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caramelmochacrow · 11 months

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OKAY. im sorry but i need to infodump abt my kyoko half-filipino headcanon rlly quick and i cant tell it to anyone so RARGH KYOKO FATHER HEADCANONS TOO TECHNICALLY.

her father is born and raised in cavite and moved to bulacan when he was in his teenage years and he moved to japan to find better jobs there when he got older. he meets kyoko's mother and yada yada yada love story here for them and kyoko is born!

her father had a lot of album cds, vhs tapes, and recordings of many songs of bands/singers he loved back in his country (the eraserheads, parokya ni edgar, the itchyworms, freddie aguilar, etc.) and let kyoko listen to them when she was younger, letting her learn a bit abt tagalog and a part of herself. she never tried to learn more other than that until she went back to listen to them when she was in highschool. he also listens to many songs u hear when you're on a jeep (jeep as in pinoy jeep, search it up.) if you've been on a jeep in the philippines then u probably know what i mean. (if u dont, then just imagine hiphop(?)/rap music)

her father keeps track w the latest opm (original pinoy music if u didn't know what that meant) artists and shows it to kyoko who gives them a listen a ton. both of them sometimes sing a long w songs heheh (kyoko tries her best, but her father can keep up pretty easily since he knew it ever since he was born)

kyoko's mom knows a few tagalog phrases thanks to her husband and can hold short conversations w him in tagalog. (it cant go very far though, so they mostly speak in japanese) she sometimes makes filipino food so her husband can remember his roots and so kyoko can learn more of it :D (SHE IS AN ADOBO OR MAYBE EVEN A MENUDO GIRL. SHE ALSO LIKES PANCIT PALABOK AND SISIG.)

kyoko accidentally responds in tagalog sometimes. shinobu will say something to her while making music and she would reply w 'sige, subukin mo yan' (translation: sure, try that) and she would be confused, because of this shinobu knows a few tagalog phrases. yuka and esora does too.

kyoko will always, and i mean always, use 'po' when talking to people older than her in tagalog, she talks to dalia (I WILL TALK ABT HER ANOTHER TIME) and she would always reply w 'po' or 'ate' (pronounced a-teh, not eat past tense) in the sentence. she sometimes accidentally does this w others. (she said 'ate tsubaki' once and tsubaki was just confused while she was embarassed.)

that's all the headcanons i can spit out for now but. yeah. kyoko half-filipino headcanons. do u understand?

#crow talks #d4dj #d4dj groovy mix #kyoko yamate #i may or may not have hung out w a few filipino people while i was away.....#kyoko my dalagang pilipina bc yes #i would talk more abt dalia but i need to think more on that bc that would involve me crying abt not being able to be w a few stuff/people-#in the philippines.#i am still not yet ready to talk in depth abt some stuff from there bc i would tear up as i type lol #especially since my half-filipino dalia headcanons are more personal than kyoko's...#(my mother is a dancer and i headcanon dalia's mom a dancer that knows a ton of traditional filipino dances so. yeah.)#it's going to be a bit difficult for dalia's haha....#i expect no one to see this cause this is sooooo self-indulgent lmao

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 5 months

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aw, look at him 🥺

Finally, FINALLY Jamil can actually relax for once (especially after his own hometown event got him saddled with even more work than he was originally anticipating) 😭 God knows he deserves a break... It's so refreshing to see Jamil not stressing and enjoying himself! The cozy sweater and a genuine smile and squishy cheeks suit him well. A nice touch is that you can see a lot of Harveston cuisine also featured in the artwork: fresh picked apples, a stew cooked in the fireplace, mini apple pies, what seems to be dumplings (I don't remember these being mentioned in the event, so it's possible that these are something else entirely), and, of course, the sandwich cake. jhabdktaveie7teagvyiqt If the Jamil groovy has no vignettes to explain it, I have to wonder how and why this was taken BUT IT'S OKAY, AS LONG AS HE'S HAVING FUN

The plushie he uses in combat seems to be a deer...? Which I guess suits his skill and grace as a dancer. The innocence of a deer though, I don't know if I would equate that to Jamil 😅

Side note: omg, I'm a seer/j I predicted that Jamil would get his outfit from Jade and that's confirmed in his new card's voice lines.

#twst #twisted wonderland #Jamil Viper #disney twisted wonderland #disney twst #notes from the writing raven #spoilers #Jade Leech

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vendetta-if · 6 months

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Hello, hi. This is my first day in actual Tumblr society and I wanted to make a good impression by going out and about the neighborhood. If this question doesn’t disturb your day, or the rest of the week forward, who are the best dancers among your cast?

Oohh 👀😁 I’ve never thought about this but I can already see the best dancer ranking 😂 This is not really a rigid and definite ranking and some have smaller gaps between them than the others.

From best to worst:

Skylar, Viktor, Takashi

From solo dance to romantic slow dance, they’ve got the moves—and confidence 🤭 They would be the type to dance without shame in dance clubs. Also, they would either know a bit from different types of dances or would be a fast learner if they need to learn a new one. They’re just groovy like that 😎

Rin and Azami

Rin specializes in waltz-type of dance while Azami, their mom, used to learn some types of Nihon-buyō (classical Japanese dance whose purposes are for art and performance) when she was younger and a little bit of waltz as well to round up her whole interest in music.

Yvette and Cara

Not as good as those above, but not bad as well. It nit be too hard for them to learn if they ever wanted to (they don’t 😆).

Yvette, especially, has the grace and fluidity of the motion belonging to a dancer’s, but not really the confidence because she keeps thinking she’s bad at dancing or that people will judge her if she makes a mistake and becomes the laughing stock of the city.

Cara, on the other hand, has the confidence and energy but don’t expect her to pull sick moves 😂 But she doesn’t care if her dance is a little bit awkward or even goofy sometimes, and she usually doesn’t mind if her family and friends laugh at her silly dance. She’s like the class joker type and enjoys making her loved ones laugh.

Santana

Not really big fan of dancing usually, but will enjoy just slow dancing casually with a partner, swaying side to side to the beat of the song. But that’s as far as their dancing skill goes 😭

Grandpa & Grandma

Similar to Santana, they just enjoy slow dancing with each other in private on rare occasions, especially as they grow older and fall in love with each other more and more 🥺 Trying to experience the romantic moments that the younger them missed or didn’t have the chance to do.

Ash, Luka, Jackal

Stiff as a board in actual dancing but excels in a dance of death, violence, and destruction—if that counts 🤣. Below are some exaggerated examples of how they might look like trying to do some trending moves 😭

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ferie-anon · 1 year

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🧩Astro • Observations🧩

🎧 People with uranus in 6th may have unexpected health problems relating to their stomach. Since 6th house is the house ruled by virgo which virgo rules digestive system, uranus can cause unexpected health problems related to ur stomach 🫠 eg. I have a sensitive stomach due to the prominence of my virgo placements (having virgo moon, rising, and venus) and having uranus in 6th also, I sometimes get stomachaches or stomach cramps unexpectedly.

🎧 If you have a planet conjunct to your ascendant, people may mistaken or guess your sun sign as the sign of that planet conjunct to your ascendant. For ex: I have moon conjunct ascendant and sometimes people guess I’m a cancer sun which is the sign that is ruled by the moon.

🎧 Water rising signs often attracts attention for their style or are seen as magnetic to others. Scorpio risings often have an edgy, sad girl/sad boy aesthetic, grunge, or skater look, they may have a charismatic or fierce look to their eyes (almond shaped). Eg. Lana del rey and Sydney Sweeney has scorpio rising. Pisces risings have a sleepy ethereal look with round soft eyes, interchangeable unique style while maintaining a dreamy vibe. Cancer risings styles fall with the sweetheart, gentleman, and elegant look. They may look younger than they are physically.

🎧 Sag mars may have an athletic figure or fit figure, these people tend to take hobbies and interests that are related to movement, whether its playing sports or dancing etc.

Additionally I notice sag mars and pisces mars make for very groovy and good dancers, they’re able to catch the flow and movement - Eg. Winwin from Nct has sag mars and Ten has pisces mars, Chaeryeong from Itzy has sag mars and Yuna from the same group has pisces mars (these idols are known for their dancing skills)

🎧 The stereotypes regarding Tauruses liking food isn’t true all the time but it is notable that taurus placements have a certain relationship with food, whether they diet or use food as comfort. Audrey Hepburn was a taurus sun but she always maintained a slim figure thru strict diet for her roles and career, but also ate healthily when she allowed herself to.

🎧 Virgo suns with cancer placements in the kpop industry are admired for their visuals, they can be chic, elegant, cute, cool etc. They may be good at modeling as well, knowing how to pose and express their different looks and vibes thru their eyes and etc. Eg. Joy from Red velvet and Wonyoung from Ive. Additionally, if they have cancer venus with Virgo sun, it may tie to how others are attracted and appealed to their energy, virgo + cancer = put together, elegant, magnetic, always looking stylish in a sense.

🎧 Mutable sign energy(sag, virgo, gemini) + mercury energy (gemini, 3rd house, virgo, 6th house) = rambling on and on about a topic or their thoughts. I have a friend who is a gemini sun and virgo moon, he rambles on to try to get the words/phrase right or his thoughts out, and he just keeps chatting on while you're clearly concerned if he should take a breath and pause. I have another friend who is a sag moon with mercury in 3rd house and she rambles on but instead messes up the words a lot and when she's texting she has so many typos lol.

Sag + gemini energy in the chart makes them chaotically energetic when they're passionate about a topic when with friends. Gemini + virgo energy makes for an interesting conversation that touches on different topics in one sitting and it's neverending. And my virgo moon and 1st house stellium is here for it.

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temptress-writes · 1 year

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🪩 Disco Snow

A/N: soft, groovy seventies Harry.

C.W: DRUG USE. Just my usual nasty shit. Rough, spanking, choking, drug use, spit kink.

Word Count—6.8k

Enjoy x

* * *

Miami 1977.

Chemicals.

Blow.

Tangy, burning, and exciting.

They infiltrate your mind as you bend over the marble countertop in your kitchen.

You slowly come to a stand, wiping your left nostril. You feel your nose tingle and seep into a numbness you know will soon mirror in your throat.

Amber gently bumps your hip, taking the rolled-up bill from your fingers and smoothing out the line of powder laid out for her. She snorts it with a sigh of relief, straightening and flicking a smile your way.

"Feels groovy, huh?"

You roll your head back with a grin, feeling the buzz in your veins already. "So good."

"Let's go, disco chic!"

Miami. A bustling city with a nightlife that thrills you. A deep contrast to the person you are during more acceptable hours.

For tonight, you switched out your sleepwear for your favourite orange bell-sleeved mini dress. Your feet are settled into your white knee-high platform boots.

Amber's done your makeup in hues of emerald green, and orange lipstick to match your attire. She fiddles with the hem of her blue mini dress as you hail a cab to the curb and set on your way to the club.

The Hall of Mirrors.

A club infamous for its disco music, great alcohol, and acceptance for anyone. It's where you frequently go to have a good night, much like most in the city. It's where anyone of any sex could go and rely on the building to hold their secrets. Withhold judgment.

The Hall of Mirrors is no stranger to your secrets. To your nights of sneaking down dark hallways and slipping to your knees for a man, or into a supply closet to taste a woman on your mouth. Tripped out on pills or lines of snow.

The music calls to you before you even go in. The bouncer knows you well, allowing you entry without so much as a second glance. The club is packed, which isn't unusual. The collection of disco balls hang from the ceiling, the strobe lights reflecting tiny fragments of light from them. They bounce across every inch of skin, every section of the walls. The pattern heightens your sense of lucidity, red, pink, and purple semi-circular wallpaper that you know will begin to distort as the night progresses.

And as if you need a reminder of how much you're dying for a drink, you taste the stark sugar slipping down your throat. With a grimace at the strong taste of it, you pull Amber to the bar.

Cameron, one of the bartenders, waves at you, mouthing your usual? You nod, pleased when she places two gin and tonics on the bar top in front of you and Amber.

It's all feels like a blur. It always does during the buildup. The drive to the club, the quenching of thirst with gin. The night doesn't truly start until you're on the dance floor.

"Bottoms up, chic!" Amber yells over the bass of the music.

You cheer your glasses together and down the contents. The ice clinks against your teeth, but your gums are so numb you barely feel it.

"Let's show these bitches who own the dance floor!"

The two of you squish and squeeze past dancers to get to the middle, soon finding a rhythm along to The Hustle. Unashamed, you yell out the words, swaying and throwing your best moves her way.

You can feel the effects start to energise your body. The way it seems to make you feel unstoppable, sexy, otherworldly.

You wrap your arms around Amber's neck, letting her turn in your hold and rub against you. In any other setting, this would harbour attention from others that one could only deem as judgmental. But not here. Not in the Hall of Mirrors. Here you are free and open.

It's a sensation of effortlessness. You feel limitless. One with the music, one with every soul in the building. After a parade of songs, you and Amber pull away from the dance floor and slip into the bathroom, refreshing the buzzing high in your veins before heading back out.

And then you see him. It's an eerie sort of feeling. It's a dance floor, it doesn't necessarily have the best lighting and there are so many people. But it's almost as if you're meant to see him. A flash of light illuminates his existence momentarily before the strobe fades away and appears elsewhere.

What you notice first are curls. Dripping waves parted in the middle of his head that spiral along his forehead, sticking to the skin with perspiration. A jeweled hand comes up to brush them away from his vision before he erupts in a dimpled smile at his friend. Even from here, you can make out the shape of his bunny teeth.

And then he spins in a circle and throws some finger guns. From there, your exploration veers south. A low-cut black tank top, exposing two swallows fluttering their wings against his chest, a cross pendant nestled safely between them.

His broad shoulders sport more ink and your eyes dart across every bare inch of skin and you spot a smattering of tattoos along his arms.

As if to contrast his more intimidating attire, from the hips down is bubblegum pink. Flared pants that hug his hips and accentuate the length of his legs. He lifts his leg, the bell-bottoms sharing a glimpse of his footwear. Patent black leather books with an impressive heel. Already so tall and towering, you admire how he's wearing them as a fashion statement and nothing more.

He holds his friend's hands, arching them high in the air before swirling his hips and yelling along to the song. His friend, lanky and shaggy-haired, pulls away and gives his best shot at the robot.

Amber clicks her fingers in front of you. "You good?"

You blink, steering your vision away from him and back to her. "Yeah, buzzing now!"

And you dance like no one is watching. You try to drive your attention away from the man who clearly hasn't seen you.

Sweaty. Hot. Snow.

Your body feels like a live wire, the music thrumming in your veins.

Your feet are throbbing but you don't care. Your vision floats back to the man and a sense of delight washes over you at the sight of him. He's closer to you now, bumping his hips to the song. Your brows raise when he grinds his bum up against a man's crotch.

Amber doesn't question when you inch towards him. It's subtle, and you keep dancing and swaying and singing.

You look up at him again and every cell in your body freezes. He's looking at you. And there's this moment when your eyes lock that the music fades. Like a bubble encases you and almost mutes it. It's very brief but still so staggering.

Suddenly, you're all bubblegum and curls.

His lips curl up into a devastatingly beautiful smile at you. He's still dancing, you're still dancing. But you're smiling at each other and suddenly bubblegum flares and chocolate curls are moving towards you. He slips past people and your dancing doesn't slow as he approaches.

Amber, so out of it and not picking up on the interaction, leeches to a man next to her and swirls her hips against him.

Up close, the man is even more stunning. Your eye line is at his chest and you spy a light dusting of hair and a film of sweat.

He grins down at you and your cheeks blush bubblegum.

"Who can do the best sprinkler?" He asks you, having to yell over the music. His accent is deep and wispy. Of course, the man with one of the most daring outfits in the joint would be British.

"Oh, it's definitely me." You offer with a sultry smile.

"Confident..." He nods, resting his hands on his hips. "I like that."

"What, you think you can out-dance me?"

He throws you a playful glare, waiting for the chorus of the song to drop before throwing his arm around in a sprinkler movement. His other hand around his head while the sprinkler, jeweled fingers, splay towards you.

And you can't help but giggle, hiding it behind your hand but the glint in your eyes is far too telling. His expression of pure joy dropping into one of unamused horror.

"Let's see it then, foxy."

You laugh, shaking your limbs out and showing off your best sprinkler move. He sticks his fingers in his mouth and whistles loudly. You wrinkle your nose and shrug your shoulders up at the piercing sound.

"We have a winner!" He shouts, hands waving through the air and alarming a few people around you. You lightly shove at his chest, your cheeks hurting from laughing so much. "Does the sprinkler queen have a name? The people need to know."

You feel very shy, suddenly. As if the influence of the power has been overshadowed by him. You give him your name, not missing the way his lips curl around the letters as he recites it to you.

"'M Harry."

Harry. Smooth. Bubblegum.

"It's nice to meet you."

His fingers come up to toy with the flared sleeve of your dress. "Love the threads."

You gesture to his pink pants. "Yours, too."

He clicks his tongue, grabs your hand, and spins you in a circle. "You flatter me. Let's throw some shapes, foxy lady!"

You grab his hands, encouraging him to shimmy with you. He's a great dancer. Tall and unashamed, moving his body without thought and doing the most ridiculous dance moves. You feel so hot and you're not sure if it's because of him, the dance floor, or the snow you snorted before.

Harry spins on his heels, forming peace signs with his fingers and waving them in front of his eyes. You mirror him with a grin and he admires the way the disco ball reflects off your face and ignites your beauty. He feels like he's been kicked in the chest. What started as a chill night out and a boogie became so much more once he saw you.

Your orange dress, tangerine and inviting. Your green eyeshadow, an exotic lagoon he's lost in.

He brings you closer, pressing you flush against his body and moving his hips with yours. His hands squeeze at your hips and if this were any other man, you'd be slapping his touch away.

But Harry is soft and colourful. Endlessly endearing. You can tell he's confident and sure of himself and that's probably the sexiest thing about him. Aside from his bare chest and tattoos. And his hair. And his smile.

"You skiing the snow tonight, little fox?"

You nod, your head feeling like a bobblehead on your neck. Your spine is tingling and the way he's looking at you is making every limb feel like jelly.

He grips the side of your neck, holding you close and resting his forehead on yours. It happens so quickly but he's so confident and you're so comfortable so you don't mind.

"Keep a lookout, yeah?"

You give him another nod. You're always so sure of yourself and now this one particular stranger is leaving you speechless. But what else can you say?

He slips his fingers into his tight tanktop to produce a small clear bag from the confines. He wiggles his brows at you and looks around you briefly before opening it up.

It's unlikely anyone would be sober enough to cause a problem with it. But he's more avoiding drawing attention to it because people will flock to him for a hit.

He thumbs the bag open, his eyes lifting to meet yours before he throws you a wink. Lifting the pendant sat between his defined pecs, he gathers a small mound of snow on the longest bar of the cross.

"Ladies first."

The chain being around his neck means he can only bring it so far to you. You lean forward, pressed right up against him, and nudge your face up so you can snort the prepared powder.

You sigh through a smile as it seeps into your bloodstream. It refreshes your high. Your energy unmatched as you start to dance to the music again. But this time it's right up against him, his core tucked up against you. Bubblegum and snow.

His hand reaches out to wipe a bit of excess power decorating the edge of your nose with a soft giggle. He gathers his own smidgen of power and snorts it before putting the bag away.

And then you're dancing. Your ass works in sweet little circles against his crotch and you rest your head back on his chest, looking up at him to let him know. Let him know that you feel him against you, growing for you.

Hard bubblegum.

Melting snow.

He twirls you, bringing his hands onto your shoulders and using his feet to find a beat with the music. More Than a Woman starts playing and you both let out excited yells. He pulls you into him again. He can't help but spin you so your ass is against him. He wraps his arms around you, your hands tangling with his where they meet at your chest.

When you start grinding back on him, his hands melt down to your hips to roll them back. Gooey bubblegum.

You watch him, his hair parted in the middle with curls falling down his forehead. He smiles down at you, a slow, lip curling, dimple encased smile. It's earth-shatteringly beautiful and when he licks his lips, you feel it resonate directly between your thighs.

His hand comes up, running up your sternum and to your throat. He can feel your heart beating under the skin, fluttering just as severely as his is. His fingers grip your chin and he leans down. His nose brushes yours and your ass presses deliciously firm against his crotch and then you really feel him.

Your eyes flicker from his, down the strong line of his nose and to his lips. Bubblegum pink, plump, and inviting.

He lets out a soft moan and then he's kissing you. It's soft at first as if gauging your reaction. Maybe he's seeing how you like it. If you want it rushed. If you want it slow and patient and controlled.

Your hand wraps around his neck to hold him there and you open your mouth to flick your tongue against his lower lip. His comes out to meet yours and he tastes phenomenal. Like vodka and cranberry juice and lust.

Harry turns you in his hold and grips your ass in two strong hands. He hauls you upwards until your center is against his. He's hard and even through his pants, you can feel the impressive size of him.

The chorus seems to mirror the newly found excitement in two souls. Climaxing and exciting. You're dancing as if it's your love language. Melting into one person and obsessed with how his body feels against yours.

You can't help but kiss him again, obsessed with the way his lips cradle your bottom one. The way he nibbles on it a little bit. The way he moans against you and screws his hips up to you.

Your eyes open to meet his and over his shoulder, you can see Amber giving you an enthusiastic thumbs up.

His finger comes up to brush your lower lip before he kisses you again with a needy hum. You're not even thinking when you grab his hand and pull him towards the bathroom. You only register his warmth and his arousal and how you want to be closer to it.

He can sense your urgency, and you're both high as shit, two pairs of boots clicking against the floor. You're giggling messes of arousal as you lure him towards the bathrooms and try to find an empty one. There's a powder room, which seems all too fitting. It's deep mint green, luxurious for such a small space. The walls are orange swirls that wave in your vision.

You drag him in and close the door, automatically flipping the lock but he raises a brow when you unlock it again. His curls are askew, your orange lipstick in smudges on and around his mouth.

"Risky move, little fox."

"Shut up."

You're kissing him again. You press him up against the sink, his dick hard against you. He moans as you suck on his tongue and pull him as close as you can get him. His arms wrap around you, his hands fisting the material of your dress at the small of your back. It lifts, scrunching up and exposing your ass.

He grips the bare skin on his hands, rolling your center up against his. His fingers dip between your cheeks, slipping forward until he's brushing your clothed cunt with his fingertips.

You release a soft whimper and roll your warmth along his touch. You're already so wet, you can tell. And so can he.

But before he can explore any further, you're dropping to your knees. Harry swears under his breath as you palm him through his bubblegum pants, so hard and ready for you. You stare up at him, his pupils dilated from the snow and from you.

You pop the single button and pull the zipper down, suddenly not feeling very patient. Your attempt to inch them down so you can play with him further is stunted.

"These are so tight."

He offers a sweet little laugh into the air, pulling his pants down for you, his rings clinking as he does so.

When you finally set your eyes on him, it's then that you feel intimidated for the first time. He's not wearing underwear and for some reason, that alone is already so fucking hot. He's huge. In every aspect. In width, in length. The tip of him is the same colour of his lips, a rosy hue deepening the more turned on he's getting.

You slide forward, wrapping your hand around him. He's silky, smooth, and hot in your palm. You drag your fist up, a drop of pre-come pearling at the tip. You flick your tongue out against it, tasting the saltiness on your taste buds.

Harry groans at the sight of you on your knees for him. He bends down, cupping your chin and angling you up so he can kiss you. He tastes himself on your tongue and he spreads his hand along your cheek, rubbing it with his thumb.

"Keep going."

His expression is one of lustful encouragement as he straightens and you envelop the head in your mouth with a suck. You use your hand to work the skin, spreading the wetness from your mouth down his shaft.

You take him deeper, allowing yourself to become fully immersed in pleasing him. His hand tangles in your hair, guiding your mouth up and down his shaft.

He moans, deep and dirty and you feel it between your legs. He emits a soft sigh as you take him fully, your nose pressed against his abdomen. You can feel the hair there tickle your skin and you retract and start bobbing against him.

The bass of the music conceals the questionable sounds you're making and Harry's hand tightens in your hair as you work him. He rolls his head back on his neck, feeling the tingling in his spine sharpen and bridge out to every limb, every nerve.

Your mouth is searing hot and wet around him, your tongue caressing the underside of his dick. You struggle around the fullness of him but the way he's looking at you spurs you on. He feels amazing, the way he guides you, pushes you further but never past your unspoken boundaries.

You hold him in the back of your throat and the sound he gives you is almost a growl. It's low, derived from his chest and so fucking desperate. Using his hold on your hair, he pulls you back. You've made a mess of him and yourself. Orange lipstick smudges and your spit.

"Come here, little fox."

You stand, stumbling a little in your heels but he spins you and sits you on the countertop. Your dress slips high up your thighs and he squeezes at them. His touch slides higher and he hisses as he meets the lace of your panties.

Your hand comes down to meet his, encouraging it higher. Closer to where you need him. Harry kisses you, one hand on the side of your neck, the other up your dress.

And suddenly, it's like neither of you can wait anymore. You pull him towards you as he slips your panties down your legs, hanging from one ankle. His kisses move from your lips, a messy trail down your chin, your neck, the swell of your breasts.

Then he's kneeling in front of you, his gaze on yours before it slowly slips between your legs. You're saturated for him and his staring is so fucking intimate. He can't wait to taste you, to feel you.

His hand raises, his thumb brushing your clit. Your thighs tense as he rubs slow circles like he's winding you up. His thumb ventures south and parts your folds, collecting your wetness there and dragging it back up to your clit.

You let out a soft whimper as his pressure deepens. The added moisture from your arousal feeling somehow sweeter in addition to how he's touching you.

"Pretty thing." He coos, looking back up at you.

He withdraws his thumb and sucks it into his mouth with a hum. Without breaking eye contact, he lowers his head and flicks his tongue ever so gently against your sensitive clit.

You sway your hips up at the slight bit of attention, already desperate for more. He licks up your slit, fully tasting you and closing on your clit in a kiss. You gasp and take a fistful of his hair as he works your cunt with his mouth.

He moves lower, tonguing your entrance and slipping it inside of you while his nose buries itself against your clit.

He shakes his head from side to side, fully absorbed in you. He eats you out so intensely. An enthusiasm you've ever felt from another partner. You look down and his eyes are closed, fully enjoying his head between your legs where he's tasting you.

You pull his hair harder and he moans, the vibrations from it sent throughout your lower half.

Harry raises a finger to his mouth, sucking it past his lips to get it nice and wet. And then he slides it inside of you, flicking it up in a hook to press against your g-spot. Your spine straightens at the sensation, and he slips another finger alongside it. You whine out his name as he pulls the tips of his fingers along your sweet spot, pulsing them and building you up to your release.

He moves his whole arm with blinding speed, the pleasure increasing rapidly. No one has ever made you feel this way, a bliss so deep. He knows exactly what he's doing and he knows how insanely good he's got you.

He looks up at you and gives you the cockiest smirk before sucking on your clit. His teeth nibble on it gently before he traps it between them and flicks his tongue along it. You throw your head back, collapsing against the mirror.

Harry pulls you up, spinning you so you're bent over the counter with your ass perked back. He eats you this way, spreading you open to him and pressing his mouth tight against you. His nose is buried inside you, his tongue against your clit again and he slaps your ass. It's a mild slap but you moan nonetheless.

"Again." You gasp out, so close to coming and addicted to him.

"You're a dirty little fox, aren't you?" He spanks you again. Harder.

You turn and look at him. "Is that all you got?"

He breaths out a laugh and buries his face against your cunt once more, spanking the opposite cheek, hard. And then your lower thigh, right below your ass. The sting is softened by how beautiful his mouth is against you. He finds your clit again to drill his tongue on it.

"I'm close," You reach back, taking a fistful of curls and hold him there.

"That's it," He coos against you. "Come all over my face."

Your orgasm is an eruption of euphoria. Searing hot pink that melts into bubblegum pop. You cry out his name, your entire body going lax against the counter as you fucking shake.

His mouth never lets up, letting you ride through the pleasure of your orgasm. His mouth is slow to leave you as you come down, his lips kissing the skin of your ass.

You're not expecting it when his hands leave your ass all too quickly. You watch him in the mirror as he retrieves his little bag.

"Stay still." He orders. He taps powder onto your ass, right over a handprint he's left. He ensures the line is relatively straight with his finger, one that he soon after gives you to suck the powder off. And he snorts the line he's prepared, licking the residue off your ass with a devilish smile.

And, for good measure, he slaps you again.

You bite your lip to stifle a giggle, reaching back and wrapping your hand around his dick. You work his shaft and he staggers in a couple of steps closer. The tip of him nudges your ass, his pre-come kissing your skin and leaving it wet.

He moans, moving to grip your hips and fully standing behind you. His cock brushes between your legs and you whimper at the anticipation of feeling him even more.

"You want me to fuck you, sweet fox?"

"Yes,"

"Where are your manners?" He's teasing you now. You both know there's no way he's not fucking you.

He's just making you simmer in the heat he's stirred up.

"Please fuck me, Harry."

He loves how your name sounds leaving your mouth. Orange painted lips caressing each letter, sweet and fiery at once.

"There's a good girl."

You feel his tip slide between your folds, he dips his knees to adjust his angle. One hand around his shaft to guide it, the other on your hip with a grip that almost too tight. He takes a step forward, glides his hips forward. And it's pure ecstasy.

The way he stretches you is heavenly. It's a low, humming burn almost. A buzzing delight of feeling so full. He's so big and thick, tucked right up against your g-spot. It feels so fucking good and he hasn't even moved yet.

You release a hefty gasp as he moans out your name at the feel of you.

His other hand wraps itself in your hair to keep you looking at him in the mirror and then he's fucking you. His thrusts are delicious. He's fluid, like rolling waves to shatter a galaxy inside of you.

Your eyes meet his in the mirror and he gives you a slow smile before slapping the skin of your ass again. Before you can even cry out at the stinging sensation, he's fucking you so hard you have to bring a hand up to the mirror to balance yourself.

He settles behind you, his lips at your ear. Two sets of breath fog the glass of the mirror.

"That's it, watch me while I destroy this pussy."

The Hall of Mirrors. A second home to you, reflective and encasing. Now you're watching this man fucking destroy you in the bathroom mirror. Your pupils are dilated, much like his are. Black holes, targeting each other and threatening to consume each other.

He wraps his hand around your throat and screws his dick deep, massaging your g-spot so perfectly. You're sure that without the stability of the counter holding you up, you'd be a quivering pile of bones on the floor.

"Fuck, and you thought my pants were tight?" He smirks at you in the mirror.

You release a breathless laugh that's swept away when he starts pounding into you. He grunts with every thrust, taking you so hard you can barely breathe. His skin slaps against yours and he squeezes his hand around your throat to hold you still.

The snow is heightening every sense you have. Your ass is stinging more than normal, your arousal higher than normal. But you know that has more to do with him than narcotics. And when his other hand reaches around to rub your clit, you feel that so strongly that you cry out his name and fucking writhe underneath him.

"Take it, little fox. Take it like the good fucking girl you are."

He moves his hips more sharply, hitting that sweet spot inside of you. He pushes one of your legs up onto the counter and he's so much deeper that way. That in combination with the way he's playing your clit is driving you mental. You're so close and he can feel it, feel your walls tremble and tighten around him.

You're gasping out his name, helpless to how relentlessly he's fucking you. He growls as you clench around his dick, his hand on your throat slipping up so he can put two of his fingers in your mouth. You suck on them gratefully, using your teeth to show him how good he's fucking you.

You're so fucking close but he does the unthinkable... he pulls away. Completely. Leaving you empty and teetering on the edge, yanking you back abruptly.

He doesn't give you a second to question him before he's spinning you around and sitting you up on the counter. He steps forward and you scoot towards him, wrapping your legs around his waist.

Your hand takes his shaft once more, pulling the skin in a firm first. He moans and lulls his forehead against yours.

"I was so close." You pout hotly against his lips.

"I'll get you there again," He hums, grabbing the base of his dick and running the tip of it between your saturated folds. "Is this what you want?"

"Please," You lean forward and kiss him. His length nudges your entrance but he makes no move to do anything further. "Give me your cock."

"That's what I want to hear."

He smiles, wrapping his hand around your throat again and sliding inside of you with one smooth movement of his hips. Your mouth drops open at the fullness of him. He's so much deeper this way, and so much more intimate with the way he's staring at you.

"Fuck me, Harry. Hard."

He releases another moan, this one more of a growl, and starts fucking you again. Using his hold around your throat and another hand on your hip. He leans you back a little so he can fully enjoy the display of your body and watch where he's fucking you.

He brings your head forward by your throat, your mouth opening at the force and he takes the chance to spit in your mouth.

"Get your clit for me while I fuck this pretty little cunt."

You whimper, sticking your fingertips into your mouth to get them wet with your spit as well as his. And with a shaking hand, reach down with and rub your clit. You feel the bursts of your orgasm brewing, your walls quivering around him.

It's building quickly and you kiss him again, feeling them tingle in your toes with every brush of his tongue. The door behind him starts to open, a drunk man slurring his words behind it. Harry slams it shut while your hand flies from your clit.

"Ocupado!" Harry yells out, his hips faltering momentarily as he locks the door.

Your cheeks heat at the prospect of someone walking in and seeing you this way. A little in embarrassment, a little in excitement.

Harry senses that you're thrown off and fucks your harder, his fingers finding your clit. "Don't worry about him, sweet little fox. You're so close, let's get you there. I can fucking feel it."

You cry out as he destroys you from the inside out, working you into a pleasured frenzy. His hand pulls the top of your dress down over your tits and they spill out. He squeezes them, pulling at your nipples and biting them.

"Harry, oh my god-"

"That's it, come for me." He growls. "Put me away wet."

Your orgasm rolls through you intensely, staggering. Your hands claw at Harry's shoulders as you shake uncontrollably. His dick is unrelenting inside of you, his fingertips not letting up in the delicious patterns against your clit.

"Fucking shit." He marvels over how you feel, how tight and amazing you feel. He's so fucking turned on by you and his hips keep screwing against you.

You wrap your arms around him, burying your face into his neck and biting the skin there. He smells amazing. Like he's been dancing in a pool of vanilla and lavender all night. As you come down from your climax, you retract and watch where he's fucking you.

"Dreamy little cunt," He babbles, so out of it. "get so wet and tight when you come, don't you?"

"Only for you." You coo, kissing him again. He's already far better than any sexual partner you've ever had. Your walls are still trembling around him and every single tremor sends him closer to his end.

"I'm gonna come so hard- shit, you feel so good."

"I want you to come, Harry."

"Yeah?"

"Yes, I want you to feel as good as I do."

He smiles at you, dimples galore, his cheeks as pink as his pants. And then he pins you to the counter by your throat, spreading you back until you're pressed against the mirror. He starts fucking you harder, messier as his cock throbs inside of you.

"Stunning little fox, so fucking perfect. Dancing in this tiny little dress," His hands grip at your breasts some more.

"Harry-"

"Grinding your ass against me, getting me hard for you. Dirty girl, fuck. You own me."

He's working himself up now, his hand tightening around your throat and forcing you to keep looking at him. He's spouting out filthy words into the air between you, unashamed and doing so much for you. You can't help but reach down and play your clit again.

He gives you a laugh, one almost of disbelief. "You like when I talk to you, hm?"

"So much."

"You gonna let me fuck you again, sweet little thing?"

"You can fuck me whenever you want." Because you both know this is the beginning of something new and exciting.

That sets him off. His orgasm blooms and spreads. Pops like a bubble of gum. He pulls out, working his hand on his shaft so fast it's a blur. You move your hand and watch him in awe. He comes directly on your pussy, mouthing dirty words and breathless moans. His other hand gripping your thigh so hard you know it will bruise.

He watches where he's painted you, his come dripping on your lower abdomen, along your clit and your folds. He's a mess, breathing heavily and working the rest of his high from his length.

Thoughtless, he crouches and licks his orgasm from your skin. You moan as he kisses you there, licking every ounce of his come in his mouth. His tongue teases your clit and your thighs jump at the sensitivity.

He stands, cloudy and slow. And he grips your chin harshly, forcing you to open your mouth. As soon as you do, he's spitting heavily into it.

"Don't swallow."

As you fully taste his come on your tongue, he's kissing you. You moan, tasting his orgasm with yours, his tongue with yours. It's so dirty and unhinged but you can't help but feel fucking feral for him over it.

"Good girl." He praises as he pulls away.

He rights his attire, his movements lagged. Like the only thing he can fathom is you and everything else is a chore.

You stare at him, your panties hanging from one ankle, your pussy glistening and spent from him. Bubblegum obsessed. Chocolate curls addicted.

"Gorgeous little fox. Should we ditch this joint and head back to mine?"

You sit up and throw your arms around his neck and kiss him. "Yes, please."

"I want to enjoy you properly." He sighs against your mouth. "Get you out of this dress. Spread you along my sheets, watch your tits bounce while you ride me."

You breathe out a soft whimper at the idea of continuing this for the rest of the night. "I love the sound of that."

He kisses you, deep and wet. "Make you come until I'm dripping in you."

His length, returned to the confines of his pants once more, twitches against your thigh.

"We need to actually leave this room for that to happen." You muse.

He lets out a loud cackle, cupping the back of your neck to draw you towards him. He helps you fix your dress, your panties stripping from your foot and you raise a brow as he tucks them into the back pocket of his pants.

"Didn't know you'd have much room for anything else in those."

"That cheeky mouth is why you're not getting your panties back."

After another round of kisses, the two of you emerge from the room. And while you're both giddy with excitement from what has happened and what else the night holds, no one else in the club bats an eye. Your underwear feels heavy and scandalous in his pocket as he guides you through the crowded dance floor, both of your hands wrapped around one of his.

Thanks to his already tall frame, and heels, he locates his friend quickly. Who is chatting to Amber. You raise a brow at her with a cheeky smile at the sight of them dancing together.

Harry's friend holds his hand out to you, "Mitch!"

You shake his hand and introduce yourself, projecting your voice over the music. You turn to Amber. "We're going to head off, are you okay here?"

She nods frantically. "Honey, I'm so okay!"

Mitch and Harry exchange smirks and hug goodbye.

"Peace, love, and granola, Mitch!"

The air of Miami cools your skin as you step out onto the curb. Harry lags behind, admiring the curve of you and the skin the low hem of your dress offers. He grabs your hand and spins you in a little circle before giving an ear-piercing whistle to hail a cab.

He's all over you in the back of the car. His lips going from yours down your neck, the swell of your breasts. The hem of your dress hitched up, your legs slung over his lap as he fucking devours you. Savours you. Ravishes you.

His apartment, much like his attire is bold, bright, and brave. Warm oranges and reds. Like a sunset on fire, or the heated and sizzling arousal between you. It cozy and art deco and very much Harry. He offers you a half-assed tour of his home but he's undressing you with his eyes. The silhouette of your dress begging for him to see just how much better you are underneath the material.

And once you reach his bedroom, the large, circular bed is all you can focus on. Mint green bedding. The room itself is impressive, the wall behind the bed sporting what looks like a melted sunset. Orange, pink yellow all mended together to offer an accent. Harry peels off your boots and the yellow shaggy rug is soft against your toes.

He puts a record on to spin, Just One Look playing softly in the air.

Suddenly, you're on your back on the bed. Harry hovers over you, his hand cupping your cheek as if he really can't believe you're real.

Is he tripping on a tab of acid or are you really in front of him? Unbelievably lucid and dreamy. Causing fireworks and sunsets in his tummy.

Your eyeshadow matches his bedsheets, he realizes. Little fox, you're meant to be.

His sheets are crisp and smell of him. The tones of his sheets are similar to the mint green of the powder room as if a continuation of what started in there. Dirty, open, and vulnerable.

Like the disco balls in the Hall of Mirrors, fragments of two glass souls mended together in beautiful unity. Dazzling, luminous. Capturing every fraction of light to reflect it in hues every spectrum can admire.

#harry styles filth #harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #70s #wattpad #harry styles one shot #harry styles smut #hslot #smut

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visit-new-york · 1 year

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Bethesda Terrace, Central Park, New York City, New York.

One of the most iconic and well-known features in Central Park is Bethesda Terrace, a large plaza consisting of two levels as well as an Arcade and a Fountain.

Bethesda Terrace is one of the most iconic and picturesque features of Central Park in New York City. Located in the middle of the park, it serves as both a practical and aesthetic focal point for visitors. Here are some key details about Bethesda Terrace:

Location: Bethesda Terrace is situated in the southern part of Central Park, near 72nd Street and Central Park West. It is easily accessible from various points within the park and is a popular gathering spot for both tourists and locals.

Architectural Design: The terrace was designed by architect Calvert Vaux and was built between 1859 and 1863 as part of the original construction of Central Park. It is a stunning example of the Victorian-era architecture that characterizes much of the park's design.

Features: Bethesda Terrace consists of several noteworthy elements, including:

The Terrace Arcade: This grand, covered walkway features intricate designs and ornate detailing, including intricate tile mosaics and intricate carvings.

The Bethesda Terrace Stairs: The grand staircase connects the upper and lower levels of the terrace and is often used as a backdrop for various performances, photoshoots, and events.

The Central Fountain: At the center of the lower level is the Bethesda Fountain, which is one of the most recognizable features in Central Park. The statue atop the fountain, known as "Angel of the Waters" or simply "Bethesda Angel," was designed by sculptor Emma Stebbins and represents the biblical story of the healing powers of the Bethesda Pool in Jerusalem.

Cultural Significance: Bethesda Terrace has played a significant role in the cultural life of New York City. It has been featured in numerous films, TV shows, and music videos. Additionally, it is a popular spot for musicians, artists, and performers, adding to the vibrant atmosphere of Central Park.

Recreation: Visitors to Bethesda Terrace can enjoy a range of activities, including picnicking, people-watching, and photography. The surrounding area offers beautiful views of the Central Park Lake and the nearby Ramble, making it a popular starting point for exploring the park.

Renovations: Over the years, Bethesda Terrace has undergone several renovations and restorations to maintain its historic beauty and structural integrity. These efforts have helped preserve this beloved landmark for future generations to enjoy.

Literary and Pop Culture Connections: Bethesda Terrace has appeared in numerous literary works, including E.L. Doctorow's novel "Ragtime," where it is featured prominently. Additionally, the terrace has been featured in popular films such as "Home Alone 2: Lost in New York" and in the music video for Simon & Garfunkel's song "Feelin' Groovy (The 59th Street Bridge Song)."

Performances and Events: Bethesda Terrace often hosts a variety of cultural events and performances. Musicians, dancers, and other artists frequently use the terrace as a stage for their acts. The terrace's acoustics, especially beneath the Arcade, make it an attractive venue for impromptu performances.

Central Park Lake: The Bethesda Terrace overlooks the Central Park Lake, which is a popular spot for recreational activities such as rowboating. Visitors can rent rowboats and enjoy a leisurely paddle on the lake while taking in the scenic views.

The Ramble: Located just to the east of Bethesda Terrace is a section of Central Park known as The Ramble. This densely wooded area features winding pathways, rustic bridges, and abundant wildlife. It provides a striking contrast to the formal design of the terrace and is a popular destination for birdwatching and nature enthusiasts.

Central Park Conservancy: The Central Park Conservancy is a non-profit organization responsible for the care, maintenance, and preservation of Central Park's historic features, including Bethesda Terrace. Their efforts ensure that this iconic landmark remains in excellent condition for the enjoyment of all visitors.

Accessibility: Bethesda Terrace is easily accessible by various means of transportation. Visitors can enter Central Park from various points, including subway stations at Columbus Circle and 72nd Street, and then make their way to the terrace on foot.

Overall, Bethesda Terrace in Central Park is not only a testament to the park's rich history and artistic design but also a vibrant hub of cultural and recreational activity in the heart of New York City. Whether you're interested in architecture, art, music, or simply enjoying the outdoors, a visit to Bethesda Terrace is a must when exploring Central Park.

In summary, Bethesda Terrace is a beautifully designed and historically significant architectural feature within Central Park. It offers a tranquil and picturesque setting for visitors to relax, appreciate art and architecture, and immerse themselves in the natural beauty of this urban oasis.

Bethesda Terrace Read more

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folkfashion · 10 months

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Ni-Vanuatu Toka dancers, Vanuatu, by Groovy Banana

#ni vanuatu #vanuatu #nivanuatu #ni-vanuatu #melanesia #oceania #folk clothing #traditional clothing #traditional fashion #cultural clothing

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osiris-iii-bc · 5 months

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Papa’s playlists - music headcanons

Sometimes when I listen to music I mentally associate what I’m listening to the Papas, so I thought it would have been fun to imagine a 10 songs playlist for/of each Papa. I have chosen the songs by their personalities, the kind of music they have done and the general vibes I get when I listen to the songs.

Primo:

I see him sitting on his couch by the fire, immersed in his voluminous, rich vestments. He can listen to the heaviest doom metal tune without moving an inch of his body, fully immersed in understanding the lyrics, but 70s rock always brings back his old memories of when he used to throw small parties in his chamber whenever the Beatles or his favorite bands released a new LP.

The Beatles - Come together

Black Sabbath - Iron Man

Mayhem - Freezing moon

The Rolling Stones - Start me up

Candlemass - Bewitched

Bathory - A fine day to die

Mercyful fate - Evil

The animals - House of the rising sun

Slayer - Seasons in the Abyss

Diamond Head - Am I Evil?

Secondo:

He has two sides: the old-school metalhead and the devoted enthusiast of good old symphonic music. He prepares himself a cigar and settles at his desk, embracing the darkness like the nocturnal creature he is, to work on papers or perhaps write some lyrics inspired by his favorite arias. In his playlist, you can always find something classy followed by something extremely heavy.

Led Zeppelin - Kashmir

Slayer - South of Heaven

Venom - Don’t burn the witch

Giuseppe Verdi - Dies Irae/Tuba Mirum

Deep Purple - Perfect Strangers

King Diamond - The family ghost

The Doors - Riders on the storm

Guns and Roses - Coma

Bobby Vinton - Blue velvet

Antonio Vivaldi - Four Seasons

Terzo:

Ah, Terzo. Whether he's completing his nighttime skincare routine, getting dressed for a mass, preparing for a date, or simply relaxing in his chambers with a good wine, he always has a record playing in the background. He's not a headbanger, but he likes to keep the tempo with his hands. He taps his fingers on his thigh to match the drum tempo of most rhythmic songs or moves his hands softly to the sound of the mellower ones, like when he listens to "Barcelona," adjusting his hand movements based on the virtuosity of the voices.

Candlemass - Well of Souls

The struts - Kiss this

Metallica - Until it sleeps

Metallica - For whom the bell tolls

Kreator - People of the lie

Freddie Mercury feat Montserrat Caballe - Barcelona

David Bowie - Starman

Pentagram - Sign of the wolf

Sepoltura - Dead embryonic cells

Mercyful fate - Witches dance

Copia:

I can totally picture Copia putting on something groovy like "Stuck In The Middle With You" while attempting to cook something, swaying his hips to the rhythm and inevitably either burning whatever is in the pan or creating a mess on the counter by dropping bottles and food.

Alice Cooper - Poison

Iron Maiden - Run to the hills

Steppenwolf - Born to be wild

Dead or Alive - You spin me round

Black Sabbath - Paranoid

Judas Priest - Painkiller

The Rolling Stones - Sympathy for the devil

Stealers wheel - Stuck in the middle with you

The Darkness - Love is only a feeling

Bon Jovi - You give love a bad name

Nihil:

An old-school rocker. He would pick you up in his car with Led Zeppelin playing at full volume, take you to a bar where he puts on your favorite song in the jukebox, and by the time you come back from the toilet, he's kissing some random girl right at the bar counter. He would later apologize, claiming he was just drunk and thought that was you… a red flag you'll ignore.

The Doors - Touch me

Led Zeppelin - Whole lotta love

Elton John - Tiny dancer

Ozzy Osburne - Crazy train

Deep Purple - Child in time

Deep Purple - Hush

Jefferson airplane - White rabbit

Elvis Presley - Suspicious minds

The Rolling Stones - Paint it black

The Beatles - Helter Skelter

#the band ghost #ghost band #ghost headcanons #papa emeritus i #papa emeritus ii #papa emeritus iii #papa emeritus iv #copia #headcanon #the band ghost fanfiction

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lunarmoonanons · 1 year

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The Dragon Princess

🌕 🌖 🌗 🌘 🌑 🌒 🌓 🌔 🌕

Yandere Targaryens

CW: YES there may be some instances of incest. It’s the Targaryens, their family tree is basically a wreath. I’d be Surprised if there wasn’t incest.

Okay? Okay.

Masterlist

I love the mess that is the Targaryens. I love Jaehaerys' family line even more. This current idea fic will be involving them and sweet little dragon princess YN. This is gonna be split into three separate concepts.

Baby YN.

YN is the baby of Jaehaerys’ family. Born in 84 ac she was treasured and highly protected. Most of her siblings were in their teens or adulthoods when she was born, but something in that messy Targaryen blood made them hyperfixate on her immensely. The small dragon.

Middle Child YN

YN was born 2 years after Saera, they are incredibly close and loyal to the other even though YN is obviously more favored by the family due to her being a little more obedient and not as sexual (asexual maybe???). Her older siblings think she’s a sweet kid, her younger siblings look up to her, her parents pray she’s a good influence on Saera, and Saera….. She may be in love with her. (I did warn there was incest.) The singing dragon.

Adopted Child YN.

YN was adopted by Jaehaerys and Alyssanne after their daughter Daenerys died. She was 6 years old and had somehow called a dragon to her when a man tried to assault her. She screamed out for help, and Balerion the black dread flew to her aid. The large dragon curled around her and wouldn’t move until the girl asked him to release her, in front of King Jaehaerys. The blood of the dragon sang to her and the Targaryens felt connected to her. She was raised as a princess in King's landing, her childhood was raised amongst Aemon Baelon Alyssa Vaegon and Maegelle. (I will be writing her as a POC woman.) The Dragon Dancer.

Throughout each of these concepts YN has an unexplainable connection to the dragons. Though the Dragon Dancer has more of a magical connection rather than blood connection like her counterparts. YN is a beloved princess. She never knew her siblings Aegon, Daenerys, Gaemon, and Valerion. She knew of them but never interacted with them.

The Small Dragon is a beloved child that was coveted by all her family members. Due to her age and innocence.

The Singing Dragon is adored for her kind heart and melodic voice that seems to win over anyone. The family thinks she is above sexual filth, butYn just never got interested in that.

The Dragon Dancer has a strange magical connection to the dragons. They protect and listen to her. It is believed she is a dragon in human form, and there are whispers she is the blood of Old Valeria.

I will be doing individual headcanons about the relationships soon. Each person in the line will have a headcanon with each different YN.

Stay Groovy.

Taglist:

@missglaskin

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justjams2003 · 24 days

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Sweet Savegary- 10

Sorry for the long wait everyone🙈

Paring: Dark!Thor Odinson x Slave!Reader

Summary: All your life, Thor's blue eyes have haunted you. You believed you outran him, but now all your hopes come tumbling down.

Warnings: Death of loved ones, violence, nightmares, non-con, p in v, degradation. If you noticed it, strippers, technically (but like exotic dancers) Body shaming, stealing, stabbing, mentions of angels and Valhalla, lightning strikes. Talk about slavery and fluff. Google Translate Norwegian. Tell me if I missed any.

Word count: 2k+, Unedited

1st Divider by: @firefly-graphics

2nd Divider by: @cafekitsune

Tag list: @torossosebs @steverogersistheguy @thehighladyofasgard @notyourtypicalrose @presidentlokis-hornyhelmet @lovelyselfshipper @groovy-lady

~Masterlist~

Part 9~Part 11 (Coming soon)

“Where are you taking me?” Your feet drag across the floor, your body knows this is wrong but your mind is fuzzy. Your ears are ringing with the evil giggles of the dancing woman. Their sinister grins form into that of a cheshire cat. It makes you cold all over. They’re pulling you in all sort of directions. They tug on your clothes, stripping you one item at a time.

“I want her necklace.” “I want her cloak.” “I want her dress.” Stealing everything Thor has given you and your body is too limp to fight. “No, no,” You whimper, shaking your head and reaching out to take back what they steal from you. But you’re too weak. Your hand just falls to your side as you slump back against the closest wall.

You feel their hands roam all over you. “She’s so well fed...” You hear someone mutter. “I wish my thighs were soft like hers.” “We’re all just skin and bone.” “I hear those savages like their woman on the heavier side.” Their words swirl around in your head like whiplash. They pull sharply on your nipple and them praise your body. Pinch your thigh and wish they had it.

“You did so good...so good...” A new voice, a man, the king, not your king. A cold sting drags from your breast down to your naval. Icy and sharp, must be a knife. You gasp when suddenly frosty water drowns your airways. Only to be pulled back to breathe again. Adrenaline swims through you, forcing your vision to clear up.

The English King’s cruel glare makes you itch all over. Your hair stands on edge, naked and vulnerable in front of him. “Tell me, whore, what’s his secret?” Your brows furrow together and you struggle against whatever has been put in your system. “I don’t know-” He groans, “Come on now, don’t make this difficult. How do I break him?”

Again, your eyes droop and your legs feel like sticks. “What? No, no.” You shake your head. Break him? You don’t want to break him. He provides for you. Without him you’d be on the streets. He’s shown you new worlds, you owe him everything. “Come on, don’t tell you you’re defending him! He’s killed thousands of my men without even having to call out an army He doesn’t care about you and he’ll kill you as soon as you stop satisfying his cock.”

You shake your head, “No, you’re wrong.” "If I wanted to kill you, I would not be making love to you." Thor’s voice echos through your mind. That one night so many moons ago. He wouldn’t kill you, he’s never hurt you enough to leave long-lasting damage. He vowed to make you queen, he wouldn’t just kill off his queen. It’s all in discipline, in the name of love. To spare you from men like this English King.

The English King scoffs and grabs you by the throat. Forcing your droopy eyes to peer deep into his. They’re filled with hate. Thor doesn’t have hate. Only guilt and anger that comes and goes. No hate. “Don’t tell me you love that bastard!” You sit in his lap, he braids your hair. He wraps is arms around you, warms you and you calm his nightmares. Each of you give and each of you take and he’s only ever left bruises of possession. Is that not love? What do you know about love?

The English King’s hand tightens around your throat. The drugs mix with the lack of oxygen and suddenly everything feels so light. “You do!” Metal stings in your gut. Right on the edge of making love with your guts. “Pathetic!” Blood pools around the tip of the blade. To kill or to use? To cause Thor more pain or to use her and take over his kingdom?

But you...you special one are worth so much more than his kingdom...

Death is dipped in gold. And so peaceful. There is no pain and looking down, your blood isn’t crimson. It’s glittering and looks so appetizing. Your fingers smear into the gore, but it’s not vile. You want more. It feels so nice and warm against your cold drained skin. And it’s not sticky and not fluid either. Thick, dripping gold.

Angels seem to be singing your name. But, none of this makes sense. You should be in Valhalla. There are no angels where the Vikings go to die. This must be some other place in the great realms of the tree of life. This is the place that your king had showed you, when he spoke the words in the language that feels so close to home and at the same time unknown.

“Du kan ikke dra ennå. Du kan ikke komme hjem. Du må fullføre oppgaven din.” Who is that? Who whisper to you? You don’t understand. You don’t understand the language. But it sounds so familiar to the words your master speak to you. You wish he would speak to you. Tell you what you’re missing. Tell you why he won’t let go of you. Let you go. Let you go home. Where is home? He took it. He’s taken your home. He has it. He is home.

“Don’t fall for their lies!” What? The pretty gilt loses it’s sparkle. Turning a sour yellow and falls further into hideousness. And ugly finite red, never ending pour from the gash in your stomach. “That’s it! Come back to me. Please, please, little dove, look at me.” A bloody hand engulfs your cheek and now it’s an pulchritudinous blue. Thunder cracks through the sky and it hides the sound of people begging for their life from you.

“Du ga henne nettopp til meg! Jeg skal brenne ned Asgard hvis du tar henne nå. Du fryktet meg før, og du vil frykte mitt ord nå.” Who is he talking to? “Du lærer ikke leksjonen din, sønn.” And why can I hear a reply? “Ikke skjenn ut meg mens livet hennes glipper!” Why is he crying? “Min underkastelse kan du ha, men du vil ikke ta henne fra meg.” I’m so tired. “Vær forsiktig med ordene du sier.”

“What did you do?!” A loud boom wakes you along with a crack of lightning. The darkness now dark pink and the throbbing in your body is so much worse than you remember. “You know what they will ask of you now.” Are they talking to you? “You’ve traded her life for billions!” A growl, no, they aren’t talking to you. “They sent her here to play with you and you fell for it.” A loud smack and then crumbling interrupts the heavy raining, why are your eyelids so weighty?

“Don’t you think I know that?! This was not part of the plan, she was never part of the plan!” What plan? Slowly your eyes flutter open, but you shut them just as quickly. In fear that they might see you wake. “You were suppose to pull the wool over their eyes. Make them believe that you’re growing soft. Not actually become weak!” You try again, this time more slowly opening your eyes.

Thor stands leaning on the balcony. His bare back to you, his long blonde hair hangs with shame. The Warriors look to be scolding him. Never did you think you’d see the day of that happening. You didn’t think that anyone could ever hold any power over the mountain of a man. Thick storm clouds colour the sky behind them. “It was too soon. I need more time.”

“We’ve been here over three thousand years. How much more time do you need? Now would’ve been the time to act!” Thor glares over the balcony, down at the New Asgardian people going about their day. He shakes his head. “These mortals will never be ready. We placed far too much hope in their hands. Your best warriors don’t even come close to grazing me.”

You try to get up, to hear more of what they’re saying, but the pain snaps through you and a groan escapes you. Another snap of lightning. All four of their eyes find your own. It’s like predators in the dark. Glowing flames from afar. Thor glares at the warriors, cutting the conversation and their comments short. When they leave the room, Thor’s eyes settle on you.

“Lay back down and don’t move.” His voice is stern, he crosses his arms over his bare chest and just leans against the balcony. You follow his instructions, except you hold out your hand for him to take. Your feel so cold without his body heat always near you. But he does not move, his jaw locks and his eyes don’t move from your stretched out hand.

You can see he's fighting battles in his mind. Why won’t he come closer? He saved you but does not want you? He sighs, his hand rubs his face and then combs through his tangled hair. “You make me weak.” The words hit like the dagger that almost killed you. To hear him admit something like that could have you beheaded. “No.” The word slips from your mouth.

His brows furrow and he snarls. “No?” He asks, almost in shock. “No! You... you cannot be weak! If you are weak then there is no hope for me.” It looks as if you’re talking to him a foreign language. “You are talking nonsense, girl.” He gruffs and shakes his head. “I know what I'm saying. If you are weak then everyone else is strong and I’ll end up back in the hands of people who’d rather learn the name of a pig than my own.”

“You were almost killed! Just because I let my guard down! In the-” he stops and sighs as if stopping his tongue from acting to quick. “Three thousand years?” His eyes go wide and his face goes pale. “How much did you hear?” His jaw locks and his fists crack the stone of the balcony.

My mouth hangs open and I begin to panic. “Answer me!” He yells out, his voice booms inside of you. Lightning strikes the ground behind him. “Fucking hell.” He mutters to himself. Is the lightning scaring him as much as it scares you? Your heart shakes. “I- Everything.” He sighs and again rubs his face. “Another fucking problem.” It hurts to be seen as a problem, something to deal with.

“What were you talking about? Please, talk to me.” You can’t talk like this, laying down. Again you try to get up but wince. Fuck does it hurt. “What the fuck did I say? Can’t you follow orders just once?” He snaps at you, as if that isn’t all you’ve been doing...This is the most he’s talked to you at a time. His heavy boots shake the floor as he stomps over to you.

He sits down next to you, his heavy hand pushes you back down against the soft pillows. Then his hands shove the blankets to the side and begins lifting your dress. You grab his hands. “Please, Thor, I am in pain, I’ll make it up later, I, I promise-” He just growls at you and continues lifting your dress.

You see the huge gash on your stomach. Nowhere near as long or gruesome as the one on his chest, but still unsightly for a lady. His brows knit together, examining the stitches. “Your wound needs to be cleaned.” He mumbles, standing up to get some supplies from the bathroom. This is different, he seems almost more human now. Acknowledging your pain and not using you.

The alcohol burns your stomach and you hiss pulling back. Thor’s huge hand clasps around your hip to keep you in place. “How long was I asleep?” You ask, watching those giant hands of his trying to be gentle. He’s clumsy, not used to dealing with a task so small. “Three days you were between life and death. I cursed the English healers for knowing nothing and as soon as you were stable we made quick work back to New Asgard.”

He explains, it’s so strange to hear him speak so much to you. “Thor, who was that voice? Who was it that you cursed over my dying breath?” His jaw locks tight again. “You were dying, you were seeing things.” You scoff and insist. “I’m not! I know what I saw. It was as you showed me, on the boat. Seeing without looking. Like you said!”

His hand goes up to grab your cheeks between his hand. Your jaw hurts under his force. “If I said that you were seeing things, then it is so. You are not to question me. Know your place. I have no patience or control left.” He commands, his eyes stern and you know if you push it anymore you could end up hurting yourself.

He stands up, rinsing out the towel he had used to clean your wound. And when he’s done he opens the door, ready to leave. “You are not to leave this room under any circumstances. You do not open the door to anyone but me. Not even the Warriors.” He commands, and the door slams in your face before you can argue.

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