an order, as expected.

– Come forward. You are too distant from the altar.

Unlike you imagined, Poseidon had a soft, low voice, typical of a young man.

You hesitated, though you understood what was said, and for the first time a wrinkle of irritation appeared on his forehead.

– You are too distant from the altar, human.

The sentence was repeated in a slightly higher tone, but not even this was enough for you to make a move toward him. When he took one step toward you, it was the end of your self-control: you stepped back, and would have run away if he hasn’t reached you in a second. Your legs almost failed you, and it was a miracle that you didn’t let out a scream.

He raised his hand and you closed your eyes tight, too scared to see what was going to happen, but you opened them again when you felt his hand closing around your jawline; his skin was warm and his grip was far from rude.

What he did after that, however, made you doubt what you were experiencing.

First, he moved your face from one side to the other, as to verify its conditions; the second step was to raise his free hand to your ears’ height and snap his fingers beside each one, making you flinch; he then put his hand at your eyes’ height and showed you three fingers, moving them and observing as your eyes followed everything.

– Tell me – he ordered – How many fingers you see here?

You replied with some difficulty, less because your movements were limited by his hand than because of your nervousness.

– Three… – and, before you forgot the appropriate treatment, – Poseidon-sama.

Finally, he lowered his hand and let go of your jawline. Less patience was sensed in his voice when he spoke again.

– Now, tell me. If you can talk, if you can see me, hear my voice and understand what I say... Why don’t you respond when I speak to you?

You swallowed, and no word was heard from you. You could barely raise your eyes to him, but when you did, you saw him raising an eyebrow, and the corners of his lips curving themselves in a smirk.

What? A god can do this type of thing?

Apparently, not only he could do that, but he had also proficiency in teasing.

– Are you defying me, or are you just anxious?

You felt your cheeks warming up and looked away, but not before sensing his fingers touching your hair, brushing it behind your ear.

– So quiet, so hesitant and small... – he commented; and, with a chuckle, – I thought I would find a human here tonight, but instead of this… What are you? A dragonet?

Your eyes widened at the comparison. Now he was giving you names? What kind of man was that?

Your tongue was almost freed at that moment for you to make that very question, but before the words left your mouth, Poseidon grabbed your arm.

– There is no use for shyness here, woman. Come, now. Let's finish this.

He then led you to the spot he originally ordered you to take.

Now that you were seeing the altar from close, you could see details that went unnoticed before. For example, alongside the earrings, there was a white, folded piece of fabric on the tray, which use you didn’t find hard to guess: in case the bride didn’t have her ears pierced already, she would bleed, and the fabric would keep her clean. You used to wear earrings, but your last pair was taken away during the preparations for the wedding, as well as any other metallic object or jewel you might have had with you, so that you would be at least spared from the pain and the mess.

Poseidon took one of the pearls and approached it from your lips, holding it with his fingertips.

– Kiss it.

You obeyed, despite the strangeness of the instruction. He then moved your hair away from your right ear, exposing it, as well as your neck and collar, and pinned the earring on your lobe. You flinched at his touch, but one look from him and you stopped avoiding his hands.

The process was repeated with the second pearl, and you knew that the easiest part of the ceremony was over.

Poseidon was the first to speak after it.

– These pearls are the sign of the Emperor’s wives – he started – Not only for the others, but for yourself. From now on, your heart, your mind, your body and your spirit belong to me. Whenever I tell you to come, you come. When I tell you to leave, you leave. When I tell you to speak, you do it, and if I want you to be silent, you do it as well. You will carry my children, and only them; no one else can touch you and stay alive, for these pearls must be their only warning. No attempt of removing them will be tolerated, nor even if they come from yourself. Always remember this, and you will stay in my favor.

Finally, he raised the back of his right hand and told you to kiss it, as the ultimate sign of your compliance. No, you weren’t really agreeing with all of that; you never asked or expected it, but you gave him the kiss. You knew it was marking a permanent change in your life, but how many things have already changed since you were taken away from home? Even when you were trapped in the depths of the seas, marked as a god’s belonging, you still had hopes of finding your way, if not out of his domain, at least through it, but you would have to navigate between many things to get there, most of them unpleasing. You still had to learn where you were stepping into, and for this you had to study the territory.

Your study already began, with your arrival at the lodge and your friendship with Alyssa, and now it would continue with this strange wedding.

With the kiss, the ceremony was over. Poseidon held your wrist and, without any additional explanation, walked you around the altar, to the doors through which he arrived. With one hand, he pulled them, and a new path appeared before you.

His steps were steady, too fast for you to follow without panting; you would have stayed behind if he wasn’t holding you. At some point, when you almost stumbled, he finally stopped and turned to you, disappointed.

– Too slow.

You just stared at him, unable to speak.

– Humans used to be a bit stronger in the past – and, assuming a more serious tone, – I am not sure if I like what I see now.

And before you could think of a reaction, he grabbed you by your waist and threw you over his shoulder. You let out a little scream, and had no response from him but a tightening on his grip before he continued to walk on the same pace as before.

This is so humiliating.

The only advantage of this – if you could call it an advantage – was that you were spared from any anxiety that a longer trip to the chambers where your marriage would be consummated would provoke.

***

Poseidon only put you down when you passed the chambers’ entry, closing the door behind him.

You immediately stepped away from him when you reached the floor. You haven’t gone too far when you felt a warm, comfortable texture under your feet; you looked down and found a black carpet that covered the entire place, forming what seemed to be a black sea.

It was when you realized the wideness of that place.

It was like two or three rooms with your lodge’s size were built together, but without walls to separate them, and the existing ones were even higher, leading to a ceiling that reminded you of the skies out there, toward which you saw the bright star flying at that night. All around you, there was a cold, bluish light that touched everything, from the decorations on the walls and the furniture to your skin and gown, yet your sight was as good as if you were under the daylight.

Some meters ahead you, at your left, there was an enormous canopy bed with four columns and a golden shell on the top of each one, and with curtains and sheets so dark that they could be black or indigo under that light; the curtains were opened, but you couldn’t help wondering if you’d feel like drowning in an abyssal zone if they were closed around you. Not so far from it, there was a small table with a bottle upon it.

There’s oppression in each corner of this room.

All of this you noticed the instant when the door was being locked behind you; you turned to it, passing your arms around yourself. Your wedding night was going to happen, then.

Poseidon turned to you and, when he started walking at you direction, Proteus’ advice came back to your mind in a flash.

Trust the silence, the modesty and the compliance, and everything will be good for you.

Everything would be good if you chose to become his Lord’s wife. If you acted like he instructed, you would survive.

But would you still be you?

Anything that goes beyond this you will do at your own risk.

He spoke as if your death was a certainty in case you dared speak. However, if you didn’t do anything now, you would lose what made you human.

My freedom.

And maybe Proteus-sama needed to know more about humans, because if he understood that trying to prevent you from doing something by threatening you with the unknown was the precise way to encourage you to do it, he would never speak like that to you.

To him, my voice means my death. But, to me, it always meant change.

And because, besides a human, you were also a merchant.

And the best thing a merchant does is to trade.

You stopped trembling, and decided to make your first offer.

Right now, Poseidon was going to untie the stripes of his robe, but was still dressed with it. You pulled back and knelt on the carpet, with your palms before your head and your face hidden upon the ground.

You couldn’t see Poseidon’s expression when he saw that, but a sort of annoyance – and maybe a bit of confusion – was sensed in his voice.

– What is the meaning of this? Are you really going to beg for my favor right now?

You tried not to stutter in your reply.

– Yes, my Lord.

You heard him sigh.

– Well, whatever. What do you want to ask?

It was the moment.

– Please, my Lord… Kill me.

Now, a slight change in his voice was sensed: whatever he imagined you asking for, it was clear that he wasn’t expecting something like this.

– What?

You raised your eyes to him, afraid of going too far but eager to observe the emotions on his face while you spoke:

– Please... Kill me... Make me one of your servants... Or just throw me away... But do not make me a mother.

It was hard to tell if Poseidon was shocked or offended by your request. The best you could say was that he was intrigued.

– Do you understand what you are asking from me, human? I can finish you with a move of my hand if I want, yet you would prefer this rather than having my children? – and with a hint of indignation, – What kind of plead is this?

You couldn’t risk his patience now, as much as you couldn’t risk having your request denied. You took a moment to adjust your posture, kneeling with your hands upon your lap, not looking directly into his eyes, then started to speak lower, as if opening your heart to him.

– Poseidon-sama, if you give me a death like this, I would be honored. But if you make me bear a child, it would be the longest, the most painful death I can think of – your hands gripped on your gown – Please, show your wife mercy and don’t give her such fate.

The Lord of the Seas spent a moment observing you. Then, without saying a word, he turned his back on you and walked toward a corner of the room, out of your sight. When he came back, you shivered: he has now returned to his previous spot and had his Trident with him.

So... this is the fate he chose for me.

His grip around the weapon’s base increased, and he extended it toward you in the blink of an eye. You only had time to bow your head...

But the strike never came.

You looked again, and found the three blades pointing at you, at your eyes’ height, the metal shinning under the blue light.

He's not going to kill me, then?

– Touch it – he instructed – Beware of the blades.

You understood you were supposed to put your fingers upon the symbol beyond the blades, and did it. Despite not being made of the same material of them, it was sharp, and freezing to the touch. With all the possible caution, you moved your hand away, back to your lap, and the Trident was pulled back to his owner’s side.

– Here you have it. The sign of my favor. Now, on your feet.

You obeyed and he went to return the Trident to its place, then passed by the small table where you saw the bottle. He opened it and brought it to you: it was an interesting object, with an elliptical shape and a rounded cap, entirely decorated with small, reddish jewels and aged gold. Before you understood what was going on, he grabbed your jawline just like he did before and approached the bottle’s neck to your lips, making you swallow part of the content. You took two shots of the fluid, cold and bittersweet down your throat.

You coughed a bit when he moved the bottle away, putting it back on the table.

– What is this, my Lord? – you had the nerve to ask.

– I am simply answering your request – his reply was unfazed – With this, you will not be able to conceive for one month. The next month, on the same day, you will take it again.

You frowned.

– I don’t understand. If my request will be answered, why do I have to...

You never finished the sentence. You blinked and the next thing you knew it was your lips being silenced with his index finger, after he returned to your side in an instant. Apparently, moving so fast that mortal eyes can barely follow him was one of the Sea Lord’s abilities, something that you supposed to be both impressive and lethal.

He had the same smirk as before when he replied to you.

– Let me tell you something, dragonet. Killing you, thus making you a subject of my elder brother, would be rather a waste after bringing you here. Even worse would be making you a servant with these frail hands of yours – he grabbed your wrists and approached your right ear, whispering – And, concerning sending you away... do you think you would survive as a rejected offer? Do you even understand what it means?

You opened your mouth in shock and he chuckled.

– Not even your people would have mercy on you.

You remembered the relief in Alyssa’s tone when she said she was glad for being accepted.

So, there’s really a taboo surrounding rejected offers.

You didn’t have much time to think of this. You felt his arm passing around your waist and pulling you to him, in a way that you were forced to stay on tip toes, your hands upon his chest, with no chance to escape. With his free hand, Poseidon took a lock from your hair, approaching it from his nostrils, smelling it intensely as he let it slip between his fingers.

– Finally, I conceded you the favor of not becoming a mother, but you are still my wife, you understand? – he approached his lips to your neck, brushing them on your skin as he spoke – You were the one who took me out of boredom this year with this absurd request of yours. Who told you I would not want to see more of you?

Your eyes widened with that. So, he was indeed willing to keep you around.

Staying this close to him was not that bad, though: not only he was handsome, but his body was warm and the fabric of his robe was soft; besides, from him you could sense a deep, addicting fragrance that reminded you of the sweetness of flowers, with a hint of the salinity of the seas. You inhaled it in silence, wondering if it was elaborated to make women compliant.

All of this was observed carefully by Poseidon, and what he said to you about it made you hold your breath.

– Not only this, but you are a terrible liar, you know? – he whispered in your ear – I can sense, smell, your warmth, your arousal from here... It is still just a tiny bit, but it can always get better…

Just like at the beach, when you stood with the water at your waist and your body was too slow to react and avoid the next wave, there was no way to escape the one brought by the god who commanded all of them: the strength of his arm keeping you close to him, having only the thin fabric of his robe and your gown to separate you; his fragrance, which you still weren’t sure to be a perfume or his natural scent; his breath upon your ear, your neck as he spoke; his voice, soft and composed yet youthful, sweet even in the coldest threats and mockery, invading your thoughts like a lullaby, numbing your senses, making his authority acceptable.

If this is what facing a god feels like… how do I fight him?

Not knowing how, you didn’t fight. However, you hoped that one day you would find the answer, for the path to it was right there with you.

The answer is himself.

This thought barely crossed your mind when Poseidon suddenly released you from his grip, and you almost fell. Before you did, you felt his hand holding your left arm, while the other grabbed your gown by the cleavage and pulled it with no hesitation; in a second, the pretty piece was turned into shreds that were promptly discarded with one move of his hand.

You covered your mouth, then your chest with the shock. That was the reason behind that servant’s laughter and the enigmatic response of her partner: you didn’t receive anything more because you wouldn’t need anything more.

His eyes passed all over you, in a way that nothing escaped from them – not even the tremble in your legs. It wasn’t clear that if he approved what he saw, but whatever he might have found displeasing, he would discuss it with his servants later. You pitied them for the tyrannical lord they had to serve.

Poseidon let go of your arm and unraveled the stripe of his robe, getting rid of it as fast as he did with your gown. The blue fabric fell to his feet, exposing everything and making you understand that it wasn’t for nothing that he held such prideful posture.

He was perfect in every possible detail.

At that moment, none of you spoke, and you kept observing, feeling something between embarrassment and awe: the absence of flaws impressed and enchanted you, from the uniformed tone of his skin, to the thin, golden layers of hair shinning over it in different parts of his body; the line of his muscles, as defined as if made of marble; his broad chest and strong arms; the shape of his abdomen, his groins and manhood; his firm thighs and legs. It was hard not to imagine yourself being held, touched, taken by him, and that was precisely what he wanted you to think of, for he stood there long enough for you to catch all those details, fix them in your mind and give room to desire.

Of course. He expects me to give him my undivided attention.

And it was the easiest thing for him to get it, you had to admit.

He came closer to you again, but unlike you imagined, he didn’t surround you with his arms: instead, he held your left shoulder as to keep you in place while his free hand held your chin, in a way that looked more like a study than an attempt of seduction.

– I am going to prepare you first – he spoke more to himself than to you – Most humans use kisses for this type of thing, don’t they? It worked with the previous one – his thumb caressed your lips as he approached his own, whispering – It might work for you as well…

And it worked. As he approached his mouth and put it over yours, you closed your eyes, afraid that he would just suffocate you with greed, but none of this happened: he started with small, brief touches on your lips and the corners of them; noticing your compliance, he made the kisses longer and experimented with them, sucking your lower lip, opening your mouth to reach your tongue with his, while his hands started caressing your face, your neck and shoulders, then go all over your body, warming up your skin; they were strong, but didn’t lack gentleness.

As he extended his kisses to your chin, your neck and collarbone, with his hands continuing to work on the rest, you began to feel sleepy, even relaxed.

Even when humans aren’t common here, he really knows how to do it with them. Maybe these things are not that different with other folks.

When Poseidon understood it was the right time, he took you in his arms and carried you to the canopy bed. Concretizing your fear, he indeed closed the curtains when he laid you on the mattress, so the apprehension of being surrounded by darkness couldn’t be denied, but at the same time it was good not to have yourself exposed as before.

As cold ripples that reach your feet when you first enter the sea, you felt his hands touching your feet, then your legs; it tickled you, but when you tried to move them away, you sensed his hand closing around your ankle and pulling you down to him.

– Where are you going, dragonet? – he put his body over yours, and you sensed his hand leaning on the sheets beside your head – It is too late for this.

You didn’t reply. With his other hand, he searched for your mouth, and carried on with the kisses when he found it. At the same time, you felt his knee moving your leg to the side, separating it from the other as he laid upon you.

You were now one of Poseidon’s wives.

#shuumatsu no valkyrie poseidon #record of ragnarok poseidon #poseidon x reader #snv poseidon #ror poseidon #snv x reader #ror x reader #ror poseidon x reader #snv poseidon x reader

[keets-writing-corner]

I read the lucilith thing you wrote. Holy shit. It took all day, and there's only two fucking chapters but it took all day.

I've never read anything that felt so "canon," that's the only way i can put it. It felt just like it was written into the script of a far away season in the actual show.

You're insane at writing bro. I don't rlly know much abt you but I was able to find this blog and I js wanted to let you know (hope you find this ig) how fucking good that story is.

Can't wait for chapter 3.

If I had time to draw rn I'd be drawing a huge bearhug to the anon symbol, maybe later today tho?👀

[obligatory link to fic if any followers of mine have missed it]

Anon this is THE BEST start to my day! WTF THANK YOU SO SO MUCH! It warms my heart that people like you are enjoying my writing so much!

Yeah I... have a bad habit of making projects way to big for my own good. I JUST HAVE SO MANY IDEAS DAMMIT in the past I've solved that issue by going, "this fic can only have x amount of chapters" and that's worked. This time I told myself only 5, and my brain just went "but no word limit right?" and now it's starting to look like each chapter is going to be 20-30k words 💀 and each one is taking me about a month to complete... I actually started writing chapter 1 end of january, start of february and I only posted it end of february. Chapter 2 similar thing... BUT so many people are really enjoying it! So it's worth it right?

hey

hey

you

come closer

you want a sneak peek of 3? This is about a page into the start

__________

High pitched ringing was all Lilith could perceive at first. Eventually, as time passed, she became aware of more things. The air smelled foul. She was laying atop something soft, but underneath the soft layer was the hardest rock she’d ever felt. As far as sounds, it seemed like there was a faint rumbling in the distance, but nothing extravagant. 

Blearily, she managed to open her eyes. 

Lilith was face to face with Lucifer who seemed to be unconscious, just as she had been moments ago. The soft layer she was on was his wing, with another one lying limp on top of her. 

She sat up slowly, groaning. Her body ached and her joints felt sore. The wings that were on top of her, slid off. 

There was something grey drifting down from the sky, and apparently, she and Lucifer had been laying there long enough that a thin layer of it had started to build up on them. Well, mostly Lucifer. Up until now, she had been safely shielded by his wings. 

Lilith gave him a nudge, “Lu, wake up,” she told him before moving to stand herself. 

The sky was a deep blood red. Any clouds that formed were either grey or black. The ground too, the harsh rocky terrain she and Lucifer were on was also a dark grey. It was now that she realized, she and Lucifer were dead center in a crater of sorts. 

That’s when the previous events all rushed back to her. Heaven attacked them and cast them down into, what was it the elders called it? Hell? Lucifer desperately shielded and protected her from the vicious onslaught and then from the impact of the fall itself. 

Now with the full context, Lilith rushed back to Lucifer who still remained on the ground, “Lu?!” Lilith pushed back the wings that were covering his body, and unveiled multiple wounds from heaven’s attack. The blood had long since dried, and Lilith realized she too was covered in Lucifer’s blood. His wings were also covered in his blood as heaven viciously skewered them to prevent him from flying back out. His once flowing robes were all but tatters barely clinging to his form.

Panic now fully setting in as she realized he looked even worse than when he had fallen from heaven and wasn’t even stirring, not even a little. She couldn’t even hear him breathe raspy breaths like he had last time.

“Lu! Say something!” Lilith immediately cradled him. 

His head immediately rolled back limply as she pulled him to her. Lilith needed to readjust her grip on him in order for his head to lean against her torso gently. 

He had protected her… From everything. But the final blow had been the fall. If what little Lilith had experienced from the fall due to his protection had been enough to temporarily knock her unconscious and make her sore then… What must it have felt like to take the full brunt of it?? 

Tears began to build up in her eyes as she recalled him assuring her that she’d be okay. He had been unable to stop the crash, so he did everything he could to make sure she was going to be safe. Suddenly, it made sense why he had repositioned himself underneath her, to cushion her fall with his own body. 

“Lu?!” she called again, “Lucifer!” 

He remained still and unresponsive. 

Lilith’s breath hitched in her throat. He couldn’t be- he wouldn’t- this couldn’t have… killed him??? 

Lilith pulled him tighter to her, choking back tears and shook with rage against heaven. Why push her and him into that crevice?? All this because he wanted to help her and Eve but that was against the rules apparently?? Weren’t they supposed to be good?! Weren’t they supposed to be kind?! And what could she have done while the elders attacked? She had been powerless to help! Worse… They used her to lure him into the hole. As Lilith held him and choked back sobs, it occurred to her that he still felt warm. 

The faintest, slightest bit of hope fluttered in her, and she pulled away to get a better look at Lucifer. He still was completely still, and unresponsive but… maybe…

Lilith leaned her ear against his chest, hoping for what seemed to be the impossible. 

Faintly. 

Very

very 

faintly 

She could hear it. A heartbeat. Even fainter, she could hear a weak rattling breath from deep in his chest. 

He was alive…

He was still alive!

Lilith pulled him into a hug, cupping the back of his head and holding him tightly. Her tears now weren’t from grief but relief. “You’re going to be okay,” she whispered to him, “It’s going to be okay…”

__________

anyways, this was an absolutely LOVELY start to my day ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️ would love to talk to people about it if they want

thank you so much for coming to find me and leaving me this lovely comment!

#anon ask #hazbin hotel #lucifer morningstar #lucifer #lucilith #fan fic #COMPLIMENTS #ASHHHHHASFLKADSFKLMLK #THIS MADE ME SO HAPPY #At long last #my creative writing degree is fulfilling its true purpose #making people cry on the internet #jk #gonna be in such a good mood today #best thing to wake up to I swear

[ohyeahben10]

Have you done headcanons for Appoplexians or Cerebrocrustaceans yet? If you haven’t done either, your pick, and if you’ve done both, you can instead share headcanons about your favorite alien species or the one you have the most thoughts about!

I haven’t posted about Cerebrocrustaceans specifically but I have talked about them before! Namely in my Vulpin headcanons as I like to imagine them being in the same planetary system! I’d love to talk about these crabs some more!

Intergalactically, Cerebrocrustaceans have a somewhat bad reputation. Not only can they be hard to work with, but because of how they drained their former planets Encephalonus I, Enceph. II, and Enceph. III of all life.

Them being hard to work stems from deeply instinctual territorial behaviors. Despite their highly advanced intelligence, Cerebrocrustaceans simply never evolved out of their primitive hostility to Any Threat to their Territory.

This being where the species’ rivalry with the Galvans stems from.

Additionally, Cerebrocrustaceans have a strong dislike of Planchaküles. Cerebrocrustaceans culture highly values order and dignity, while Planchaküles behave as absolute chaos goblins and achieve incredible mechanical advancements that easily rivals Cerebrocrustacean work.

Their territorial nature makes lab assistances a non-concept on Encephalonus IV.

When group collaboration is needed (such as the creation of the Cerebroian Currmary as discussed in the aforementioned Vulpin post) Cerebrocrustaceans will agree to meet in a neutral gathering space owned by none of the working Cerebrocrustaceans.

Planet hopping greatly encouraged adaptation in Cerebrocrustacean biology. Modern populations are observed to be more capable of operating on less food and more resistant to pressure changes.

On the topic of adaptation, there is very apparent differences between subsections of Cerebrocrustaceans. The most notable is some being aquatic and others being terrestrial. (This is can seen in examples such as Brainstorm requiring a breathing brace, while Dr. Psychobos does not.)

Aquatic Cerebrocrustaceans have built expansive underwater infrastructure that spans for miles on record. Their water built technology puts them on interplanetary interest.

Semiaquatic, air-breathing Cerebrocrustaceans typically live just above the water, enjoying the brackish and humid conditions.

Fully terrestrial variants seemingly instead push themselves as high above the water as they can manage, many apparently believing this to be proof of their higher advancements to their cousins.

There are five united societies on Encephalonus IV. Two of these are fully aquatic, two semiaquatic, and one fully terrestrial. When planet wide matters are up for discussion, representatives from each of these five nations meet on unowned territories and attempt to reach the most mutually beneficial agreement.

Cerebrocrustaceans do not care for their offspring. Eggs are laid and left. Newborns will hatch and fight for rugged survival until their brains have developed enough to join proper society.

There is no social concept of romance in Cerebrocrustacean culture. Reproduction exists as a part of a natural cycle, usually having little intimacy in it.

On this, there is a booming interest in hormonal adjustment practices that remove the urge to breed.

There is no mass recognized currency on Encephalonus IV. Accommodations (such as travel, lab spaces, high functioning homes, etc) are earned through having the Cerebrocrustacean’s intelligence being recognized. If your work is considered impressive and worthwhile, you will have access to ever increasing resources.

Many Cerebrocrustaceans will agree to off planet work with no financial compensation, believing the work will bolster their reputation on their homeworld.

Meanwhile, so to say “low class” Cerebrocrustaceans are limited to a conservative amount of resources to use. Caused by their society’s fear of draining their planet like they had in the past. Cerebrocrustaceans at the bottom of the bucket are expected to work their way up to higher recognition through success. However, there is history of Cerebrocrustaceans whose failures are well known enough that they are “unofficially” given even smaller access to resources.

There are some Cerebrocrustacean whose measurement of intelligence are less material and more philosophical. They are not well respected.

Hope this is acceptable anon!

#my asks #ben 10 #brainstorm #cerebrocrustacean #encephalonus IV #headcanon

[ngardgni]

...So, we've been reading a few posts about how "Warrior Nun" is the best because it isn't like all the other queer shows, where apparently the queer couples have sex right away or non-queer shows that queer bait viewers, etc.

Let's just get something straight:

The original L-Word came out in 2004. That show was criticized for being too white, too narrow, too limiting in its depiction of gay women. In fact, it was mostly lesbians, and one bi woman (Tina) and most were femmes. Over the years, the show tried to course correct with the addition of other characters, most notably Max (Daniela Sea) and even that was fraught with controversy. At the time, Daniela Sea was interviewed about this and she had said (and we're paraphrasing here, that was a long time ago), that L-Word doesn't claim to represent all gay women, and she had hoped that there would be more representation of gay women, more movies, more tv shows to show the diversity, the variety, the spectrum of the gay experience.

At the time, pre-L-Word, there were only a handful of les/bi movies, mostly indie, some of questionable quality (there were a lot, we're not going to name names), some good (our favorite being "When Night is Falling" and "Incredibly True Adventures of Two Girls in Love"). On TV, we had "Ellen" which was groundbreaking and promptly cancelled, and there was "Carol the Lesbian" on "Friends", who was treated more as a joke, along with Chandler's trans-mom.

Cut to now - where we have so much more to choose from: we have period dramas with A-List directors and actors ("Carol", "Tell it to the Bees", "Portrait of a Lady on Fire"), we have shows on TV networks and online streaming platforms (tho the line between those are blurring). So we can watch Cyrano de Bergerac style movies ("The Half of It") or Asian American ones ("Saving Face") or pretty straightforward ones, really ("Imagine Me and You"), and though some, if not half or most series/shows have been cancelled ("Teenage Bounty Hunters", "I Am Not Okay with This", etc.), we still have more shows/series now that tell our queer stories than ever before ("Buffy the Vampire Slayer", "The 100", "Glee", etc.) and we still think that's better than the time the only thing we had was stories with only subtext to keep us company ("Fried Green Tomatoes", "Thelma and Louise", "A League of their Own").

So, whenever we feel like it's getting bad, let's also remember the time when queer stories weren't even mainstream, when directors and actors wouldn't even touch or go near our stories, when we didn't have as many allies in the industry willing to put our stories out there. A lot of our queer stories from before, though far from perfect, paved the way for stories like "Warrior Nun"to see the light of day. And we love that yeah, "Warrior Nun" is about a friends-to-lovers queer story, but that isn't just the one queer story that can be told. The diversity and complexity of the queer experience can hardly be encompassed by just one series and it's not fair to ignore or put the others down just because they don't fit what you like. We like that we have the more adult, they-had-a-one-night-stand-right-away-and-fell-in-love story of Kacy on NCIS Hawai'i, the sex-positive one of Leighton on "The Sex Lives of College Girls", the stranded-on-an-island one of "The Wilds", the vampire-and-vampire-slayer-falling-in-love narrative of "First Kill", etc.

So, let's keep celebrating the diversity and complexity of the queer female experience onscreen but still honor the stories that came before them. They may not have been perfect, hell, they were even problematic, but, again, at least we got these stories and our lives are better for it.

And let's keep pushing for "Warrior Nun"and other stories to keep getting made and renewed.

Like and reblog if you agree.

Drop your favorite queer women story (movie, series, show) below.

#alba baptista #ava silva #avatrice #kristina tonteri young #warrior nun season 2 #warrior nun #buffy the vampire slayer #lword(original) #the half of it #imagine me and you #saving face #when night is falling #incredibly true adventure of 2 girls in love #portrait of a lady on fire

[tempkiriri]

Tiger & Bunny Week (Day 1)

Technically I'm late but uhhhhhhhhhhhhh

April 2: Favorite Character, Episode, Movie, and/or Song

Most people seem to be doing them all, but I'll be skipping movie since there's only 2 of them.

Favourite Character:

MY CRINGEFAIL SON IVAN!!!! I relate to him immensely, even his dynamic with Edward I'd say I can somewhat relate to with someone in my life. It's uncanny. He tries his best to be outgoing but anxiety and self esteem issues sure are fucking bitches, so he can only really do it behind a mask. Even in S2 whilst his whole outlook may have taken a bit of a rollback, that's honestly realistic, not everyone can just keep marching and continuously improving themselves, there are setbacks and holes you can fall into at times. I wish we knew more about his personal life beyond his backstory of getting bullied as a child + what vague stuff we have of his hero academy days, a lot of heroes suffer from this, however. His passion for his hobbies is also just like me. He's cringe but he is free, just like many of us wish to be. Runner up is Keith I love the Autistic dog man

Favourite Episode:

I gotta go with Sky's The Limit. The title is a very OH GEE WHOS FOCUS EPISODE IS THIS kind but genuinely it doesn't prepare you for the content. There's a wholeass lore drop, an intense fight scene with a robot, and of course Keith being Keith. It also puts into focus just how much pressure heroes are put under when it comes to the rankings, and second place apparently not being enough for Poseidon Line is a very corporate reality. It's go big or go home. The ending is also like OH MY GOD IM CRYING???? Like, we know Cis isn't very capable of behaving like a human, but Keith doesn't realise she's not human at all, he treats her as any other person and falls harder than an anvil for her despite their short time in contact. It makes me think that Cis had a potential to be something, someone more than she was initially made for. And these two are a bit of a guilty pleasure ship that me and like 2 other people in the west side seem to ship and yes I will be taking those "Keith is still lowkey in love with her even in S2 era" crumbs thank you-

Favourite Song:

Oh shit this is where it gets tricky. I have so many, so I'll split it into categories:

OP: Earth Diver ED: Pilot Character Song: GHHHAAAAAA DONT MAKE ME CHOOOOOSE Other supplementary Song: Orion Wo Nazoru Hero Cover

I can't really put to words for Earth Diver, but I really like how it starts and kinda soothes you into the song before it really kicks. The lyrics are also very passionately sung.

I really like the calmer tone of Pilot and even though the explicitness of the shippyness isn't as heavy as Aida, the subtlety honestly fits them more. The credits themselves are also just beautiful; the visual aspect of them hits immensely hard in ep 14 especially since you saw what could happen to their suits in the fight the episode prior, and they're both no longer in their prime. Closing it out as they stare at the sunset makes me emotional and Proud Fiesta I love you but goddamn why did you return for Episode 25 that was a fucking mood killer I stg.

I love a lot of the character songs, with the ones from Best Of Hero very enjoyable romps, especially Mikirezakura and Thanks and Thanks Again, the energy these two songs have makes you wanna coreograph something. Some other highlights are POWER OF JUSTICE and Aaa Hero Suit. (Also Hidden Heroism actually kinda sucks it tries to be Mikirezakura 2 and thus loses out on an identity of its own which is very disappointing).

I love the harmony of the heroes cover of Orion, I can really picture them all in recording booths singing next to each other...who's the cheering guy, though? I've listened to this cover so many times and the line the cheering guy seemingly sings just sounds like Hirata's Kotetsu, I don't get it. I get wanting to balance the lyrics between groups and characters evenly but that was an awkward way to do it.

#tiger and bunny #tiger & bunny #tnbw

[itsmalachitenow]

PLEASE talk to me about Azalin, I want to hear every word of your take on him.

ANON, I AM SO HAPPY YOU ASKED ME THAT! I don't have a COMPLETE picture yet since I haven't read every single ravenloft supplement and novel, but I think I've read enough to put together a picture of what this man would be like in a relationship.

WARNING, I talk about his sex life and what his kinks are under the readmore. Another content warning for unhealthy relationship dynamics. Proceed with caution!

SO. Azalin Rex. Darklord of Darkon. Before we really get started, let's establish one thing.

From what I've seen, the only canonical time we see Azalin go out of his way for a sexual relationship is when he wanted a son. It wasn't out of love or lust, it was to secure an heir to Knurl.

A lot of people speculate that Azalin is aroace, and I can totally see that.

HOWEVER.

I also think, at the same time, he's a massive fucking pervert who gets off on other things.

Alt Text: "Azalin encourages his subjects to debase themselves as a method of societal control and to soothe his battered ego. He throws depraved, seasonal masquerades for the nobility to flaunt his superiority; he toys with his servants' allegiances, seeing how far they will sink to curry his favor. Azalin has honed torment to an art form."

This is an excerpt from one of the Ravenloft source books, and I think it perfectly illustrates what I'm talking about.

The biggest turn-on for Azalin Rex is power over others.

He doesn't join in the debauchery, he observes it. He sits back, gets comfortable, and watches people debase themselves. He tests people and sees how far they'll push themselves before they break. All because they want to please him and want his praise.

I think Azalin loves that. I think he loves having that power over so many people, and that he can have near-complete control over anyone he wants.

Hell, even in the questionable book Tower of Doom, where we see Azalin seduce one of his Kargat officers, it still plays into the dynamic we've established. He knows sex is a highly motivating reward. A high value treat, if you will. She did a good job, and sexual contact is particularly motivating for a lot of people, especially when it's with someone you would do anything to please.

The fact that close-contact sex with Azalin is apparently necrotic and her flesh starts to rot afterwards is another point. Azalin will cure the necrosis and restore her body when she returns, but only if she finishes the job he dispatched her to do. She is effectively on a time limit now, frantically trying to do what was asked of her so she doesn't die horribly.

Now, to be fair, I don't consider Tower of Doom to be canon. But it fits my hypothesis of Azalin's biggest kink being utter domination over others.

So what does that mean for a romantic relationship?

I think any relationship with Azalin Rex is going to be unhealthy at its core. He's a manipulative bastard who likes to watch how far people will go to please him. And it's not going to be a 'traditional' relationship--like I said, we never see him express any sort of interest in one in any of the canon supplements. A relationship with Azalin is going to be because he thinks it would be beneficial to him in some way, even if he is fond of the other person.

If he's still ruling over Darkon, I can see him taking someone as a partner if only because he's sick of his sycophantic court trying to throw their daughters at him in marriage. Very much an exasperated "You'll do" sentiment where it's more out of convenience than sexual attraction.

Even if he actually really likes the person he's with, he's still going to be subjugating them to his will, and that's just something that comes with the territory. Fundamentally, I think Azalin Rex is incapable of respecting anyone as an equal, and that's going to impact all of his interactions with people, romantic relationships included.

#azalin rex #my headcanons #dungeons and dragons #ravenloft #en ess eff tee

[ashton-slashton]

motion, stillness, and alternate for lily!

Ooo this will be fun!!

Motion: How Lily moves depends entirely on mood, dress, and occasion. Despite his bulky appearance, Lily is a very energetic man who likes to keep moving when he's not too busy brooding about something or another. He also moves as a man who perhaps isn't entirely aware of his strength. I've taken this directly from Claude Rains himself, in how he moved in his films and how he was described in his biography. Apparently, he was outstandingly strong, and had impeccable posture. When in uniform, of course, his movement is a bit stilted, but he always moves with a certain poise and drama, at least when he's not actually working (in which case it's all fast fast fast and a lot of muscle!)

Stillness: Even though he likes to keep in motion, Lily does often find himself in the stillness of his cabin, or at the dinner table, in which his motion is limited. However, he's got to have something in his hands at all times or else he'll explode. Whether it's a glass or a cigarette, or his own hands clasped together, he's got to have something! He's prone to fidgeting. Claude Rains would sometimes fidget with his fingers and hands as a means of timing himself, it helped him to remember his lines. He also speaks with his hands, gestures and motions. Even in stillness, there is motion! Sometimes he can get carried away though, lost in his brooding...

Alternate: Given that putting Lily in The Terror WAS the alternative to his original story (one that I honestly may never finish, but it's a pleasant thought), this is sort of a funny question! But even so, I have put Lily in SO many scenarios. He's been a scared, agoraphobic single father trying to find love in the 1980s after a vicious divorce scandal. He's been a vampire who adopted young victims of vampirism, giving them a place to coalesce in their illness. He's been a lonely lighthouse keeper, disgraced by the navy for the crime of being queer. He's been the captain of a tramp trade ship in the late 1960s, in love with one of his crew. He's been an actor, a musician, a businessman, a teacher, a sailor. He's even been a space pirate! He tends to dress similarly in all these stories, big coats and nice but antiquated suits. Scarves and windswept hair that he can't seem to tame. He's always fundamentally the same each time: an anxious man full of love for life but too scared to live it fully. He needs the extra push from an outside source. Or maybe he just needs love.

(Picture here from about 2018)

#ae: lily mcneil #fc: lily mcneil #asks #terrorposting #the terror #amc the terror

[sea-dukes-assistant]

Speaking of the crown I’m bracing myself for the possible narrative that HMTQ and sea duke masterminded the death of Princess Di storyline that I keep wondering if their going to implement and I still don’t think I’m prepared. (Even if they don’t it’s still bullshit and I still want it rant about it because so many people still believe it.)

You can literally Google the letters Philip wrote to Diana during the harder parts of her marriage to Charles of him giving advice the best he could, trying to find things that Diana and Charles could bond over, and also being fair to everyone involved asking Diana to ask herself honestly if her previous behavior of how she treated Charles was fair to Charles and if that could’ve driven Charles to distance himself from her. He also said that him and HMTQ absolutely did *not* approve of *either of them* having extramarital affairs what so ever (Diana was having affairs with other men, some of them married men themselves might I add, and Charles had Camilla *after the breakdown of the marriage* in I believe 1986). HMTQ and Philip absolutely did try and help Diana and Charles and were really hoping for reconciliation in the marriage, not just solely for the “sake of the crown” but for their grandkids, Charles as their son and yes Diana as well because they did care for her as a person and as a daughter in law who was a loving mother to their two grandsons. Diana called them ma and pa and wrote with loving tones to them always. HMTQ (apparently) would call Diana personally just to check in and make sure she was ok. Sea duke and Liz basically tried to act like unofficial marriage counselors for a while by having sit down talks with them and letting them both explain their side. After 10 years of the constant back and forth, the constant headache I have no doubt that Liz and sea duke probably reached a peak and couldn’t deal with it anymore. They are humans with limits too and sometimes you have to wash your hands with certain situations that you have no control over because if not you will lose your shit. With that being said though people don’t want to remotely consider that although Diana was an amazing, beautiful, caring soul who deserves recognition for her humanitarian work (and killer fashion sense IMO) she was a troubled soul and needed help that the royal family wasn’t able to give her because *she* wasn’t willing to accept the help nor admit that she was also flawed. There is literally 2 sides to every story. Diana wasn’t entirely innocent. The royal family weren’t a bunch of uncaring snobs who completely neglected a young shy sweet girl just because they are all secretly sadists. They didn’t kill her. The family were all distraught and in shock because of her death. They didn’t react and immediately put out a statement after her death not because they didn’t care but because they are also human, and were also trying to gather themselves, they were also trying to make sense of what happened and help her two sons grieve privately which they were very much entitled to. That scene where Prince Philip basically corners Diana at Sandringham in the crown and tells her that her feelings aren’t important because she’s just there to serve the queen is soooo utterly disgusting and untrue. Fictional or not shouldn’t have been allowed. It’s a dangerous narrative to spin that has absolutely no historical backing to it at all. Season 1 and 2 of the crown were actually pretty good all things considered if you take out the whole “philips didling ballerinas, The queen might be didling lord porchester” fuckery. Season 3 until now has just been an utter shit show and if the rumors about the palace being pissed about it are true they are absolutely valid to be mad about it because so many people take that show way too seriously like it’s a documentary with real life accounts added in and now we will have possibly millions of people believing terrible portrayals of actually pretty cool people.

Holy novel, Batman.

I have nothing to add to this, except that Peter Morgan can get fucked.

#The Crown #my mans deserves so much better