#//Maybe I can just shove them all onto the same blog now

[selfship-confession-void]

Explaining Nonsharing (FROM MY EXPERIENCE)

Proship/comship/darkfic/neutral DNI!! This post is NOT for you. Stay out of my blog

To note: this is for fun! I've seen a lot of people confused by their own feelings of ickiness/jealousy/discomfort when it comes to nonsharing, so I thought diving into it might help people feel better about how they feel! And also to help explain to those who aren't Nonsharers where the feelings come from. I may make a sequel post to this tying in ficto identities, depending.

Disclaimer: I am not a scientist, professional, or in any way a beacon of all-knowing truth or complete fact. This dissection is largely based off of my own feelings as a Nonsharer to some F/Os myself, and my personal understanding of the matter. I apologize if it doesn't make complete sense, but if it doesn't fit your experience, keep in mind that these things tend to be a complex topic that cannot be narrowed down into one post or theory, because every Nonsharer is different. I'm just attempting to maybe help a few people understand it a bit better.

Ramblings under the cut:

Now: where does nonsharing come from? To be simplistic, it stems from affection. To understand why someone would be unwilling to share their F/Os, you'd have to understand the science behind affection itself, and sometimes jealousy as well. Firstly though, remember that they're both complex emotions. Emotions themself are complicated, but love especially, as it can come in several different forms and for several different reasons. And everyone experiences it differently. There's entire extensive articles and studies you could look into about love and how it works, but let's be honest: it hardly ever makes sense.

How does this tie back? Well, when you're very close to someone, it's natural to want to protect them. It goes into every relationship, even animals experience it. Platonically, familially, romantically, every version of deep affection carries a desire to protect. I won't keep dancing around the explanations, so the easiest way to put it is everyone experiences that protective instinct differently. And sometimes it can be really intense, just as well as it can be minimal. Hence, nonsharing.

Now I know how that sounds, so let me specify: this does not mean Nonsharers see others as a threat or something to guard against. It just means they naturally feel how others do, in a more intense way. That's why it may make you feel uncomfortable to see someone else with your F/O. Because that's your partner, and it's a very natural emotion to want to keep your partner close. But, and this is where jealousy comes in— you gotta be respectful.

Just because it's normal to feel protective of a partner doesn't give anyone the right to harass or antagonize people with the same F/O. Remember— though your love for your F/O is real and extremely valid, you cannot stuff them in a box and let no one else see them ever. They're from free and open media. I know that may sound a little harsh, but you have to be reasonable here. Do not ever harass or bully someone just because they share an F/O you don't wanna share. This is why we have the block button. It's 110% okay to set up a "doubles DNI" rule or block whoever makes you uncomfortable. This is your online experience after all! I'm merely saying no one should shove their ideas onto someone else and judge them accordingly.

This goes for Sharers, too. You're not "better" than someone who doesn't share F/Os. I've seen way too many super aggressive anons and backhanded posts in this community about Nonsharers. Just because you personally don't understand it, or you don't feel upset with someone else selfshipping with a character you like, doesn't mean Nonsharers are any less valid.

There is no excuse for trying to harm a Nonsharer just because they don't share. Any time that's said, the most common response I see is "but sometimes they're toxic!". Guess what? Sharers can be toxic as hell too. Especially when picking on people in their own community over a preference. Just because SOME of them can be rude and damaging doesn't mean you can suddenly act like everyone who doesn't share an F/O is the same bad egg. Yes this goes in vice versa too. But Sharers are particularly prone to picking on Nonsharers more than the other way around in my experience, so yes it is important for me to hammer this point home for so long.

But back on track: you may be wondering— "okay, so you said not wanting to share comes from natural feelings of affection. But why do some people have it more intense than others?". Simple answer is, everyone is different. Yes I know that sounds lame and cheesy, but in several scientific aspects, it's true! There's not always an exact reason why something is different for some than others. It's just how things are. Expecting everyone to conform to one idea is unrealistic. Expecting everyone to experience something the same is unrealistic. As stated before: just because your experience is different, doesn't make anyone else's lesser.

So now that I've established where it may come from and what that means, let's get a little more into how to handle it. Lemme make this abundantly clear— whether you share or not, your relationship with your F/O(s) is valid. Because it is your own unique perception of them, it will always be wholly yours. Your feelings being as strong as they are is proof that it's real. And even if you don't feel them that strongly, considering a character an F/O at all is a testament to genuine care. So what do you do when you care for them so much that seeing other people express care for them is harmful to you?

As I mentioned before— the age old block method is always a good one. If you don't want to see someone's content, you can always use the button that let's you not ever see it again. Don't worry, it doesn't make you "sensitive", "a baby", or anything negative. The function exists for a reason, and if it helps your mental health, absolutely go for it! Your wellbeing is always important above all else.

But if you're like me, you may still feel bad after the block, simply because seeing the content in it of itself was distressing. Unfortunately, there's no single solution to that. I know it's not helpful to read that, but it is true. The best advice I can think to give is find a way to really connect with your F/O. If you can find something that establishes a strong sense of connection, it could be comforting to revisit it whenever you're feeling down. A plush, drawing, song, scent, item, anything like that which you can relate to your beloved. Indulge in it when you're feeling down, and remember: they do love you, your feelings are valid, and as long as you're not hurting yourself or others, there's absolutely nothing wrong with not sharing.

If that doesn't help, try and find what works for you! Remember that your F/O would comfort, love, and support you no matter what. And there is no "this is true for me and no one else" in this community. Everyone is deserving of love. Cope however you need to, but remember that at the end of the day it's never right to take your feelings out on someone else and tear others down over something harmless. In your universe with your F/O, your love is endless and solely yours, but everyone is allowed their own pocket of comfort.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Alright, that's all! I hope this comes across clearly, but a reminder just in case: this is not a professional report, objective fact, or statements that is meant to try and say everyone experiences this. This is a theory from someone who is partially nonsharing attempting to make a connection as to why these things occur, as well as some general good PSAs. If this doesn't match your experience, remember that everyone feels these feelings uniquely, and yours are totally normal and valid. This isn't meant to be a perfect explanation, merely a guess that might help it make some sense to those who don't understand it. As I've stated countless times, no matter what, be kind to each other. Harassment is never okay from either side. Thank you for reading

[fandomfluffandfuck]

as someone obsessed with pussy steve, it drives me insane because i was doing my final exam today and all i was thinking about is "am i going to read the same pussy steve blog of S? yeah tf i am" and im here requesting from u some more pussy steve bc goddamn thats my obsessionnnnn. plus it's my first time asking u to write anything (i dont do shit but read things here and trying not fail school at the same time)

related to this pussy Steve ask

also... we're channeling this vibe shamelessly as we continue on from that last post, still set during WWII

Good job with your finals!! Let's dive in 👀

Steve can't fucking take it anymore, groaning as he flops back onto the squeaky, lumpy mattress that's supposed to be his bed. They've been holed up in this goddamn remote rubble city for what feels like years after clearing the town of HYDRA and Nazi agents with no action to burn off his excessive energy. The once standing city has long since been evacuated because of the air raids. The bombs have flattened almost half of it, shaking the other half immensely, but without orders to go elsewhere, the Howling Commandos are lying low, trying to plan their next move on their own. It feels like a waste just to march all the way back to camp but they don't have any other leads. Not yet.

And the Howlies have scavenged the area already, gathering any remaining, surviving food that isn't their shit MREs, plus having made sure no civilians were left behind before sitting down to talk and plan.

And talk and plan and talk and plan.

Steve can only strategize for so long, he can only play card games for so long, he can only draw on scraps of paper for so long; the serum has left him even more hot blooded than he was with all this vivacity he couldn't've dreamed of before, as thin and sickly as he was. So it's a fucking problem. Sitting still.

Waiting.

They should be doing something. Seeing action. Doing good. This is war. It feels so bizarre to sit between what they have just seen and what they're going to see. Bad things.

So, yeah, Steve is having a hard time unhelped by the fact that they're stuck in the one reliable structure that happens to be a small inn with thin walls. It's a blessing to have their own rooms and real beds, just enough rooms that they only have to pair up rather than sleeping in a dog pile together, but they might as well be together with these paper walls. Thus, Steve is being extra careful as he attempts to burn off some steam, alone while the others do... whatever... out in the main room (maybe a game of poker?) by stuffing the undershirt he's been wearing beneath his red white and blue uniform into his mouth.

The shirt tastes of salt and musk, balled up and packed between his teeth, filling his mouth, keeping his jaw open. Keeping the sounds he wants to make down. Most of the sounds. He can't help the sounds his body makes that don't come out of his mouth... wet, slick squelching sounds from between his legs, his fingers plunging deep into himself as if he's trying to get to his heart. In the scenario where he wanted to get off and be done with it, he'd be making tight, hard circles around his clit, pressing down against it hard, impatient and rough with himself, making himself a little raw with it but a lot sensitive--but that's not what he wants right now. He wants to burn through energy now. So, he has two fingers crooked inside his pussy, plunging them in and drawing them out slow enough that it makes him crazy. It's enough to feel good, so, so good, but not enough to get him off.

Steve's not wearing his uniform without the undershirt while he fingers himself. Well, he's not wearing it in full. He's kept his pants and boots on in case they need to get up and go, but... his pants are gaping open.

He's undone the long zip and aaall the latching buttons, ripping the taps as wide apart as he can get them without just taking his pants off. His hand shoved beneath both layers--pants and underwear.

His boxers are ruined. Wet. Soaked.

Registering just how sticky and wet he is, pulling his fingers out of his cunt to trace his puffy, swollen slit, he plays with his own wetness. He's dripping. He doesn't touch his aching clit directly, but he does put pressure on the legs of it, tracing the v down his vulva, spreading his legs wider, just a tiny bit, so his lips are out of the way as much as they can be, exposing himself, touching himself, and--

Choking on a whimper as electric pleasure shoots through him.

That's the closest he's let himself get to touching his clit in, in... however long it's been? An hour? Two? Ten minutes?

Steve doesn't let it last. Instead, blearily, he presses his middle and ring fingers back into himself. Back into the scorching, melted heat of his body. His foot kicks out, restless, needing something to do with the thick lust building inside him. Groaning softly through his shirt, Steve arches his neck, lifting his head off the bed just enough to let it come crashing back down heavily, giving his sweat-soaked blonde hair an impressively ruffled style.

As thoughts as he feels--his coherency consumed by pleasure--Steve suddenly flushes, wondering if Bucky will be able to smell it on him when he's done (if he doesn't already know what he's locked himself into their room to do). Once he's worn himself out, cumming on his own fingers after too much build up to be comfortable, leaving himself hurting with too much tension and desire, will Bucky know? Steve will button and zip up his pants and put his shirt back on and waltz back out there, but will it all be only for Bucky to corner him away from the other guys and maybe tip his chin up, fingers on his jaw, eye-to-eye, give him those dark eyes that say, I know what you did, maybe Bucky will kiss his neck and murmur to him hotly, or maybe he'll bend him over, their clothes still on, his cock a hot, thick line in his trousers, pressed against his slit, sweet talking him with his players voice, saying filthy things about how he can smell it on him like he's a bitch in heat with the most syrupy tone, crooning so Steve will get stickier, wetter, and gooey-er. Melted in the center like some kind of oozing, chocolate dessert. Hot and ready to be devoured.

Bitten.

Licked.

Swallowed.

Steve is thinking about his best guy's cock and he's thinking about his mouth, too, now. He's thinking about those sweet talking, wicked lips. He's thinking about his immaculately styled head of hair between his thighs, going to town. Not an ounce of reservation in the way he dives into him, in how he licks, how he slurps, how he fucks.

Jesus Christ.

Steve's jaw works around his balled up shirt, clenching. His throat contracts as he swallows thickly, praying that he doesn't wail like he wants to. The sound is in his chest, rattling around, building into this aching pressure. He can't fit anymore arousal inside himself. He's gonna burst.

Then, when he's weak and he just can't fucking stop himself, Bucky on his mind like always, Steve curls his fingers just enough to catch the raised spot inside him, spongy and sensitive. So fucking sensitive. His sweet spot that causes his hips to involuntarily buck up, searching for more, needing more. If he weren't gagged, he'd be moaning for it.

Moaning Bucky's name.

Bucky's on his mind already, so, of course, he wants Bucky on his tongue, too. Worse, he wants Bucky inside him. He wants him so bad that he's fucking aching, clenching around his fingers, hips squirming, toes curling, panting. He wants Bucky's cock in him so bad, slamming home so he's leaking around it, wetting his balls and smearing all over both of their thighs. He's a slippery mess.

He wants Bucky so bad that he has to stop thrusting his fingers in and out of his tight cunt to work a third finger into himself, chasing the girth of his dick. He can't get as deep as Bucky does, and it's just not the same to the point that, that--

Steve garbles out something of a sob. His eyes sting with tears. His head is so hot with frustration. Hazy and smoking. He can't think. He can't keep his rhythm. He's shaking.

Fuck.

When he pulls out to add another fingertip--stretching before he eases the entire length of his own finger in--he realizes he can smell himself. Already, he could smell himself wafting up from his unwashed shirt, sweaty, but now he can smell the hot, briny musk of his own arousal, carried on the sex-thick air of the quaint inn room. Humid and heavy.

He can smell himself. Sweat, musk, and leaking slick. It's an unmistable scent that turns Steve on more than it should, considering it's his own smell, twisting up in his gut and making him feel tighter, tenser, hotter. He can taste himself. Sweat, musk, and dirty, unwashed cotton coating his tongue, dripping down his throat, joining the lust already pooled low in his belly. He can hear himself. Slick, squelching, and lewd with his fingers curling inside himself. Muffled and drowning with sounds dying in the back of his throat before they have the chance to come out of his mouth. The soft snuffling, shuffling sounds of his pants folding and brushing against the bed sheets, fabric rustling and creaking as his thighs spread instinctively until the the seams groan. Every sound is another piece of wood added to the fire, burning hotter until it crackles and pops with the explosions of hot sap. Steve is feasting on these sensations as much as he's feasting on the slick, velvet feeling of the inside of his own pussy. He can touch himself. Smooth, wet inner walls that cling so tightly to his own fingers. If he could lift his head, the weight of his empty skull, so weakened, he could see himself, too--his hand moving in his pants, the veins running over his muscled forearms bulging with the effort of working his fingers so much.

God, he wants more in him.

His fingers work faster, curling a little harder, plunging deeper until he's erupting with another garbled cry.

He wants Bucky's cock in his pussy, throbbing with the pound of his best guy's heart, at the same time that he wants Bucky's thumb to sneak down between where their sweaty bodies collide with every frantic thrust, slicking the digit up with Steve's overpouring wetness until he reaches back, traces the sensitive, pink flesh between his legs to get to his asshole and pops it inside him, too, giving him something extra. Extra stuffing, his thumb in his ass, pressing back against his pussy. The thin wall between his holes. Giving him something more to clench down on while he wails, crashing over the edge as Bucky grinds so deep he can taste it, choke on it, so deep that his pelvis rubs on Steve's swollen clit and makes it impossible not to cum.

Guh.

Steve is drooling, soaking into his own shirt, thinking about Bucky.

Drowning in pleasure from his own hand.

Steve is rocking up into his hand, his hips with a mind of their own, or, rather, mindless in the pursuit of pleasure, instinctively rutting, humping, rolling, and just going. He's trying to swallow moans and gasps to varying degrees of success. He knows not all of them stay down in his tight, heaving chest, but he doesn't know how loud his noises are, his heartbeat is too loud in his ears.

Regardless of his noises, he keeps chasing his pleasure, his clit swollen and peaking out as much as it can from it's hood--leaving it vulnerable and draaagging just lightly against the heel of his hand. It's agonizing. With every feathered drag of his sensitive clit against his hand, it's making his sounds grow worse. He will be wailing soon no matter what he does. No matter how much he tries to keep it down.

It aches.

It hurts.

It feels sofuckinggood.

His jaw is working so hard that it feels like his teeth will rip into his shirt soon. Gah. Oh, ah, yeahh--

The temperature keeps going up and up in and all around Steve, fever hot, when the door swings open.

Steve is so tightly wound that he can't freeze. There is no way to stop the forest fire within him. It's going to have to come to its own conclusion when it has burned through everything he has, only ash left. Nothing can put him out.

So it's a damn good thing that it's Bucky that walks through the open door, hurriedly slamming it behind him when his eyes land on Steve's debauched, twitching form on the bed they've been sharing. A cold rush of air comes in with him, leaving all the hair on Steve's body to stand on end in salute. He quivers harder.

Bucky wastes no time. He is deadly, vicious in his pursuit--the sound of the door slamming hits Steve's ears, delayed with his mushy brain, and then Bucky is immediately on him like a predator pouncing.

His body is heavy on top of him, pinning him with the drag of his uniform against Steve's sensitive, sweat-glistening skin.

Real.

He's so real that it's visceral. It's not just Steve's heated, out-of-control fantasies as he approaches his orgasm without breaks.

Bucky cages him in with his body, one of his hands planted by Steve's head, steadying himself, while his other hand grabs ahold of Steve's forearm to rip his hand out of his pants.

Steve does wail then, through his makeshift gag.

The look on Bucky's face is evil, mocking him playfully, asking, oh, really, is that how it is?

After all these years, they read each other like open books. Steve knows he knows how turned on he is, and it's devastating. Bucky probably knows just based on how much he's blushing and how he can't keep his eyes open, how long he's been going at it for. He knows how much it aches to be untouched when he gets like this. Especially now. Post-serum. It's all he can think about. He can feel his heartbeat pounding in his pussy. He's hot and swollen and so wet that it brings stinging tears to his eyes. God.

He's so fucking needy.

He needs Bucky. He needs--

Bucky sticks both of Steve's hands above his head, crossed at the wrist, and uses one of his own to pin them there. Steve could easily break away any time, but now. He's so worn down. He's weak. His brain has gone out of his head, and all of his super-strength has drained from his body out of his weeping cunt. He's depleted. He can do nothing by lay there, helpless and vulnerable, as Bucky shoves and pushes and shimmies his pants and underwear down. He barely gets them halfway down his thighs before he stops, and because of it, Steve sucks in a sharp breath through his balled up shirt. The air of the room is shocking against his soaked, sticky center.

Guh.

GUH!

Steve makes a fucking stupid sound when Bucky quits messing with his tangled up pants to instead mess with his pussy. He slips one, then two, then three inside him. Fast. A predator tearing through prey, no time to think, just do. His shit eating grin tells Steve that he's impressed with how sloppy he's gotten himself, and he wants to cry in embarrassment but also pride.

With three fingers inside him, Bucky curls them and grinds them deeper, deeper, curls, deep, curl, deep--

Steve's head is spinning. He doesn't even know what Bucky is doing to him. It just, it, it, ohgod, his eyes roll back so far, so hard it hurts, it feels so good. It's wrecking him. Whatever he's doing to him. Maybe it's Bucky's reckless thirst for him. Maybe it's the serum burning like venom in his veins. Maybe it's both of them mixing together into one harsh cocktail, so intoxicating it immediately makes him drunk.

The things Bucky is doing to his body make Steve want to shriek in pleasure. He's letting go of his wrists but it's not like Steve can move anyway and it's for good reason that he's not pinning him anymore because instead he's pressing down on his belly with that hand as he curls his fingers more, more, more, curling them towards himself hard, pressing so hard on that spot inside him that Steve doesn't even, he's not even sure he can comprehend the pleasure cutting through him, it's so much pressure building up inside him, taking more space than he realized he had even inside this bigger, stronger body, he can't, he's not strong enough, he--

Steve gasps and squirms, not understanding, wanting to babble, oh, oh, Bucky, what-I, I'm-! Wait! What is that feeling? Why does it feel like that? Wh--he can't, though, he can't say anything, his mouth stuffed.

He screams behind his teeth and--

Steve fucking whites out.

He's there one minute and then he's gone in a flash. Too much pleasure. Too much pressure. Too good. He's half convinced, totally out of his mind, that he's exploded or, or...

Oh.

As Steve returns to himself in bits and pieces, still shattered in the aftermath, he's almost sure he's lost so much control of himself that he's pissed himself. He's so fucking wet. Soaked down his thighs and down Bucky's wrist. If he has pissed himself, then he's given everything up to Bucky, his body entirely his lover's, every part of it, but then.

JesusfuckingChrist.

Then, Bucky's voice breaks through the ringing in his ears, and he's softly, quietly purring to him, mindful of their thin walls in a way Steve has not been while being stripped down to the bone in exhausting, overwhelming pleasure. Bucky's voice is all low and hot, too turned on as he works Steve through it, touching him much softer, nicer, lighter while he tells him how fucking hot that was, watching him, feeling him squirt around his fingers. And, holy shit, he's gonna make him do that on his dick. He will.

It's a promise.

Now that he knows he can make Steve squirt, he's gonna do it all. the. fucking. time.

Steve whines through his gag, his body trembling hard with his fading fever. Oh. It hits like a sledgehammer to the back of his head. He's going to die. Bucky is gonna kill him, making him squirt, making him writhe, making him want to crawl out of his own body, giving him too much gutteral, visceral pleasure.

Bonus:

I've had a draft sitting here on Tumblr for a while that simply says:

Lil pussy Steve domming big, beefy Bucky. Steve's wearing a pair of panties to a party, getting them messy in a closet or bathroom or... both... where Bucky fingers him until he cums, then, once they've finished and Steve is desperately wet, he makes Bucky put swap underwear with him. Bucky obeys because of course he's done--he's big and he falls hard. Steve's wet, dirty panties, though, they're much too tight and remind him for the next few hours (hours that Steve, the introvert, suspiciously makes them stick around the party for) exactly of what they did. How he made his dom squirt and make these panties wet and smell musky and hot like his pussy does. Ruin them. Ruining the panties, ruining Bucky.

Plus, the whole rest of the party, Bucky has to live with the fact that Steve doesn't have any underwear on because rather than put Bucky's boxers on, he shoved them into his pocket where he could take them out at any time. Fuck, they could fall out at any moment! Bucky can't focus on a single fucking conversation.

And it's not until they get home that Bucky gets to cum.

When they're finally, finally home, Steve pushes Bucky down onto the floor, mounts his lap, and grinds into his hard, hard cock bursting out of his teeny-tiny, too-tight panties. The underwear is so little and delicate, all wet lace, that Bucky nearly ripped them putting on his bigger body. Demanding him to cum and ruin them further, one of Steve's thin, bony hands constricts around his throat.

Oh, yeah, he owns this big, subby mess of a man.

So... do with that what you will 😏

[lfc21]

Wedding night

Player: Neymar jr

TW: Fluff, wedding scene

Authors note: This is my first Neymar jr imagine! Please leave feedback, I greatly appreciate it.

You thought love was about red roses and expensive dinners. Truth is, love is giving half of your food even when they say they weren't hungry. Love is waking up at 4am to their snores and refraining from shoving them off the bed. It's talking in accents just to make the laugh and trying to embarrass one another in public. It's going on adventures and making fun of each other. It's stupid fights and memorable makeups. Love isn't pretty and romantic. Love is just stumbling through life with your best friend.

You stood on the balcony of your honeymoon, sweet. The floods of guests stood singing and beaming in the court yard. It was your big day, and it wasn't just a day that you were excited for. It was the rest of your life. Your hands held the metal running across the Juliet balcony. The sun was dancing of the ring in which held the most important thing to you, your love. You inhaled, feeling the most clear breath you had gained all day. It was now stress free. You felt your husbands hands wrap around your small frame. His hands sat on the bodes of your white gown, and his head was resting on your shoulder as he inhaled your comforting scent.

"You look gorgeous bebê" He said in his soft angelic accent. You leaned into his embrace as your eyes watched your family and friends dance and sing as if it was their last day. Your hands fell on top of his as the cold feeling of his new ring laid rest on your palm.

"I think I can say the same to you," you softly said with a smirk as you turned around in his embrace. Your eyes looked up through your lashes as his signature smirk fell so deeper into your vision. You were addicted to him.

"I'm glad where on the same page," He said in a smile as his lips fell lightly onto yours. You let out a giggle at his obvious jokes. His hands were taking up the majority of your back. Neymar had never had a clear obsession with wedding dresses, but in this moment, he was the one most addicted. He could have kept you in this pure look for the rest of your lives.

"Where always on the same page," you remark with a laugh as your hands hold him from behind your back and slowly unwrapped them from your body. His eyes were piercing into you. It was as if he was telling a million stories just by looking at you. "Come on, we have guests," you added, stringing the s on your last word as you wondered past him with a swing of your hips. He quickly ran his body to you as he quickly wondered to your moving back and hunched over to grab your hand. His eyes were resting on the curves in your body. If it was up to him, he would have you in this suite all day. You wouldn't have complained he was sculpted from god in his perfectly fitted suit and his delicately styled hair.

"Do you know what I think we should do for a joint wedding present?" He casually asked as you shut the door and walked hand in hand down the grand hallway. His hand was modelled into yours.

"What?" You asked with a smile as you looked up at his working face. He looked down at you with a smirk and nothing but a giddy laugh.

Hey guys 👋🏻 This is my first Neymar Jr. imagine, so I really hope you enjoy it. 😉 I would greatly appreciate feedback and requests ❤️ Thank you all so much for the support 💌

"I think Davi needs a brother or sister," He explained with a teethy grin. You simply shuck your head with a smile as you tugged him quicker down the hall. Maybe he was right? After all, it was your wedding night.

Main masterlist📃

@prettylittletrent @cornertakenquicklyyyy @trentalexanderarnold @robbo38 @robbothegoat @kostasstsimikass @chelseamount @chloereddy @tsimikasfamily @avenirdelight @blueathens @jordanhendersunshine @mrs-henderson @thatonesexycancerian @hendersons1truelover @nyctophilic0vitnir @peekapeaches @tsimikas2l @tsimikostas @trentalexarnofan @leddott-blog @moneymasnn @superkittywonderland @virgilvansike @virgilvandickmedown @hopefulromantic1 @robbo-trent-fanfiction26

[romana-after-dark]

Pushing Buttons

Darkish!Nathan Bateman x fem!reader

Masterlist : Taglist

Summary: You purposefully piss Nathan off just to get used and degraded.

Warnings and Content: Hate fucking, everything is consenual but it not really what a good dom/sub dynamic should look like hence it being in the dark blog. Rough sex, spitting, lots of talk of sweat and spit. Foot fetish, Nathan is face stomping, which means he's got his foot on readers face, and the heel goes in her mouth at one point. I refuse to write literal non con on here and feel embarrassed for a foot fetish okay. LOTS OF DEGRADING TALK, like, seriously degrading. Only a little bit of aftercare and it's not an established part of their dynamic. Mentions of ass eating. Nathan and reader just being gross.

A/N: This is not the Dark!nathan I was talking about ealier but this was kinda a warm up to get a little more of a hold of his character. I may have to watch the movie again to get a feel for his mannerism. Or maybe I should write him drunk. Anyway. This came about after a convo with @hon3yboy and she encouraged me to write this after sharing hony thots about foot on face lol. Gonna take a quick sec and promo her, everyone should check out her Werewolf!Marc series

800 Words

*******************

You’d done it on purpose, honestly. You’d pissed Nathan off intentionally after he’d been ignoring you all day. 

He was supposed to spend the day with you, take you hiking and fuck you in some steamy spring, but instead he had spent all day in his office coding. You tried to hang out in the office with him, to get him to remember his promise but instead you just got mad when you took a peek at his coding. You didn’t understand much about coding, but you looked at his notes and figured it out.

“You’re programming her to blow you?!?!?!”

This erupted in a big fight, Nathan insisting he wasn’t programming his AI to blow him, but to suck dick in general. You didn’t believe him, or maybe you did but you were too mad to think clearly, and ripped his computer off his desk and threw it on the floor.

That’s how you ended up here, tossed on the couch like a rag doll and molded into every position Nathan wants as he hate fucked you. At the moment, he had you on your knees and braced up against the arm rest as he knelt. With his fingers in your mouth, you gagged up spit that he smeared all over your face, rubbing your eye make up on your skin.

“Open.” Nathan order, and you vaguely open your eyes and mouth to accept the glob of spit that he didn’t even try to aim on your face.

“Dirty fucking whore, always trying to piss me off just so she can get abused.” Without a doubt, that’s what you did, but you fucking loved it. Sure, this wasn’t the perfect relationship, but it wasn’t really much of a relationship. You weren’t his girlfriend. You were just here. And although it was never meant to last long, you enjoyed the chaos.

Nathan pulled out, and before you could think much on it, he grabbed your hips and pulled you back before shoving your face into the couch and adjusting his own position. Standing on the couch cushion now, Nathan steadies himself by twisting one of your arms behind your back and putting the other one on the backrest for stability.

His right foot was planted directly on your face.

Nathan Bateman was barefoot most of the time. Living in a home with heated floors, he liked to “Let them bad boys breathe” It was his same justification for sleeping naked. 

Planting his foot on your face was a new level of degradation as he fucked you, his words bringing you closer and closer to orgasm. 

“Pathetic, dirty bitch, letting me step on your face, letting me shove your face in my ass.” Nathan panted over you. He was fit, but the activities you both engaged in always made him breathless, his sweat dripping down from his hairless head and onto your face. You tasted the salt, moaning as your cunt clenched around his massive length. 

Nathan laughed a cruel, mocking laugh. “That turns you on? You’re fucking disgusting, you’re so pathetic, I should just- ohhhhfuckohfuck- I should just cum inside and got let you get off, leave you rutting against the couch like a bitch in heat.” Nathan filled you up over and over again, each thrust inward making his sweaty foot shove you into the cushion. “You're desperate enough, bet I could make you hum anything just to get off. God, sofuckingtight! Shit!” His grunts grow louder, his hips more frantic and you know he’s close, and so are you.

“Bet you’re the kind of girl I could fuck right up against a dumpster, just shove your face against the filth so I don’t have to look at your fucking face-”

That did it. “NATHAN!” You scream as you cum all around him, mouth wide open so his sweaty foot slide down enough you can taste him, but you don’t care. Nothing mattered when Nathan was inside you.

Nathan was cumming, filling you up as he called you his “disgusting little cum dumpster” and spitting on you one last time. With all the moisture on your face, his foot slipped off you and Nathan fell forward, his cock brutally spearing you as you both collapsed onto the couch.

“Fucking bitch.” Nathan smacked your ass as he walked butt naked, only to stop, pause, then turn around. Returning to your fucked out body, Nathan took his discarded shirt and wiped your face off before pulling a throw blanket over you. He leaned down, pinching your face in his fingers and speaking firmly. “Sleep”

Nathan pulled on his basketball shorts, and as your eyes drifted off into dreamland, so thoroughly exhausted, blissed out and satisfied, the sounds of Nathan taking the rest of his rage out on the punching back lulled you to sleep.

*******************

I know it's not my strongest work but I just wanted to test out some Nathan Bateman

Also, im updating my tag list so even if you commented to be on my tag list, please comment again. Before, i just had TLOU and Moon Knight, but I've been expanding so comment Oscar or Pedro characters please!

IDK whose all interested bc Nathan Bateman and its like foot fetish based lmfao so just tagging @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction and @alwaysmicado who support my insanity.

[localsharkcryptid]

*stumbles onto your blog, tripping over various tree root and covered in leaves* Hi! I heard you have a Dragon Rider AU!!

Is everyone humans? Are some people dragons? It’s it angsty? Do you have a general plot? What kind of location is this based on? What kinds of dragons are there? Is dragon riding widely accepted? Can everyone do it or just a select few? How do people get their dragons?

Well hello there! :D

I've gotta say this is a LOT of questions but I do not mind at all!! Just this gonna be a long post, and speaking of which onto the answers!

---

Is everyone humans? Are some people dragons?

In this case everyone is human for this au!

Is it angsty?

Mildly?? I personally would consider it, bittersweet I suppose? The bit I'm working on currently is very focused on the shattered nature of DTeam's dynamic so I'll say good mild angst rating with a happy ending eventually (Angst may also be higher for the dnf enjoyers)

Do you have a general plot?

I have quite a few plot notes actually!! Currently I'm focused on what is a prequel to my original idea, which is shelved temporarily for reasons, so now this part of the story is focused on Dream and how he's dealing with his choices - and his attempts to run away from his role in everything.

The short version is basically: Dream is heir to his brother's (DreamXD) throne and well he wants absolutely nothing to do with it, this leads to a lot of rash decisions and unfortunately attempts to shove away his friends. A spiral very similar to canon dsmp just different motives. Inevitably though when he finally claims a dragon he at last has his ticket to freedom and makes a break for it to have his freedom. Shennagains then ensue, including obligatory Drunz cause I eternally love their character dynamic, Rivals Duo being rivals, XDnf in the distant background, and various other things I'm working out still!

What kind of location is this based on?

In general I am taking a lot of vibes from Westeros from A Song of Ice and Fire/Game of Thrones, a very very classic medieval fantasy vibe along with the actual layout and environment of things being loosely based on the actual maps of the dsmp!

What kinds of dragons are there?

At the moment just wyvern style dragons, a lot of my inspiration for the dragons comes from House of the Dragon as well as the works of Sawyer Lee (Sawyerleearts on insta/da he has some AMAZING work)! Effectively all the same 'species' of fire breathing beast but they all have their own unique features and looks! Though I am considering maybe adding ice and lightening breathing dragons as a fun little reference to the Ice & Fire mod - not much would change design wise, just kinda mixing up the breath abilities if I do go with that.

Also have some of my current concepts (newest to oldest, since I'm still in the process of changing designs)

Is dragon riding widely accepted?

Dragons in this case are rare, and dragon riders are rarer - when dragon riders usually come about they become part of a kingdom's greater military force or some similar high standing rank. Dragons are tickets to power if you don't already have it pretty much, they are after all the fantasy equivalent of a multi use nuclear weapon! Though there are some outliers who have dragons but don't align with either kingdom in the realm, these being sell swords/mercenaries like Punz or just lords who wish to remain independent and not everyone uses them for war. In general I'd say it's a very respected position to have.

Can anyone do it or is it only a select few? How do people get their dragons?

The criteria for someone to bond with a dragon varies a bit, pretty much anyone can bond and develop a link with a hatchling - if the wyrmling imprints on them after hatching it's a free ticket pretty much! Though hatching dragon eggs is not easy, and the hatch rates of them are very low. The other option to get a dragon is claiming a wild one. Bonding with wild dragons though, is more difficult, no one is exactly sure how it's done but the rider usually has to have some recessive magic genes effectively (magic is a long dead art but remnants of it's influence remain, i.e potions & enchantments). When it comes to claiming a wild dragon what also matters is the dragon also choosing and accepting the rider, things can turn a bit- nasty if they decline the bond. Gaining a dragon is in general no easy feat, adding onto that sort of instant status boost dragon riders can gain if they succeed in getting one!

---

Thank you for the questions btw!!! It thoroughly made my day to see a full list of stuff to answer about this project ^^

[ingravinoveritas]

Why can not David just be a good actor and a good human being in your "discourse"? He cannot just play gay/ambiguous because he's a trained actor, he has to BE gay irl, there's no other explanation. He cannot wear the NB pin and be an outspoken ally because he's a good human and has always felt the unfairness of the situation, no, it means he's GAAAAY and maybe NB irl. Don't you see how you refuse his agency in your desire to objectify and imagine his sexuality as you'd like it to be?

(The Anon above is responding to this post, but I thought I would group these together since we now also have the picture of David wearing his new Pride pin.)

Hello, Anon. I realize I'm a few weeks late in responding (to this and many other Anons still waiting in my inbox), but we are still in the last few days of Pride month, as we've recently seen, so I thought I'd take a moment and address this.

First of all, I have not once anywhere on my blog ever said that David is gay, so I am not sure why you are putting words in my mouth, but doing so does nothing to help your already flimsy case. I think it's also worth noting that I am not the only one who has made the observations I have, as I've had countless people of all sexual orientations/gender identities say these things to me over DM, things many of them are afraid to say publicly because of people like you.

Secondly, it is very obvious to me that you did not at all listen to David's appearance on that podcast where he talked about Pride Month, because if you had, you would know that your attitude is the exact same type of phobic mindset he was talking about fighting against on the playground in primary school. It's the very fact that you are "defending" him from something that doesn't inherently need defending from that is the entire point that you seem to be missing. Further, when I have talked about David's sexuality, I am basing my thoughts on things David has actually said and put out into the universe, which you by contrast seem determined to ignore in favor of projecting who you think David is onto him, which seems far more like removing his agency than what you've accused me of doing. I also do not believe I am "objectifying" David's sexuality in any way, because for me, I do not care if David is straight, bi, gay, whatever--I just want him to be happy and feel that he can be free to be who he really is.

The other point of yours with which I strongly take issue is that you are trying to shove David into a narrow box when that is the very thing he was speaking against in that podcast. According to your words, he can either be a good human/actor or he is bi/enby, which gives the impression that these things are somehow mutually exclusive. My question to you is, why can't he be both? Why can't David be a good human/actor AND queer himself? What if what makes him such a good ally is that he is bi or enby and has experienced such difficulties with his identity and now wants to protect his child and others from going through something similar? And if that is the case, I'm not sure why you think that would be so awful as to resort to leaving mocking messages in my inbox.

To the points made by @hunterofartemisblog: I am so, sorry for what you went through. No child should experience something like that, let alone from a parent. I fully concur with you, however--we could speculate about David's (and Michael's) sexuality until the cows come home, but the one thing we can say for certain is that David and Michael (and Georgia) are incredible supporters of the LGBTQ+ community. Michael has been outspoken about his support for years, but I feel like David has become much more vocal in just the last year, and it is beautiful to see. Indeed, how lucky so many of us would be to have such support in our lives--from a parent, a friend, or anyone who loves and cares about us.

When I looked closely at this picture yesterday, I felt as though I could see tiredness and worry in David's eyes--which, again, could be for any number of reasons. My hope is that if he is bi or enby, that David has someone in his life to give him that support, who is letting him know that it is okay to be exactly who he is and that he is safe with them.

Clearly, there is still a lot of judgment awaiting David and/or all LGBTQ+ people who decide to be open about themselves, which may be one of the reasons why it's so hard to do exactly that. As Pride month draws to a close, I hope we can all think about how we can unlearn our own preconceived ideas about gender and sexuality--whether well-intentioned-but-misguided or outright harmful--and make this world safer for queer folks everywhere.

[officeobject]

Xanderverse vent thing I made:

I at times wonder if I HAVE TO, publish whatever stories I have, onto there -

Like, I do post about the Xanderverse, but I'm nervous about publishing stories, especially the more extreme ones ... also, yeah, it's weird AF to have a real life version of a character - I mean, I would often makes jokes or theories or just talk about the possibility of that - as Xanderverse characters are sometimes based on multiple people or traits, and are made to be so real they might as well exist! I've only had people agree on that, and I have NO IDEA how, LOL, and yeah, I wondered about if whomever I talked to could be one of them IRL (quickly I'd realize that no, but I suspended my disbelief), and I would wonder how much they'd have in common, or if there'd be any of them at all - maybe I made characters too unrealistic to be real, or so specific or detailed, that the real life counterpart, would have plenty of differences - and sure, I haven't MET, this one person, but it's been a year, and ALMOST a year in regards to them noticing me TOO, and I don't know their home life, romantic and sexual orientations, past, last name, etc, but they're exactly like the character, and we have that same relationship, and they're happy - WE'RE happy ...

More:

Also, I have this really annoying fear, which is that me posting a lot about the Xanderverse or whatever, will make people think I'm doing that as advertisement, or because I'm the CREATOR, and that it's because I wanna let everyone know about it, or shove it in their faces about how amazing the Xanderverse is, or because I'm jealous that OTHER things get more popular, and yes I get really sad and jealous, and yes I want more people, but I just post a lot because I'm a person who gets a lot of thoughts, and I think the Xanderverse is super fun, and it was created with the purpose of being a safespace for me - like, none of those feelings of competin' that I'd get, from some OTHER fandoms, and yeah, emotions like jeaousy, can motivate me to make more posts, continue working on stories, listen to more music to inspire myself, etc, but TODAY for example, I ended up hearing a song, and I just suddenly got inspired, JUST because I happened to listen to music, and started on a story, that seems kinda new, and it seems fun, and I'm having fun making it - sometimes I just wanna cope, sometimes I just wanna write my enemies suffering, sometimes I just wanna see a character be put in a situation and the DRAMA, and some characters get more stuff about them, some I talk more about, etc, even though everyone is technically more important, and it's weird and boring and lonely to be the only one excited and making stuff and talking about it, but I still continue, and one of my favorite things - and trust me, there is SO MANY things I love, that are related to the Xanderverse - is to see people get joy/benefit from it, and to also see it become real, which also makes it more interactive - so, like, I've especially been posting about one specific character for maybe a year now, because he has that real-life counterpart - it's also hard for me to consider if I should post/should make a post about him or THEM, since I haven't met THEM, but they're exactly like the character, but also PRIVACY, but also, I haven't confirmed a way that our relationship STARTED, though it did - like, we are canonically friends, same way as IRL.

Yeah but like I also want fame and stuff, LOL - I also sometimes think, that if I meet IRL dude over there, and they get Tumblr, and I start posting about them, and THEY do some blogging, that maybe we'd have more people - I ALSO wonder who else is out there ... is that a bad thing? Also, I keep switching between telling myself that NO, that character isn't real, and that person is a COMPLETELY SEPERATE THING, to "yeah I know them, I've known them for a year now, they're literally that character".

(I accidentally didn't save the last part, which was mainly just what Manifique Gerald has in common with his IRL counter-part, FECK - well, except actually, now I can just make it even MORE detailed! YAY)!

[enkisstories]

Mutiny on the Steadfast - a Star Wars story

I just posted chapter 7 of Mutiny on the Steadfast. Recap: The First Order brainwashed Poe Dameron into thinking is one of their officers, Rose and Finn are captured on the Steadfast and Hux, who came up with the brainwashing plan in the first place, is on parole after his treason.

I'm going to post the chapter in two parts on this blog, too.

Chapter 7, Part 2, sees Hux interact with Rose and Finn in unexpected ways.

“There our knight in the shining armor comes!” Finn snarked, when General Hux entered the cell. The prisoner had expected some level of objection, but he hadn’t been prepared for Hux to verbally explode into his direction:

“Don’t start me on chivalry! Courage and honor are inventions of the physically strong, so that they can dictate the rules of an engagement! Allowing only the methods they excel at ensures their victory!”

“You’re coherent…” Finn stammered. “Now we need to work on a little something called situational appropriateness.”

Hux’ eyes narrowed, but he kept his tongue in check. He really needed to learn to not react to everything the rebels stammered. Or to yell “I’m the spy” in a room with security cameras in, for that matter.

“I brought you some provisions”, the General proclaimed while putting down the backpack. “Use them… situation-appropriately.”

The merest hint of a smile accompanied Hux’ words. But was it directed at the prisoners or rather at himself for the oh-so clever retort?

In those circles where he wasn’t outright dismissed as a crybaby, Hux had the reputation of a normally calculated, stone cold man, who was overwhelmed the moment an emotion got a drop on him. Truth was that he was possessed of a rational form of empathy. Armitage knew that, yes, this sucks, is an undesirable state and should therefore get changed. But he felt no sympathy for the person in the undesirable situation and very little compassion only. Hux just couldn’t copy their feelings onto himself, or maybe he could have done so, but saw little reason to. After all, that process wouldn’t enable him to render aid more efficiently, to the contrary. And so young Hux had turned his attention towards the world at large, decided to shape it in a way that eradicated as much suffering as possible. Although so far everything he had achieved was eradicating solar systems along with their population.

“Why did you call Hux a knight?” FN-11 demanded to know while the goods were taken out of the bag and sorted. In all other circumstance he’d already forgotten that greeting, but seeing all three of the former prisoners – two of them hostages now and the third on parole – huddle together didn’t sit well with the stormtrooper captain.

Finn replied without looking at the asker: “Because he’s as pleasant to have around as a Knight of Ren!”

“I don’t think so. Especially not after having seen and smelled their armor in person.”

“Alright, so it was a bad analogy. I wasn’t trained to come up with…”

“You’ve been in here before!” FN-11 tossed at Hux.

“Yes. For quite some time, too. You arrested me not so long ago.”

“Don’t play coy! You know what I meant!”

Hux carefully put the package with the painkillers he had been holding down on his now unoccupied bed, then got up. This was the kind of talk where you’d wanted to make use of those five centimeters height advantage that you had over your conversation partner.

“Technically I didn’t visit the prisoners. I sent IT-08 with a powder of acetyl-salicylic acid hidden in his chassis. Nobody paid attention to a torture droid going on about his business on the detention level.”

“The patrols should…”

“But they didn’t! That’s the beauty of an IT. Even those on the same side they are on avoid them whenever they can.” Hux words were followed by a pause, a grin and then an afterthought: “Amazing little critters!”

“You bastard!” FN-11 gasped.

Unsure what would happen next, Finn and Rose sped up the unpacking process. They shoved everything either under or onto one Finn’s cot. Later they’d hide the fruit juice, the painkillers, patches, gel pads and assorted other provisions in the cell’s locker, but they couldn’t do this just yet, while FN-11 was watching. Hux had conveniently neglected to reveal that IT-08 had also delivered the key to the locker during his visit. The guards would not check it during their routine controls, since they had no reason to assume the cell’s inmates had access to that storage.

While FN-11 was busy communicating with the prison deck’s captain to change security clearance for certain droid models, all the whole casting angry glances at Hux through his visor, Rose flashed the General a grin.

“How was your morning?”

Hux didn’t contest or confirm the “morning” to the prisoners in their out of time bubble. He simply answered:

“Terrible. I ran into Kandia, a school trip and the masked hero all in the span of ten minutes.”

The man’s chest rose and sank in a sigh. Afterwards FN-11 noticed his General relax his muscles in a way he’d never seen him do before. Letting go… mentally leaning on… That was what the First Order as a whole was for, not a group of individuals, least of all enemies! But here the General was, feeling a load drop off his heart after having spoken that one sentence to Tico and Finn. Relaxed, his arms slid on his back into his favorite pose almost without conscious decision. But while they moved, they brushed against something that Hux had tucked away under his coat.

“Oh, right!” he remembered. There was one more present to deliver, and he handed it directly to Rose:

“Here. For the end of the month.”

When Rose hesitated to accept the package, Hux murmured: “Wrong kind?”

“No, these’ll do perfectly! I’m just…” Now Rose grabbed the package and put it on the pile behind her. “…baffled. For to think of this need, you had to put yourself into someone else’s shoes.”

Haughtily the enemy General replied: “You may call it empathy, but anticipating the enemy’s actions by analyzing their emotional state is part of my job as a strategist.”

“Yes, only until now you sucked at that part!”

“Pfft.”

“Anything else?” FN-11 prodded.

“Matter of fact, yes.”

“Why am I not surprised? Alright, Sir, go on playing Flower Wookie!”

“Flower what?” Rose looked from one First Order officer to the other and then to Finn, whose blood had shot into his head at the mention.

“The simple-minded, yet amiable Flower Wookie delivers small presents on Life Day”, Finn quoted what he had once written down in his school book. “The boxes are topped with a bloom and the kind of flower reveals whether the gift is meant romantic, platonic, for a rival and even what emotional state it was given in. It’s a nice custom, only the Wookie thing...”

“You didn’t know any better”, Rose reassured the friend.

“Myself I’m a bit less fond of Wookies than I was as a kid, too”, Hux commented, then handed Rose a broad rubber band. It was covered with a mossy green cloth that sported a vine pattern. Green being Rose’s favorite color Hux had learned from Poe’s toothbrush re-arrangement rebellion, the exact shade she liked he had (correctly) guessed, so that part didn’t come as a surprise. The object itself, however… It took Rose a while to recognize it as what it was. Constant war, fear and challenges had made it so that something as simple as a hairband looked out of place, an exotic item among the death machinery.

“A scissor would have been as readily available, but if for whatever reason you prefer to keep your hair as a liability, then you should at least tame it a little.”

“You think of everything in terms of advantage and disadvantage, huh?” Rose asked while raising her arms to apply the hairband. Finn moved in to help and for a moment their hands touched. Being in here together just the two of them and with Poe having suffered an uncertain fate, Rose had expected her previous infatuation with Finn to flare up again, making this touch awkward. But it didn’t. Why? What was it that enabled Rose to cuddle freely with Finn in the way of friends? The high chance that both of them would die soon at the First Order’s hands? The memory of Poe?

Hux’ retort interrupted the rebel’s train of thought:

“I won’t resent me being me just because a rebel doesn’t approve.”

“Huh”, Rose uttered, forcing down the “Or a Supreme Leader?” she had wanted to reply. But the stormtrooper captain was eying the prisoners’ unlikely ally with way too much disdain already. It was all over FN-11’s body language, not concealable anymore even by a helmet, armor and decades of living as a somewhat autonomous weapon of the First Order.

“I’ve got something else of you, your twin sun pendant”, Hux revealed hastily. “Can’t give it back yet, otherwise they’d steal it again.”

“And we’d also learn that you can break into the evidence stash”, FN-11 added. Finn and Rose could almost see him roll his eyes.

Hux spoke on: “There also was a ring among your belongings. I don’t know what its significance is, but am safekeeping it.”

“Poe wore a ring on a chain around his neck”, Finn supplied.

Hux then knew that he couldn’t give this particular object back. Unwanted memories might get sparked. There was one little fact, however, that he felt save – as well as obligated - to reveal:

“Poe is alive, and helping us win this war.”

The other two pictured their friend hooked up to a machine that extracted his expertise at these words.

“Win this war?” Finn flared up. “Just when I thought you couldn’t grow any more delusional… Have you thought about what will happen after the victory? When you two have outlived your usefulness to the First Order? Just look at Captain Eleven here! I can read body language beneath stormtrooper armor and he’s something like ten seconds from locking you in here together with us!”

“I better not do that”, FN-11 said with a chuckle, for he had reached the point where he either had to laugh at this display or start smashing furniture from frustration. “He’d enjoy it far too much.” Directed at Hux, the man barked: “I don’t know what to make of you!”

Feet planted firmly onto the ground, the sharp sting in his upper leg none withstanding, hands crossed on his back and his chin raised confidently, Hux spoke up:

“It is as I said: We have to seize control. The Resistance isn’t our most dangerous enemy. The Sith are. As are the senior Imperials. Everyone who is just out for power for themselves. It’s time to return to… Do you remember our founder?”

“The Grand-Admiral who was big on courage and honor, you mean?”

Hux shook his head. He could think of an answer, and was certain that it would have been a good one. But if he allowed FN-11 to push him into the reacting role now, he’d already have lost.

“Trenay, listen and when I’ve said my piece, I order you to decide where you stand in this!”

“Amuse me!”

It was better than the day the back then young commandant had ordered Trenay to “not obey my next order”. An order to disobey… Disobedience could get one into trouble. But there was no way to avoid disobedience in this case. Whatever teenaged Trenay would have picked, he’d violated either young Hux’ first or his second order, what would have earned him a punishment either way. Just because a whim had stricken the younger boy, drunk on his power!

Or had he been… afraid? Had little Armitage been aware that his command power was borrowed only? That he was living or dying by the adults’ whims, despite his elevated rank? If the intent had been to pull the ground from under Trenay’s feet and teach him how that felt, it had worked. And after three decades Hux was still pretty good at it.

“Without order, the strong will just take what they want, do whatever they want to others. The charming ones will do it less violently, but to the same effect. My point stands: There has to be a law, it has to cover every aspect of life and it has to be feared. Is that something you can get behind?”

“I never lived by another credo!”

“Then nothing else I do should matter to you.”

“Hm…”

“But it should matter very much!” Rose protested. “One can’t “put the galaxy right” by destroying planets! Or whatever it is that you’re doing to Poe!”

“A spirited one, are you?” Hux sneered. He licked his lips and took a step closer to the rebel, hoping that FN-11 wouldn’t notice how he was play-acting. Hux pulled Rose closer to him, held her tight and buried his head in her hair. Predictably she squirmed and spat curses at the man that got muffled by Hux’ uniform jacket.

“Poe is fine”, Hux whispered, in the hopes that FN-11 wouldn’t overhear what he was revealing.

“What?”

“He’s alive and well. Can’t go into detail now. We look out for each other, he’s amazing!”

Rose tried to shove Hux away, but all she accomplished was pushing herself away from the larger man. The result was similar enough to the intended one, only involving a little more staggering.

The rebel looked at Hux in a mix of anger and fascination.

“What game are you playing? What’s real about you?”

But the man was just standing there, every inch the General. Haughty, full of himself. Had everything he’d done in here just been a demonstration of self-confidence? To get FN-11 and with him the Steadfast’s stormtroopers on his side in an upcoming coup? It looked like it, and it seemed to have worked, because the captain’s stance changed in not so subtly ways.

There were no elections in the First Order. But Trenay “FN-0011” had picked his leader anyway.

[makotonaegi]

some essays to add 2 this

1.) this makes me better understand those were WAY smaller and ended up not having a brand developed, a team devised on how to push their creation, just the singular artists who jumped onto the nft train when it was riding high. everyone massively disliked you for doing it, but you have already still your .obj files, your drafts and scribbles you can quickly shove together and devise a way to hue-shift it however many times you need and to edit additional accessories easily. think: this is post peak popularity for funko and i’m betting maybe at least if you were lucky to table or feature your items through a nice reseller anywhere, you probably only just got to take home one less. that big money, and a promise to get it quick would solve SO much. so i get it. but i don’t agree. those don’t go hand in hand.

2.) i kind of get really sad because there’s an additional thing that’s coming up but this is out of respect to artists in general. a lot of a new thing has come up, and with blogging your lives more visually now more than ever, the new trend of unboxing videos is still a frequent wave, supporting getting little trinkets and maybe hey! your art if you got over all the hurdles to devise an entire BLIND SET, you could get people to finally get a hold of your work again! but here’s what can happen with that: you might have them only buy it to see what’s in it, and then who knows what happens? sure you made your money. i guess there’s that but i kind of wonder about the respect to what you made. this comes into the second part. are they crediting it to you? are they telling everyone at least your name so they know that you made this, and that if they like your art so much, they can find more if they wanted to? i feel like that part quickly can be cast aside for other things to fit the time frame. once again, i know that sometimes the transaction is enough just so that way you’ve made it back to make more, but i would like to know if people liked my stuff to find more.

3.) with #2, i think it’s gotten really easy to conflate what you’ve made with a regular toy that you can get at like what, target? the age of people who like what you made isn’t an issue! it’s that these are delicate materials not meant to be played with! and those are! but yet i’m seeing actual toys made and developed from design conception to manu being reserved and only eyed from the same childrens’ eyes and yet the art toy is played with and then potentially broken. anyone can enjoy art, but these materials aren’t safe for children, they’re really fragile and some of the paints might come off if handled too much like that. we need to have some people weaned off fandom (ie buying a blind funko pop(?) VS mystery squishable) to be able to give kids differentiation on what is a toy to play with and what’s a toy to appreciate art in a smaller, visual 3D space.

i said it before about konatsuya’s nekogora.

in the end i think it is okay to enjoy it no matter how you will. but i wish that it was with respect to the artist name and with acknowledging the work put into these handmade items. anyone can like art, i just wish that we can all enjoy it again somehow. a little bit easier

kind of sad theres so little documentation of things made before funko. but i get it. it was a small circle of you and your friends who loved to make things. and if anyone else wanted to enjoy it, cool! but it was just for us. until funko happened

i guess it’s a little hard to keep track because it was on such a small scale you figured the most important thing at the time was mostly to have fun more than anything. i think today we can revitalize it by sending a message that funko can’t be the only one around. it’s just hard when the world is too fast moving; faster than your hands can show appreciation.

[mintymarabell]

Just found your blog, love it! Great content bud, keep it up! Do have a simple request.

An elder yautja and his human s/o who was willing to earn him new trophies. Like, they spend all their time with this yautja, they'd know how to hunt like the yautja. If the elder doesn't hunt anymore, maybe they could?

And one day, they show up after being gone for a while, with a shiny xeno skull for their mate.

An anon requested something similar so I'm gonna kind of combine them both together. “Hello! Just wanted to say that I love your writing, and all the creativity and effort that u put on your work💞and that this is my first time requesting something, even if you don't answer me or the request I would be happy knowing that u read my thoughts about your writing ☺️Could u write about s/o who (miraculously) killed a Xenomorph on their own and gives the head of the alien to the Yautja as a show of strength/proud moment but the yautja is like "are they trying to court me??? Yes. I accept. Everyone look at my human (blooded) mate" (can be male/female/gender neutral for the Yautja, i love them all✨)” <-- other request.

Running off to get your elder yautja a skull

You’d had always wanted to prove yourself to him, he always appeased your human relationship rituals. Maybe it was time to do something for him?

He had taught you how to fight, using your smaller form to your advantage, this was one of the many things he loved about you when you’d use him to pivot yourself up and around.

You were ready to take down a kiande amedha, only problem is getting away from your mate.

He loved you and didn’t really like you going out on your own without him around, so this was going to be quite the task

It was passed midnight, your mate was long passed out with his arm wrapped around your waist. You pulled at his arm, he gave you a grunt in response as he pulled you closer to his body, “I wanna get some water let me up.” That's all it took as he retracted his arm and rolled over. All you had to do was very quickly put your armor on, the same armor he gifted you when you had mentioned his armor looking nice. The task was tedious, the armor was not meant to be put on by yourself, your mate most likely did this just so he can have the intimacy of being close as he did not struggle putting his on. 

Your mate at some point walked into the kitchen where you were, you had to throw a blanket around your body as you pretended to be rummaging for a cup. He grumbled as he handed you a very large glass and walked back into your shared bedroom. You filled the glass and set it on the counter as you finished getting dressed. From there you borrowed his netgun and combistick, the combistick was awkward to hold fully extended, the weight of it almost pulling you to the ground but it would have to do. 

You walked over to door and snagged your coat off the hanger. You didn’t need to be seen in armor by your mates servants who frequently cleaned the building you lived in.

You walked past one of them, they greeted you and went back to carry a box off.

Finally making it outside you made a break for it, shoving a mask onto your face and running for a nearby airport. Your mate had spoke of a newly blooded party going off to exterminate a hive they were using it as a test to let the newly find hives, it was simple all you had to do was get one off to the side and kill it. 

Easier said than done though, you had snuck on the ship successfully the ship had arrived at the planet after an hour. By now your mate was probably looking around frantically for you, you could almost hear him now. 

No one questioned the smaller ‘yautja’ walking around, not even the elder who was in charge of the party took a second glance at you as you weaved past him toward the ships opening doors. The only difference in your armor vs your mates was that you had no invisibility, so as soon as the doors opened you yelled for the others to follow along as you bolted toward the hive. You were the only one who knew where it was, the perks of being an elders mate. 

All of the other yautja looked at each other before shrugging and following along. The elder face palmed as he watched the party scurry off. 

You just needed them to kill the hive, all you needed was one head.

Arriving at the hive the yautja sprung into action, a bleach smell was in the air as acidic blood was drawn. You watched a bigger xenomorph come out with, you whistled and caught its attention. The xeno was quick to follow you away from the others.

You stood in front of it as it hissed, showing off sharp teeth. You shot your mates netgun at its leg, catching onto the hard flesh the acid burning through the metal. You needed to work fast, you fan toward it using its leg to jump up and hit it in its mouth, piercing the head like tongue that laid in its mouth. The xenomorph screamed as he threw you across the forest, landing near a tree. 

You taunted the xenomorph until eventually it ran toward you, you stood there as it got closer and closer till just at the last minute you kneeled down going through its legs, the kiande amedha was punctured by a sharp branch you landed near. It yelled as it thrashed. You stuck your combistick into its neck, hitting its jugular acidic blood sprayed onto you, you screamed as the acid ate at your exposed skin. You quickly wiped the blood off on a near by tree. You cut the head off, letting the blood drain before walking back to the ship. Each yautja has a head of their own though theirs is smaller than yours which is kind of odd..

Arriving back to prime you walked out of the ships doors, walking all the way back home with your little present wrapped in a silk the elder had given everyone. You were on the street, just about to walk through the glass doors when you heard your name. 

Turning around you were met with your mate running through the crowd, he pushed some kid over and threw some poor young blood out of his way. He practically threw himself at you, getting down on his knees burying his masked face into your neck. “Where have you been? I’ve been worried sick.” He speed walked you both to your shared room. He pulled you at arms length examining your person up and down for any injuries, noticing the burns. “Why do you have kiande amedha burns?” You shuffled away. “Give me ten minutes and Ill tell ya.” He nods with a huff, watching you practically run to his trophy room.

He didn’t notice the big bag you carried, more worried about you. You pulled out the items necessary to melt the flesh away, spraying the white mist onto the head as it all corroded into nothing.

 You wrapped the skull back up in the silk and walked out of the room, your mate waiting for you on the couch where he was man spreading staring at your form walk toward him. You kneeled down in between his legs as you fumbled with the silk. “I thought because we are mates that maybe I should get this for you as a gift, since your always getting me things.” You pulled the skull out and offered it up toward him, looking down to the ground.

He took it from your hands, as you looked up he admired the skull, flipping it around. He set it aside, pulling you up into his lap. “Thank you mate I am grateful for this gift but please do not do something like that again, I can’t stand to see you get hurt.” His thumb grazed over your burns, watching as you winced. 

From there he mounted the skull on a shelf near his side of the bed. As you both laid in bed, his head on your chest he spoke, “mate, may I ask you something?” You hummed in response, he finally spoke, “how did you manage to kill a queen?”

So that's why your xeno’s head was bigger..

On a side note, imagine a big 9ft yautja full on sprinting toward you?

[buckys-little-belle]

ummm … can we get maybe a steve harrington x shy!reader again? maybe more of a situation at school and dustin calls steve really worried and that he needs to come help the reader? maybe they got a bad mark or something and broke down?

Wavy

Steve Harrington x Little!Reader (They/Them Pronouns)

Warnings - Reader gets anxious over a test, talks of ‘chest’ feeling, aka an anxious weight on their chest, reader eats a candy cane.

Notes - This is short, but I feel like there’s hardly any Steve Harrington x Little!Reader out there and I really want to work on changing that! He’s such an obvious caregiver for those around him, and I just feel like he deserves the spotlight in the category.

SFW - Please keep all interactions with this post, and this blog, SFW.

- - - - - - -

The school day had been perfectly calm, up until english class, the teacher reminding the students about their test, on their class book, that day. Y/n was prepared, they had read the book in and out of class, front to back, upside down even, they knew what to do, the answers to all of the questions. But by the time the bell rang, letting the students know to move onto lunch, Y/n began to feel weird, their chest feeling heavy, as the stress from the test creeped in late.

Their books and pencils were quickly shoved into their backpack, the zipper half zipped, their sweater folded over their arm messily. Tears started to creep up on them, their hands hastily whipping them away as they fell. Before they knew it they were stood in front of the pay phone outside the school, students walking past to eat on the field and leave for the few minutes they had.

Y/n had slipped at least ten minuets ago into little space, the stress triggering their coping mechanism and helping sooth their thoughts, but the weird feeling in their chest stayed, and felt heavier and heavier, seemingly moving when they breathed. “Oh c’m on!” Y/n whisper yelled, their quarter falling from their hand before they could get it into the machine.

It took a few more tries, but eventually things worked themselves out, that was until Steve’s number was completely lost on Y/n, the numbers non existent in their mind. “Hey!” Dustin called from behind them, when they turned Dustin saw the distraught look on their face. Steve told him Y/n might need help at school sometimes, remembering where things were, or what class they had next when little, but right now they seemed like a fish out of water, and Dustin felt the same. “Are you okay?” He asked.

“No.” Y/n cried. “I needa call Stevie but I don’ ‘meber his number, ‘n it ate my money, I feel wavy, ‘n ‘m scared” Their sobs continued, tears free falling at this point.

“That’s okay.” Dustin tried not to freak out, reaching into his bag to pull out a small pencil case filled with things from Steve. A few quarters for Y/n emergency calls, a couple candies, bandaids, just things that Steve wanted to make sure were available. “I can call him. Here.” Dustin said, handing Y/n a candy cane, the arched treat one of their favourites, one Steve bought the whole town out of when christmas came so that Y/n would be happy all year round.

“Tanks.” They smiled, opening the candy right away, their tears still slowly rolling down their cheeks, their nose stuffy.

“Hey!” Dustin cheered on the phone, pointing to it and smiling so Y/n could see his happiness before turning to freak out. “Y/n needs you, I think they are dying, not dying, just not doing great, what does ‘I feel wavy mean? I gave them a candy cane, this is stressful, how do you do this? You know I have some toys at home, I should bri-“

“Put them on the phone Henderson.” Steve practically screamed.

“Right, sorry, here.” Dustin mumbled. “Y/n, Steve wants to talk to you.”

Y/n grabbed the phone, holding it to their ear. “Stevie?” They whispered.

“Hi Bean.” He cooed. “What’s wrong?”

“I feel wavy.” They sobbed, their hand once again whipping away their tears.

“I know, you’re feeling anxious huh Bean?” He asked, already grabbing his keys and getting ready to leave.

“Mhm.” Y/n was still crying, the emotions and lack of hug to much to handle in their distressed state. “I wan’, I wan’ to g’ home.”

“I know, can you sit with Dustin till I get there? I’m on my way Bean I promise.” He stressed.

“Yah, ‘kay Stevie.” Y/n whispered. “Lobe you.”

“Love you too Bean.”

Y/n hung the phone up, looking to Dustin. “Stevie says to wait for him here.” Y/n frowned.

“Okay?” Dustin half asked, watching Y/n sit in place, eating their candy cane while tears fell down their face, so distressed that he himself felt anxious.

- - - - - -

“Bean?” Steve called out, both Y/n and Dustin’s head turning in his voices direction. “Hi.” He said, his arms held out for a hug.

Y/n ran full throttle, their bag swooshing around on their back, landing in his arms tightly. “Missed you.” They cried.

“I know Bean.” Steve chuckled. “What happened hm?”

“‘s da book test ‘n english.” Y/n said, their words muffled in Steve’s shirt.

Steve just kissed the top of their head, pulling them from his body and sending Dustin a smile and a wave goodbye, the younger boy running off to lunch. “How about we go home?” Steve asked, Y/n’s eyes immediately lighting up. “I brought home some new movies from work I think you might like.” He smiled, Y/n mimicking him.

“‘kay, and ‘nother?” They asked, holding up their half eaten candy cane.

“When you finish that one we can talk.” Steve chuckled, knowing Y/n would fall asleep on the way home before they finished the one in their hand. Which, he was right. Y/n was out cold just a few minutes after leaving the school parking lot, he hoped that the feeling in their chest would fade after their nap, knowing he wouldn’t be able to bear seeing them cry again that day.

[rons-wheezely]

224 || G.W.

George Weasley x Reader, Soulmate AU

Genre: Fluff, humor

Summary: Each soulmate pair receives a special number to them, and them only, on the day they’re born into this world. The placement on the body can vary, so people usually keep to themselves unless they fancy someone or it’s displayed somewhere public. How do you go around explaining to your best friend that he’s the one?

A/N: i have been so inactive, I’m so sorry rip I am going to try to post a fic here and there, but I’m still a student doing student things... This blog recently turned 2 years old, and has reached about 300 followers, so thank you so much for those of you who have found me in the piles of other wonderful works :) I love you all from the bottom of my heart.

--x--

“Oh, do forgive me, Georgie,” you playfully shove him out of the way. He stumbles away from the shelf containing the last package of Fizzing Whizbees in time for you to snatch it into your hands. You hear him chuckle as he regains his balance behind you. It’s suffocatingly crowded with fellow students in Honeydukes, so he leans in close so you can hear him. 

His warm breath comes close to your ear, saying with a soft laugh,” At least share, alright?”

You tapped your chin thoughtfully as the smile plastered on your face turned into a smirk. You make your way to the cashier with George close behind. The candy in the box shake in your hands, and the decorative ring you’re wearing on your middle finger glimmers in the shop’s light. You call over your shoulder,” If you win the next match against Slytherin, I might.” 

This statement alone had George fist pump the air in satisfaction. Even if he lost, you would most likely share it anyways –– to cheer him up, of course. You two have been best friends since your first year when you cleverly evaded one of the twins’ pranks. It was a lucky guess, but the outcome left Fred and George tangled in a mess of burping up slugs for three hours. It was an easy friendship after that, other than the secret feelings you harbored for George, that is. 

Soon enough, the match came and the sight was an absolutely thrilling one. You watch as each player flies by, and each time the wind sweeps your hair in every direction. Fred and George are on a spectacular streak, and they never once miss the bludger. Thankfully you had a pair of binoculars and Lee Jordan’s commentary; the team was so small in the air that it was hard to tell what was happening.

Harry Potter was no doubt going to catch the snitch, and here he comes now swooping in underneath his teammates. He’s almost flat against his broomstick, urging it to go faster before Malfoy could get to the fluttering golden speck. All eyes are on Potter, and the boy is mere inches away. Just as his nimble fingers wrap around the snitch, another Gryffindor teammate drops from the air.

You can hear the subtle gasps from a few in the crowd who noticed. The Gryffindor team were too enraptured with Harry’s catch to notice that one of them was dropping ten, twenty, thirty meters to the ground. “George!” You cried.

As if sending a telepathic message to the other twin, though it is most likely he heard you yell as clear as day, Fred swoops down to save his brother from impact. You notice now that you're standing on your feet and leaning on the railing that separates you from your best friends on the field. You watch on in horror as Fred barely makes it in time. The breath you didn’t know you were holding finally escapes you, and your surroundings come back all at once. 

You hear the deafening silence and the sound of the wind blowing by. No one moves as they watch Fred land on the ground with George. It was Lee who ended the tension,” And with that, Gryffindor earns 130 points and has won the match…” 

All at once, everyone in the stands scrambles to get out. Elated with Harry’s catch and the twins’ safety, the student body goes their separate ways. You follow them as well and weave your way through the crowd to get to Fred and George. Panic fills your lungs, and every fiber in your body screams to make sure they’re okay.

“Fred!” You call out,” Are you two alright?”

“Yeah, no harm done to me,” he sighs,” –– Other than this git. A bludger whacked him straight on the side and he passed out on his ride down.” 

“It looks like it hurts… but it’s nothing Madame Pomfrey can’t handle, right?” You wince. You try to convince yourself that George is just sleeping a very deep, restful sleep.

“I reckon he’ll be fine, y/n.” Fred winks your way with a sly grin. “Visit him lots, yeah?”

Madame Pomfrey refused to let anyone in until she was done running some tests. When she finally let you visit, you rushed to sit next to George’s bedside. He stirred at your frantic movements and opened an eye to see you. “It’s not that bad is it?” He chuckles.

“She said that you’ve broken a few ribs, but you’ll be alright.” You smile. 

George sits up slowly, pretending to be in agonizing pain. You worry for a bit and reach out to him on instinct, but he laughs and tells you he’s okay. His torso is wrapped entirely with gauze over his clothes, and there are a few bandages wrapped around his forearms as well. Pomfrey had drawn a blanket over George earlier, so the white sheet still covered the lower half of his body. A moment goes by, and you hear a soft wheeze leaving George’s lips. “You don’t suppose my soulmate is into beaten up ginger-heads, do you?”

“Well,” you mull over your words. Pretending to take his question seriously, you answer,” they would have if you were Fred..” You laugh a little as you catch the glint in his eyes –– the mischievous one you had grown to love. 

“Oh, if only I looked exactly like that bloke.” He jokes. His head falls a little forward as he laughs. His gaze is drawn to his lap, and if you didn’t know any better, you’d say that he looked like those shy love interests in romantic muggle films. 

You notice that his fiery hair is covering his eyes, and your body compels you to get another glimpse of that wonderful boy’s face. Ever so gently, you reach your hand out and tuck a strand of his hair behind his ear. When your fingers curve around the back of his ear, you notice a few dark marks of what looks like a tattoo. Your eyebrows furrow together in confusion. You go to move more of his hair out of the way, but he turns his eyes to you. 

“Are you getting handsy with me y/n? Tryin’ to make a move, are you?” He smiles, but there is a small panic in his eyes as they frantically search yours. “You could’ve just asked me out, you know.”

“Is that your soulmate mark?” You ask.

“Maybe.”

“Well,” you huff playfully,” I might be able to tell you who your soulmate is. I might cry if your soulmate is Madame Pomfrey, though.”

“Is that a bad thing?” He asks, a playful tone in his voice.

"Georgie, please don’t tell me you have a thing for milfs.”

It takes everything in him to hold back his laughter. George pulls his hair back to reveal the numbers 224 etched behind his left ear. Your breath catches in your throat, but you try to hide your very obvious shock. 224 was a number you knew too well, and seeing that number reflected on your best friend’s skin meant that your deepest feelings were true. It’s okay to be in love with George because now... now there is chance he feels the same way.

Your mark is tattooed on the band of your middle finger, which is usually covered up by jewelry. You fidget with your rings nervously, trying to ground yourself all the while. George doesn’t pay too much attention to it when he says,“Fred has his numbers on his right ear. I might be the right-hand man, but he’s lucky enough to be the right-ear man.”

You laugh at his really bad pun,” Really? Out of all of the ear jokes, you chose that one?” 

“It made you laugh, didn’t it?” He nudges you with his shoulder, and you can’t help but giggle some more.

“Would you like to hear a fun fact?” You ask. You gulp down all of the fear that has started to swallow you whole. You are George’s soulmate. The idea buzzes in your head along with a million other thoughts. George nods for you to continue, and you fight the panicked urge to scream. “...In the muggle world, they have such advanced technology.”

“Yeah, dad would know––” George interjects for a second.

“The numbers 224 actually hold a meaning to them. It’s something like a code–– it’s related to their fancy devices I think? Anyways,” you take a deep breath. You remember vividly the details your friend went to great lengths explaining to you. 

“Your number is all kinds of special, y/n!” Mae beams at you. Her eyes twinkle in an amusing manner as she tries to prove herself. A soft thud could be heard when her hands meet with the common room table, and she quickly jumps to her feet. “Imagine, having such a fantastic number as that!” She exclaims with awe.

“I don’t understand?” You bemusedly remark. Why would numbers hold more meanings beyond your standard soulmate reason?

“My brother loves binary code, a certain muggle science,” she explains,” and he told me a few meanings. One of them being yours! Now, if only fate would tell us who your soulmate was...”

If Mae were in this room, she would be bursting at the seams from pure glee. You look into George’s eyes and say,” ...the numbers actually mean something along the lines of ‘Today, Tomorrow, Forever.’ It has to do with the bond you and your soulmate have together.“

He blinks once or twice before breaking out into a grin,” Okay, can you say it again but,” he emphasizes,” simpler, maybe?

“––it means that your soulmate will love an accident-prone idiot like you forever and always,” You joke halfheartedly.

The familiar gleaming smile he wore after a successful prank creeps up onto his face: one of self satisfaction and deserving of many awards based on looks alone. His smile is much gentler and you almost miss it, but a blush tints the very tips of his cheeks. “Oh? wait ‘till dad finds out that numbers have meanings to muggles. How’d you know all of this anyway?”

“Oh, it’s just something my friend talked to me about.” You dismiss his questioning gaze and clear your throat. Every second that passes makes you more and more anxious being around George, simply just by knowing you two are soulmates. It’s a dream come true, sure. But how do you go around explaining to your best friend that he’s the one?

“Are you alright, y/n?” George asks. “You seem real fidgety. Do you need to go somewhere?”

“Oh–– no, it just that,” you gulp. “Well.. I think left the Fizzing Whizbees back in my dorm room.” You lie. You know it’s in your bag with your other belongings, safely tucked away for later consumption. “Post-game snacks are essential, and I did make a promise.”

“Are you sure you left it there? I thought I saw it in your bag...” He leans over to find your bag, and sure enough, he pulls out the box of candy.

“Oh.” You look at him. There’s an awkward pause before he clears his throat.

“You’ve really got to get yourself together mate–– looks like Nearly Headless Nick showed you his neck hole again or something.” George jokes to lighten the mood, but he’s right. The longer you sit there and stare at him, the more you either want to slam your lips against his or vomit profusely. You feel pale and sickly; just enough to feel the twists and turns of your stomach. Is this what having butterflies feel like? He opens the bag of candy and offers you some.

You share the box of whizbees with him, taking one out and popping them into your mouth. It fizzes and jolts a little as the sweet taste melts on your tongue. “I think maybe Fred slipped something to me earlier,” you avert your gaze,” I’m not sure.”

“Yeah, sounds like Fred.” George grabs your hand and looks you in the eyes. He’s rubbing soothing circles on your hands, and it does seem to relax some of your nerves. He looks at you softly and gently, and all at once, your anxiety starts to melt away in his presence. You almost forget why you’re so worried in the first place. “You know I’m not going anywhere. If you have to take a massive shit, I’ll wait for you.” He says as he pats your hand reassuringly.

You erupt into laughter and shove him away. “And here I thought we were having a moment.”

“Nothing says true love like bowl movements, darling.”

As the laughter dies down, the somber feeling in your gut returns. It’s now or never, right? “George, I think I need to tell you something. I—“

Fred bursts into the door with Lee following shortly behind. “There’s my favorite twin!” He beams. He gets a disapproving look from Madame Pomfrey peering around the corner from her office. Fred doesn’t pay much attention, choosing to walk past her with barely a glance over his shoulder. George rolls his eyes as Fred happily trots over, spilling some liquid from two mugs in his hands. “—had to have Lee help sneak these in for the party, which you lot are missing out on.” He hands you a mug of butter beer and George, the other.

You decide to drop the subject even after George was free from the hospital bed. It’s a few weeks since then, and school has made you push those thoughts of pesky soulmates and true love aside. Of course, George kept looking at you funny, waiting for you to bring it up again. To his dismay, you didn’t.

“Alright everyone, class is dismissed.” Professor Sprout announces as she busies herself in setting up plants for the next day. It’s the last class of the day, and you couldn’t be happier. Repotting plants was hard work, and you were sweaty enough as it is. Beads of sweat dripped down the side of your face, and as much as you hated it, it did make for good eye candy across the room — namely George, although there’s a lot of dirt smudged onto his face too.

He’s cleaning up rather quickly so you call out to him,” Can you grab my rings, Georgie? They’re over there by my bag.” You had to remove jewelry in order to “safely handle” the creatures and wear proper gloves. Those of which you hastily pull off to wash your hands. The suds come and go as you lather and rinse away in the sink.

“Today, tomorrow, forever eh?” George’s deep voice rumbles in your ear. You jump a little at the sudden scare. “I think I like the sound of that, don’t you?”

You turn your head a little to the side and come very close to George’s face. You can feel his breath fanning on your skin, and his nose is just barely touching yours. You fear that if you blink, the sight in front of you will vanish. Every freckle that glitters his skin is so close you could count them like the stars and draw constellations between them if you wanted to. It’s absolutely breathtaking. Your body feels like it’s on a cloud— so feather light and airy— as he smiles at you. Your throat is dry; your tongue struggles to keep up with your thoughts. “...what?” You choke out. You cover your hands on impulse, but you know it’s too late.

“It means you’re stuck with me forever, y/n.” He grins. “Soulmate magic is no joke, you know.” He hands you your rings and walks beside you out of the greenhouse. You slip the rings on to your middle finger where it’s always resided, deciding to fidget with it a little.

Nothing should be different. You’re walking with George in the hallways like you always do, your hair is no different than yesterday, and class was the same as an other day. And yet your heart is beating faster and the sun seems to shine brighter. The grass is greener and the lake bluer than it was this morning. Words remain unspoken, but the truth is there. His fingers are interlocked with yours. 224.

[jus-a-lil-mouse]

The Joy and the Grief of It

A companion to @this-is-z-art-blog ‘s piece for Day 2 of Crossover Danuary (being run by @amorpho)! Check it out here!

On Valerie’s thirteenth birthday, she wakes up to something hard under her pillow. When she moves the pillow out of the way to get a look at it, she’s shocked to find an egg-shaped something underneath. It’s bigger than her hand, but not by much, and a soft orange, with a pastel orange slice pattern on it.

She assumes it’s a toy from her Dad, given early as a surprise, though why he put it under her pillow is beyond her. And why he got her a toy when she’s a teenager now - Dads.

She gets ready, putting on her necklace (it was her mother’s) and her outfit (gotten while shopping with Paulina and Star) and her new shoes (a gift from her aunt). She shoves her homework in her bag.

Then she moves back to her bed, picking up the toy, and-

“It’s… warm.” Not uncomfortably so, but it almost feels alive. She puts it in her backpack, tucking it safely in the side pocket. When she goes downstairs, her Dad has made her pancakes in the shape of a smile, and she forgets to mention it to him.

Valerie forgets about the toy egg entirely, swept up at school with classes and a math test and Tucker Foley’s chemistry lab catching on fire. It’s not until she’s at lunch, between Paulina and Kwan, poking at what’s supposed to be lasagna, that she remembers it. She remembers it because it appears in front of her lunch tray, bouncing up and down. Val’s heart is in her throat and she snatches it before anyone can see it. That’s when she hears the voice, more confident then she could ever be. “From a girl who can’t speak up to a girl that everyone loves!”

And then she stands. Not just stands up, but climbs onto her chair, as though her body is no longer hers to control. And then she speaks, with half the cafeteria looking at her, announcing that it’s her birthday today and she’s having a party this weekend and everyone’s invited! But she isn’t and they’re not but everyone is cheering and she can’t deny that it feels nice, to be liked like that.

She is suddenly in control again, and she nearly falls off her chair. Dash steadies her, and Kwan helps her down, and she can’t help it.

She runs.

She doesn’t realize she’s still holding the egg until she’s shut in the bathroom. She sets it on the counter and looks at herself in the mirror. She looks panicked but otherwise normal. She doesn’t look sick, but maybe she should see the nurse? Because that definitely was not normal.

Val reaches up to fiddle with her mother’s necklace. Except it’s not her necklace anymore. It’s got a small orange slice charm on it that Val hasn’t ever seen before in her life. Then, before her eyes, it vanishes, returning to the small circular pendant she’s used to.

“I definitely need to see the nurse,” she breathes.

“No you don’t! That was great!” Val looks to the source of the voice - the same one she heard in the cafeteria - and screams.

“That’s very rude!” the thing says. “And I’m not a thing! My name is Clementine, and I’m here to help!”

The egg is gone, and a small little person has taken its place. Their hair is straightened and they’ve got on little ballet slippers, and they’re all orange-themed. “You what?” Valerie breathes.

The person - Clementine - springs off the bathroom counter, does a little twirl, then curtsies to Val. “My name is Clementine. I’m the person you want to be! Popular, outgoing, and a great dancer. It’s great to finally meet you!”

—

Clementine had gone back into her egg when Paulina told Val that she shouldn’t come to the mall with them if she couldn’t afford it, and Val said they should just do something she could do, and Paulina said that they didn’t want to do something else and Valerie wasn’t being very likable right now, and Val had screamed that she didn’t want anyone to like her if everyone was going to be such a bitch.

Clementine hadn’t even said goodbye, and after more than two years of her hanging around, Val felt lonely.

Val felt so, so lonely.

The next day, when Valerie started looking for part-time jobs, the second egg hatched. It was black with a red triangular symbol on it, and had appeared shortly after Val’s dad lost his job. She and Clementine had spent hours talking about what kind of dream they thought the person inside would represent. Valerie’s first thought as she saw the egg begin to crack was I wish Clementine was here too. How was she supposed to make the new one like her without Clementine’s help?

But Clementine left. So she’d have to do her best.

The egg opened slowly: the first thing Val could see was her eyes, then her face. She looked like Clementine, except for her eye color, but her hair was all natural curls and tied up with a red bandana. When she stepped out of the egg fully - not quite cautious, but not with Clementine’s reckless abandon - Val could see her black and red outfit, sleek and very adult compared to Clementine’s frills.

“Hi,” Val said. “What’s your name?”

“Red.”

—

Valerie has a strict bedtime routine. She washes her face and puts on lotion and covers her hair and then she listens to a 20-minute playlist of her favorite songs while she falls asleep.

The most important part of her routine is before all of that though, when she sits cross-legged on her bed and holds Clementine’s warm egg in her hands and tells her all about her day. Red hangs around and adds in all the little details that Val forgets.

And today when she sits there, it feel like the hardest thing ever, because she knows that tomorrow when she wakes up, Clementine’s egg will be gone.

Her and Red tell the whole story, about finally telling their friends on the Council what they’ve been doing and resolving to do the right thing from here on out. And all of secrets and sneaking has been so hard but it feels good to finally be honest. To get help from people who believe in her. To finally start believing in herself.

Because that’s the core of it; she doesn’t want to be liked by everyone anymore. That dream of a popular girl is gone, and in its place is a dream that one day Valerie will grow into a woman who likes herself. The dream that sustains Clementine started to fade when Valerie pulled away from her friends and now it was finally gone.

Tears are beginning to form on her eyes and she doesn’t think she can bring herself to put Clementine’s egg back in its place on her bookshelf. Red is at her shoulder, quiet but supportive, and Val feels lost and found all at the same time.

And then she hears it. A crack. And then she sees it. A crack. On the egg. Because it’s hatching. Valerie can feel Red’s excitement and she’s sure it’s reflected on her own face too, and after the longest minute of Valerie’s entire life-

She’s back.

Clementine grins up at her from her egg, and Valerie grins back down at her.

“Welcome back, Clementine.”

[1tad0ri]

OKAY hey girl lemme j say how invested in this blog i am going to be . okay . so uh yuuji being the horny shit he is and texting you late at night to come to his room n you barely get through the door b4 he’s grabbing at you n telling you how much he missed your body n how he was *thinking* of you before n j URGH lemme get dat pls 🤲🤲

warning: body worship, eating out

itadori yuuji x fem!reader

AHDHSJJS FIRST OF ALL THANK YOUUU that’s so sweet!!! <3 second of all, girl i gotchu

“for fuck’s sake.” the shuffle of your sneakers along the corridor was almost too loud in the otherwise quiet space, phone screen lit up and reflecting back at you as you scrolled through the text messages that had gotten you into this situation in the first place.

one peaceful night was what you wanted. one goddamn full night’s rest. oh... but it was so hard to ignore him, no matter what time he texted you.

the amount of times you wanted to pretend to be asleep was outshone by the fact that you always wanted to talk to yuuji. eccentric and playful, he hit all the points on your ‘boyfriend checklist.’

arriving in front of his door, you sighed, clicking your phone screen off and stuffing the device into your back pocket—you hoped that he hadn’t asked you to come over to play uno at 2 a.m. again. the “can you please come over?” text had been fairly ominous, but truthfully you wouldn’t mind just cuddling up to him and falling asleep if he wanted.

you twisted the doorknob—he always left his room unlocked like a dummy (a cute dummy) and by this point you knew to spare yourself the knocking, knowing a reply of “it’s open!” would just reach you from inside.

the door creaked open under a single push and you stepped inside the familiar room, the movement already rehearsed in your mind during the walk from your dorm over to his.

“yuuji, what do you-”

heavy lips against the corner of your mouth interrupted you when someone pulled you into their chest—they’d missed your own lips in their haste but your mouth fell open in shock all the same, you squeaking as you stumbled into their arms, trying to find something to grab ahold of. your hands found warm shoulders to dig into as your regained your balance and you barely registered the click of the door shut behind you.

steady now, you untangled yourself from the person, pulling back to find yuuji staring back at you—of course it was him, this was his room after all.

he was already diving back into your lips before you could speak, and you know what? you let him. his mouth was hot when it pressed to yours and when his hand on your back pushed your waist closer to him and you felt the nudge of something hard against your leg, you decided he could do whatever he wanted to you at that point.

your arms travelled up from his shoulders to loop around his neck properly and he held you against him, so sweet and boyish when his tongue hungrily nudged between your lips, asking for entrance.

yuuji tilted his head back from yours enough to speak once he’d had his fill of shoving his tongue down your throat, hands wandering down to rub at you through your shorts. “do you know how long i’ve been thinking about this?” his voice was husky, eyes glazed over—he was lost to his desires already.

his fingers cupped your mound, shoving the pads of them against your cunt through the fabric, making you whine. “fuck, you’re so perfect.” a quick kiss to your lips. “always so much better than what i imagine.” another kiss, but this time, when he tried to pull away, you tugged him back.

you ground down on his fingers, nipping at his lips, legs shaking. “yuuji, h-harder.” he did as he was told, pressing along your underside blindly until he found your clit, knowing it was the right spot when you let out a surprised, “oh—”

then his hands were back on your sides (despite how much he loved the feeling of you melting against his chest from barely anything at all, the heat radiating from your pussy evident even without him directly touching it) and when he whispered, “jump,” into your ear, you did as you were told, his arms catching you easily and hoisting you up so you could wrap your legs around his waist, grinding your cores together. once again, you were thanking the universe for blessing you with such a strong boyfriend.

yuuji was pushing his face into your neck, breathing you in, babbling, tasting the skin—everything. “i’ve missed you. missed you so, so much.” his lips tickled, leaving behind a trail of fire and goosebumps in their wake, and you were holding onto him for dear life—it was as though sometimes he didn’t realize what he did to you (actually, you were sure that was the case now that you thought about it). he was always so needy, just a few hours apart seeming to drive him wild. it was flattering and you also maybe found it a little more hot than you probably should.

“couldn’t cum without you. mmm... needed your pretty pussy.” fuck. he just kept talking and talking, and the thought of him laying on his bed, frustrated, cock gripped in his palm as he fantasized about you only a few doors down was filling your mind, your wild imagination going straight to the building heat in your body.

from this angle, your head was just a little above his and you pushed lightly on the back of his neck to bury his face further into you, breath hitching when he bit at your collarbone. “don’t worry, i’m here now, baby. you can do whatever you want,” you cooed, finding it hard to keep your voice steady.

his movements paused for a moment, only his warm breath continuing to fan against you, and then he looked up, eyes wide. “really?”

leaning down to peck his nose, you swallowed thickly at the look in his eyes, nodding. “really.”

your head spun when he immediately turned on his heels away from the door and instead walked further into the room, dropping you onto the bed not far away. you bounced when you landed on the soft surface and tried to sit up, but yuuji was already crawling between your legs, hands planted on the covers as he leaned up to kiss you, gently pushing you to lay down. you allowed yourself to fall completely back, heart beating as you stared at the ceiling. yeah, you had ended up on his bed like you thought you were going to but... it seemed like your plans of cuddling had gone completely out the window.

a tug at your shorts had you glancing downwards, seeing that he had wasted no time settling in front of you, nipping at your thighs and tugging at your bottoms. yuuji met your burning gaze when he felt it on him, his lips attached to your upper thigh—it was a pretty sight, the blooming reds resulting from none other than your own handiwork on his mouth. his eyes were wide and lustful—cute yet making your stomach do flips as only he could.

“let me taste you, please.” hoarse voice begging, he was already running a finger close to your still-covered crotch, blinking up at you and waiting for permission. he was desperate, eyes flicking down momentarily to work your shorts down just over your hip bones as he placed a lopsided kiss to your clit through them. his eyes were back on yours. “can i? you want to cum on my tongue, don’t you? you’re going to let me tongue fuck you, yeah?”

fuck, fuck, fuck. “oh my god,” you whispered, taking in his wide blown pupils. you frantically nodded at his words, if only to shut him up before you came from that.

yuuji grinned and you were absolutely done with him because it was the same cheesy smile he always gave you and, quite frankly, it wasn’t fair if he was doing it while slick dripped out of you and onto his fingers holding your underwear to the side. you wanted to hate him for driving you wild by just being him, but it turns out you were incapable of that as well.

he buried his face in your clothed cunt, pressing light kisses to it and murmuring praise about how you were so perfect, fingers working to blindly pull your bottoms down. you helped him by shimming out of them and kicking them off to the side (shoes tumbling off when you pressed them off at the heel—you’d also pulled your phone out of your pocket and chucked it somewhere further up the bed for safe keeping in a single moment of clarity), spreading your legs for him to lean down between again, knees bent and feet planted firmly on the bed.

he took a moment to admire your pussy, the dripping lips fully on display before him, and for once he was quiet, nearly drooling.

“yuu-”

his tongue was on the folds and licking a stripe up, your thighs closing in to squeeze his head closer in surprise and you pulling on his hair, your grip so strong you were almost afraid of some of the strands coming loose (or you would be if you could think straight that is).

his hands locked around your thighs and he slid you closer to him, licking and sucking as though he were starved. you yelped and clung to the bed sheets as he dragged you closer, completely caught off guard by everything and legs burning as they bounced from the onslaught at your core. “yuuji-”

“such a good girl, opening yourself up to me.” he kissed your clit, lips so soft, and humming praise. “love it when you spread open for me. fuck, love it so much, always thinking about it.”

when yuuji’s tongue poked at your heat and then wiggled its way past the entrance, slipping in with little resistance from your wet hole, curses and whines fell from your lips. he worked the muscle in and out of you, curling it perfectly against your walls to hit the weak spots inside of you before he removed it to speak again, caught up in his own thoughts, saying anything that came to mind. his lack of filter had you pressing your fingers into the back of his head with a death grip, mind reeling.

“you’re perfect, so perfect. i love this pretty pussy.” yuuji flattened his tongue against your slit, words vibrating into you. “gonna make you cum from just my tongue. going to make this pretty pussy cum from just my tongue.” and that he did. if there was anything yuuji was, it was someone who could deliver on his promises. “it’s what my pretty baby deserves.”

you don’t know how long it took him, whether it be a few short minutes or long hours that had flashed by (you had your bet on the former considering you were already ready to cum for him as soon as he’d set to work kissing and grinding against you as soon as you’d walked in the door, although you truthfully wouldn’t be surprised at either option), but yuuji hadn’t let up once on you until you were coming undone all over his tongue, too fucked out of your mind to try to last any longer. his tongue just kept going, sliding along your folds to take up everything, relishing the taste of your jucies.

your legs were jumping at the feeling, chest heaving, and you tugged at his hair to pull him up—it was so good, yet almost too much—

when he finally emerged, lower half of his face covered in slick, he was on you again, pinning you to the mattress and kissing you—he’d quickly swiped the back of his hand across his face so it wasn’t too wet, but you could still taste yourself on his tongue, mumbling around him at the taste.

“yuuji—”

even though he had finally left your cunt alone, you still felt overwhelmed as his hands drew shapes over your skin, tracing up your sides and running over your curves. “perfect—fuck—you’re so perfect. your body is perfect, perfect, perfect. want you so baddd.”

you whimpered into his mouth, unable to reply in any other way. yuuji was nuzzling his face against yours, lips landing everywhere and no where at once. “you tasted so good,” he practically moaned at the memory. he licked his lips to taste you all over again and you could feel the wetness against the side of your mouth when he did so, your faces pressed so close together you could feel every little pull of his facial muscles.

“yuuji— ugh, fuck.” you shoved your hand in front of his mouth to stop him for a moment, his latest kiss landing on your palm and still somehow making you shiver.

his eyes were wide as he blinked down at you, hands stilled on your stomach. “babe?” his voice was muffled around your hand. “did i... did i do something wrong?”

“wha- yuuji, what? baby, no, of course not.” he let you pull him to rest on your chest and you stroked his hair soothingly as he tried to peer up at you, straining his neck. “you did so well. made me cum so well.” you kissed his forehead and he squeezed one eye closed when you did so, melting at the feeling. “i just think it’s time to help you out a little, hm?”

you cut off the protest he was surely about to make about how getting you off was enough for him when your leg purposefully brushed against the front of him, his dick solid on you even under the layers. he groaned and buried his face further into your chest. the opening and closing of his lips in silent pants rubbed on your breasts still hidden under your t-shirt—you didn’t even think he was aware of it, but you sure were—and he nodded meekly in reply when you mumbled out a quiet, “okay, baby?” into his hair.

[buckyownsmylife]

I've Told You Now - Lee Bodecker smut

The one where Lee seduced his sister's babysitter.

Warnings: smut, dubcon, age gap, innocence kink, dirty talk, loss of virginity, blood

Word count: 1.7k

A/N: This one is a part of my kinktober celebrations. My original intention for this October was to work exclusively around prompts that my wonderful friend @darkficsyouneveraskedfor created for her challenge and dedicate each story to a different friend. My new plan became then 31 days of different kinks, which expanded on a poly relationship with Stucky, as you might know by now. However, some of the stories I started were already truly loved by me, and so I kept on writing them. It worked well because as it turns out, I am fortunate enough to have more than 31 friends on Tumblr, so here is the story I wrote for @slothspaghettiwrites! You were the biggest reason I fell for Lee and it was only appropriate I wrote you this! I only hope it doesn't disappoint! Special thanks to @sweetkingdomstarlight-blog who helped me believe this was good enough to be posted! @sweeterthanthis also has a big hand at this!

Y/N’s P.O.V.

I was finishing packing up the toys in the living room when I heard the door slam, startling me into dropping the box of legos on the ground. Looking at the clock, I considered the time before looking back at the hall again. When no one appears from the hallway, I get confused. If the Hendersons hadn’t come home earlier than they intended, who else could it be?

“Waiting for me, bunny?” I immediately straightened out at the sight of Sheriff Bodecker, trying to resist the urge not to flush and keep eye contact, but ultimately failing to do so. I hadn’t seen him since the night he offered to give me a ride home and I ended up with his cock in my throat, his cum in my mouth.

“I-I didn’t even know you were coming.” Silence followed my confession as he slowly approached, eyes never leaving my body while I tried to keep myself up. He’d always had this effect on me. I remembered being a young girl and Sheriff Bodecker being the crush I knew was too old to be mine, the guy I’d never have even in a million years, but that didn’t stop me from daydreaming about him.

If I thought that maybe having him would help this infatuation disappear, it’d become clear by now that it wouldn’t be the case at all.

“And here I was, thinking you wanted me just as much as I wanted you.” The Sheriff tsked, and the sound went straight to my already dampened underwear. I couldn’t process his words very well, given how close he was and how loud my own heartbeat was ringing in my ears. Did he mean to say that he actually really wanted me?

“If that was really the case,” he taunted, circling me like I was some sort of prey. “You’d always be expecting me, wouldn’t you? But it’s alright, honey. You know why?” When I shook my head, he answered his own question, a single finger running down my jaw to guide me to look him in the eye. “Because I think you were expecting me. You’re always expecting me, looking for me wherever you go, just like I do. And there’s an easy way to prove my theory.”

Before I could question it, his arms embraced me from behind, hands slowly running down my stomach until they reached the edge of my skirt. I started sweating in anticipation. I knew what he would find.

“Let me check.” His fingers went over the fabric first, and he chuckled when he noticed how wet it was. “Would you look at that?” I was already trembling when he pulled my panties to the side and ran that same digit over my lower lips, just lightly grazing them. “Soaked already.”

Although I couldn’t see it, the humming sound he emitted after taking his fingers from under my dress didn’t leave me any doubt about what he did with the moisture he collected. Just the thought of him enjoying my taste that much had me weak in the knees, and I tried to keep myself up by reaching for a chair nearby.

Lee’s P.O.V.

I chuckled to myself at how sensitive she was, barely able to keep up with the little I’d done so far. Then again, it was clear I had a particularly strong effect on her. That had been obvious for a while, ever since she started working for my sister, probably - around the same age her womanly features began to stand out.

She seemed unable to look me directly in the eyes, always averting her gaze and biting her lower lip when I decided to stop around here for a coffee or check in on the little rugrat. I began doing this a lot more often after she was hired, but neither her nor my sister seemed to connect the dots.

Her innocence, her beauty just left me so fucking hard. I was hard right then, and I wanted her to know it. So I pressed my body against her back, lightly grinding my member against the curve of her ass.

“I suppose you’re finished for the day,” I speculated, knowing once the kid was out all she had to do was wait for my sister and her husband to arrive. “Guess I can help you unwind…”

She gasped when she felt my hardness, making me chuckle. “Your sister and her husband should be back soon…” She tried to reason, but I wasn’t having any of it.

“We’ll be quiet anyway. Can’t risk waking up the kid.” I gripped her wrist and pulled her on the direction of the guest bedroom, now fully unable to control myself. I was so close to having what I had wanted for so long.

She looked unsure of herself as I closed the door behind us, and I raised an eyebrow in a questioning look. “What’s wrong?” She shifted her weight from one foot to another, fingers playing with the hem of her skirt.

“I-I don’t know about this…” Chuckling, I approached her to cradle her face between my hands and deposit a kiss on those sweet lips.

“Don’t you trust me, pretty girl?” I had caught her now, we both knew it. She’d never risk disappointing or offending me, so when her mouth opened to explain herself and I raised an eyebrow in warning, it was only a matter of seconds until she closed it altogether and nodded, her eyes dropping to her feet.

“Yes, I do.” My smirk was full of victory, and I could taste it in my lips now. It was as sweet as the nectar between her legs I’d only had a taste of.

“There you go.” Approaching her once more, I settled my hands on her hips before leaning to kiss her shoulder. “Besides…” I continued, already bunching up her dress to get rid of it as quickly as possible. “You obviously need me to take care of you and this little wet hole.”

She bucked when my fingers rubbed her this time, dress already forgotten on the floor as I slowly shoved down the fabric of her underwear to join it. Once she was completely naked, I ran my digits over her cunt, verifying that her wetness was already so overwhelming that it was threatening to drip from her.

“So sweet.” I hummed once I wrapped my lips around those digits, tasting her on my tongue again. Yes, I was already obsessed. I think anyone who had the chance to try her nectar would understand my situation - but no one ever would.

She was mine now, and I would never let her go.

“C’mon, bunny.” Patting her ass, I directed her to the bed, chuckling at how embarrassed she seemed, being this exposed to my hungry gaze. “Be a good girl and spread your legs. Be my little angel, won’t you?”

I wished I could have done this somewhere more private - my own house, instead of my sister’s. But I just couldn’t wait anymore. My cock twitched inside my pants. I felt like I was drunk on this, drunk on her.

“C’mon, honey!” I repeated, lightly slapping the outside of her thigh. “I wanna fuck you. And I know you want to be mine, pretty girl. You can’t hide it from me.”

When she finally relented and slowly parted her beautiful legs for me, I nearly melted at the sight. Driven by my desire, I unbuckled my belt and worked to whip my cock out as quickly as possible, smirking at the wide, innocent eyes that settled on my member as I fisted it in preparation.

“Doesn’t it look good?” I teased, climbing on the bed to take my spot between her legs, rubbing the head of my dick against her slit. “I’m gonna have you taste it next time. But for now…”

Resting my forehead against hers, I slowly started to penetrate her tight pussy, slipping only the head at first, even though I was aching to fuck her throughly.

“This is gonna hurt a little,” I warned, not able to stop mid-way to let her adjust but keeping my invasion of her maidenhood slow until I had bottomed out inside of her. “Sh…” I tried to calm her, gently wiping away the few tears running down her soft cheeks. “I know it hurts, bunny. But you can take it, can’t you?”

She managed to nod despite her whimpers, and I brushed her tears away as I warned her, “I’m gonna make you feel so good, honey.”

It took a little while, but at last, she opened her eyes and I waited until she was able to focus them on me again. “You look so pretty, bunny…” I whispered, kissing her while I finally started to move inside of her, stopping only to moan out loud at her overwhelming tightness.

“I’m gonna train you until all you can think about is my cock,” I warned her, slowly pulling out until only the head of my cock was keeping her open.

“I can’t wait any longer.” Slamming my dick all the way in, I felt her nails running down my back, leaving trails of blood behind - trails I wouldn’t mind wearing under my shirt, sting as they might.

“I promise you, honey…” I panted, sweat already dripping from my forehead onto her pretty face. “You’re gonna miss me when I’m not inside of you.”

I kissed her cheek, rubbing my nose against it as she held me tightly against her. “I know you don’t want any of those boys you used to go to school with touching what I’ve already taken.”

She nodded quickly, my pretty little honey. Yes, she was mine already and she knew it. “It’s alright, pretty girl…” I soothed her as she started to whine, her cunt clenching deliciously around me. “It’s alright, cum with me…”

She closed her eyes when she met bliss, but I kept mine wide open so I wouldn’t miss her perfect expression of pleasure. It was almost enough to keep me hard, but I wasn’t as young as I once was.

I never pulled out of her tight heaven, keeping her body snuggled against me. I was happy that I decided to be patient, if it meant I now got to have her like this.

“I hope you know that you’re mine now, bunny.”

[luimagines]

Hi! I have a request, but first i wanna say your writing is absolutely amazing! The length + amount of time you put into these prompts is insanely good. Now! Onto the request, how would the boys react to a reader from a more modern era? Maybe a more modernized hyrule or our current point in time?

Masterlist

Thank you so much for the compliment! I'm happy to see the response even if this blog is still relatively new.

I hope I do your prompt justice.

I probably could have done a headcanon list but I was hit with inspiration.

I also might have given Reader some backstory.

Scenario below the cut! It’s long, take caution.

It was a cool night, but you didn't mind. Your bed was warm, the WiFi was fast and even if it was three AM on a school night, you managed to keep yourself giggling with cat videos and blursed memes until the words and colors merged.

A night well spent.

But it led to questionable decisions.

Even if the shredded cheese in the fridge was beginning to seem a more and more enticing snack, your body was tempted to succumb to slumber.

Until a large purple light encompassed the entirety of your window.

Something was in your backyard.

Aliens. Your tired brain supplies and you sprint to the glass and push away the curtains. Is this it? Is this where I'm kidnapped and never seen or heard from again?

You pull out your phone and open up the camera.

"Pics or it didn't happen." You remind yourself and snap a few before showing your face.

What you see isn't what you're expecting. Instead of a flying saucer in the sky beaming down a laser or a weird pear shaped space craft on top of the grass, there's a single panel of glowing light, swirling with black accents that creeps in a circular motion.

"Cheese and crackers...." You gasp and begin to blatantly stare at it with no regard to whether something may be coming out of it.

You wait and nothing happens.

You wait some more and nothing happens.

You spend an hour watching this portal that has appeared out of nowhere, waiting for something to happen, willing for something to happen. But you get nothing.

The unknown stares right back at you, unblinking and unchanged.

Go through it. A voice tells you. What if there's something on the other side?

"I'm going to die." You gulp and take a deep breath.

Who else gets a chance like this? The voice talks again. This could be a grand step towards a more modern society. A whole new world could be on the other side, waiting, reaching out, calling to humanity!

You think you a see a shadow move behind the portal and out of sight but it’s gone before you can even process it.

"Should I call the police?" You step away from the window, ignoring the thoughts, the voice- you're too tired to know if it's your own any more. What's the plan? How does one go about something like this?

Where’s your sense of adventure? Pack a bag and go! What if it goes away?

That last thought seems to get through to your tired brain and for a reason beyond your understanding, it latches onto it.

Now you’re excited.

You run to the closet and take out your old backpack. It used to be for school but it was fancier since it was the only one you could get. The bag had a replaceable water bag with a plastic straw connected through the back of it and the straps have just worn down enough to where they’re actually comfortable. It doubled as a hiking backpack and came with its own insulated lunch box that clasped on the back of it.

It’ll finally serve its purpose.

You quickly roll up your favorite blanket and strap it in tightly beneath the lunch box. You’re quick to take out two extra outfits and pack them as well as change out of your pajamas.

Ok. What would you need? You don’t know where you’d be going so this has to a catch all kind of deal.

You pack away your swiss army knife first for good measure. A solar powered charger for your phone and an extra pair of socks follow suit even after you’ve picked out the extra clothes.

You take out the water bag and run to fill it all the way to max capacity as you think of any other necessities.

You’d need food. You have a small jar of peanut butter and granola bars that can fit in the lunch box. You can bring your extra water bottle and put in the side pockets of the backpack, and maybe bring some of those powered flavor packets your brother loves so much. You think he has lemonade and some green tea ones.

Those would be great. He won’t mind, hopefully.

You let the bag overfill momentarily before running back to shove it in your bag. with the lid screwed tight.

Next you run to the kitchen, grabbing the first things that you thought of already and begin to look around for more.

You grab an unopened pack of beef jerky, a bag of veggie sticks and a half eaten bag of dried mangos.

During your search you grab the water bottle and fill that too.

You return to your room with your bounty and begin to carefully put everything in the box. With some more deliberation, you run back to the kitchen and make yourself a quick sandwich, eat it, make another one and pack that as well.

You look out side the window and the portal is still there.

The sun is beginning to rise now so you’re trying to go as fast as you can, unless you want to neighbors to think something is going on.

Even if it is.

You’re about to leave but in a stroke of brilliance, you run to pack sunscreen and bug spray as well. You see a small first aid pack that was bought recently for when you would take your family vacation but you reason that it might one of the most important things you’d have if you got hurt.

Into the bag it goes.

You grab your hoodie before you leave the door, wrap it around your waist and pocket your phone, your headphones and your wallet.

You feel immediately under packed when you step outside and see the portal up close.

It’s weirdly triangle shaped, you think and step closer.

You reach your hand out and try to touch it. It feels as if you put your hand through a humidifier but it’s not wet. It’s misty and cold but not necessarily unpleasant.

An idea hits you right before you take your first step through.

You pull up one of the earlier photo’s you took and send it to your friend’s group chat. It showed up in my backyard. I decided to make a bad late night decision and I’m going through. If you never hear from me again, I want you all to fight over my electronics. Winner takes all. Godspeed.

And you step through.

You had first assumed that it would merely take you tot he other side but very quickly realize that you have to walk through it.

The first part still had a little light but with time, it got darker. So dark that you couldn’t even see your hand in front of your face.

You kept walking.

As fast as the light disappeared, it came back and you stepped into the light of an open field, right in front of one, two, three, four, nine males that had appeared to be traveling towards you or rather, towards the portal.

The portal disappears in the process.

“Oh so we didn’t have to go through it! We had to gain another member!” One of them yells. “Would have been nice to know before we packed everything up!”

“Ho boy, where am I?” You ask and tighten your grip on your backpack. Why didn’t I bring a weapon?

They all had long tunics and swords on their backs. Old fashioned leather boots and hand bracers were the norm in this group and you realized very quickly that your jeans and t-shirt had wildly missed the memo.

“Dang, I didn’t think I’d walk into a LARP group. Sorry about that.” You sheepishly smile. “I had no idea where the portal was going to take me. But if you would be so kind-”

“Wait, what’s LARP?” One of them speaks up. He was a dirty blond and somewhere in the middle of the group height wise. He wore a white cape like thing with blue designs on the back but you didn’t recognize the symbol.

“Live Action Role Play?” You tilt your head. “It’s why you’re all dressed like that? Right?”

“This is just our clothes.” What appears to be the youngest bounces up to you. “What are you wearing?”

“First I could grab in my closet.” You admit and look down on it. It’s one of your comfiest shirts and best looking pants. You’re a little proud of yourself for finding those in the dark.

“Weird.”

“We’re heroes. We’re all named Link.” Cape guy speaks up again. “Is it safe to assume that you’re in the same boat?”

“Heroes?” Your eyebrows furrow together. “I’m not a hero and my name’s not Link.”

You’re quick to tell them your name and you watch as the confusion covers their faces. “My brother’s name is Link though if that helps anything.”

“Oh we needed him!” The youngest groans and it instantly irks you.

“What would you need with a five year old?” You deadpan and cross your arms. 

The information stuns the group.

“The portal showed up in the middle of the night and I’m the one that went through it. I’m pretty sure I was the only awake to even see it. Are you telling me that it was for my little brother?” You’d be lying if you said that you weren’t a little pissed. “My baby brother was supposed to go through it? He was asleep! He’s five. What kind of logic is that?!”

“Well...” The biggest and oldest of them runs a hand over his face. You think he has some cool tattoos and sick scar going across his eye but he looks about as angry as you feel, so you don’t say anything. “It appears the gods truly do not care for the hero’s maturity, only his existence.”

“Ok...What’s with all this hero talk?” You bite back. “What did... Where am I?”

“Hyrule.” The second with cool face tattoos speaks up. He’s got a large fur pelt around his shoulders and you have to tighten your grip against your backpack again to keep from reaching out to touch it.

Even so you feel yourself deadpan even more. “Hyrule? Like the ancient empire? The one that collapsed more than two thousand years ago? That Hyrule?”

You’re inclined to not believe them and write all of them off as crazy... but you also walked through a portal. And your grandma did say that magic existed in the strangest forms.

They all share looks of concern and some begin to murmur quietly amongst themselves but you’re too far gone to even notice.

“Did I time travel?” The idea hits you like a bus and you feel your eyes widen as you stare beyond the group. You quickly take our your phone and unlock it.

No signal.

“Is that a type of Sheikah slate?” Someone asks you.

“I don’t know what that is.” You reply automatically. “Wait, hold on, what year is it?”

“Why don’t you tell us what year you’re from and we can start from there?” The darkest brunette of the group speaks up.

“202x PC” You say robotically, not really processing the world around you anymore.

“That’s...” The blond with a long blue scarf speaks up with a slight hiss. “...Beyond any of our timelines. You see, we all come from different worlds and eras of Hyrule’s history.”

“I don’t think you’re the farthest down anymore, Wild.”

“This would then make them my successor, right?”

“It would make their brother your successor.” Someone amends. “I think they just jumped in his place.”

“Leave my brother alone.” You snap back into the present, pocketing your [hone again. “Ok, you know what, screw it. I don’t know what you’d want my brother for but I’m here now. I’d gladly take his place if it means he gets to stay home!”

“Hey.” A boy with pink hair stalks up to you looking a little more serious than you’d like.

“Nice hair dude, way to defy the gender norms.” You smirk a little before genuinely grinning, hoping to quell the tension. “What product do you use? It looks like Artic Fox but not every place sells their brand.”

“...I have no idea what you’re talking about but what happened to Ganon in your world? How have you been handling it?” He snaps and places his hands on his hips.

“Ganon? Like my old principle? That’s a name I haven’t heard in forever.” You’re confused again. “Last I heard he joined the police force only to be reassigned out of state. I don’t know what’s happening with him. Kinda hope he gets fired though. He’s not a bad guy but he’s not someone you’d want in that kind of position of power, you know.”

“Police force?”

You blinked and look them all over. They look very medieval. “Oh... You don’t have that...”

You begin to think about your history lessons and what they might be familiar with if they’re telling the truth about being from Hyrule.

“Ya’ll got knights?”

Many, almost all of them nod, a few with face of despair already on them before you finish speaking.

“It’s kind of like that. Mixed with a towns guard position... kinda. They enforce laws... at least they’re supposed to but the whole system is flawed and racist and really needs to be dismantled for the abuse of power that they have-”

“Abuse? Of power?” You have their attention again.

“It’s stupid and it won’t really make any sense if I try to explain because I doubt you have anything similar but it’s basically a group of people given the right to treat the public in anyway they like for their own benefit because they have no one telling them that they can’t.” You groan and slowly begin to feel your lack of sleep catch up to you. 

You slowly reach to behind you and sit down on the dirt, looking at all of them. “Mr. Dragmire wasn’t like...Demise or anything but he was a huge jerk. No one liked him. He liked me though. I remember that. I was the envy of the whole school because I somehow got on his good side while everyone else wants to strangle him. I think he was transferred for some misdemeanor or something like that... like he might have been throwing hands with someone he wasn’t supposed to. I never heard all the details. I didn’t really care for it when it happened either. I’m pretty sure he lost that fight though. The dude looked like a blast of wind could have knocked him over let alone someone’s knuckle sandwich.”

“I would love to hear more about this.” The youngest sits next to you with a large grin on his face. His eyes are bright and his body language reminds you of your cousin Zelda. You instantly think they’d get along like a house on fire. “What are your monsters like?”

“Monsters?” You tilt your head. “Be a little more specific bud, it depends on where you’re from.”

“You have that many?!”

“It depends on if you believe they’re real or not.”

“Speaking of monsters, can you fight?” The shortest walks up to you. You like that his tunic is stitched up with multiple colors and designs. It gives it personality, you think. “Do you have a weapon you’re more comfortable with?”

The question throws you off your rhythm and you don’t fight your wince. “What would happen if I say that I do not, in fact, have any sort of weapon on me?”

“I wouldn’t believe you.” Pink guy speaks up again. “That pack is huge, there has to be something in there.”

“It’s food, water and extra clothes my guy.” You lean back against said backpack since it won’t let you lay down with it still on. “Not a lot of space for anything else. I’m pretty good at hand to hand combat though. Karate’s a good way to fight out stress.” 

“Your bag’s not magic?”

“Why the hell would it be magic? ...Are you trying to tell me magic actually exists?” You raise an eyebrow as your eyes begin to close against your will. “I know my grandma said it does but I thought she meant like fairies and shadow demons.. and bigfoot. Can’t forget him, he’s the real MVP... You know...Children’s bedtime stories and stuff like that, it’s not real. But like magic magic? Magic items and the like? Find me Tinkerbell and I’ll show you Neverland, that’s what I say.”

“Are you serious?”

“Second star to the right, straight on till morning.” You respond.

There’s a moment of silence as the group in front of you processes your words. It’s hard to tell their reaction since you’re not looking at them but you no longer have the energy to do anything else.

“Are you falling asleep right now?” It’s the one they called Wild.

“I...” You try to open your eyes. They don’t budge. “I haven’t slept in nearly 20 hours... I think. I might have past 24 hours a while ago actually. Portal showed up at like four in the morning... I had to get up at six and I didn’t sleep at all before then.”

More silence.

“Great another one.” Someone scoffs.

You snort.

“Why did we pack up camp again?”

“No one kill me.” You say right before you lose consciousness. “Please and thank you.”

“They’re doomed.”

“Have some faith Vet. They stepped in for their little brother. That has to mean something?”

“They’re in for a rude awakening, and that’s all I have to say about it.”