#Mun Writes
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Thinking about Wriothesley taking me on all fours, big and burly hands grabbing the fat of my love handles, kneading the pudgy, plump swell of my ass as he fucks his big veiny cock into my soaking wet cunt with the loudest, shameless and rhythmic wet plap plap. He's too focused on fucking my brains out, just staring down, mesmerised at how his thick cock rips my tiny pussy lips apart, stretching them taut over his massive girth and leaving behind dregs of white. Im so tight it almost hurts but it feels so deliciously full that I'm thinking it must take a lot of strength to keep pumping himself so deep inside me. His calloused palms land spank after hard spank over my sore and reddening ass cheeks as he grunts in approval. One of his arms haul me up and back against his chest with his fingers wrapping around my throat as his teeth sink into my neck and shoulders, marking me, claiming me, owning me. His other hand gropes my bouncing tits, tweaking my hard and swollen nipples, so sensitive from when his mouth ravaged them previously. I want him to fuck me, choke me, spank me, bite me, bruise me, use me, breed me, destroy me and build me back up. His swollen cock head slams over and over against my sweet spot, cramming me full and bullying my cervix and I'm cumming so hard spraying my juices all over his pulsing cock and balls and then he's moaning and groaning and cumming inside me, painting my insides creamy white with his thick seed and he just keeps cumming and cumming and cumming. So much of his cum I can only keep plugged inside me as it oozes out of my squelching and abused hole. I can barely breathe, his chokehold getting addictive. His cock doesn't soften, he's pumping again. Slowly at first as we both shiver from the overstimulation but again hes practically pounding me again. And once again I am his helpless little cumslut and I don't want him to stop.
#wriothesley smut#wriothesley x reader#genshin impact#mun writes#wriothesley#wriothesley x you#breeding k1nk#smut
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DCA venom au
Chapter 1
The one where the reader goes out hiking and stargazing, but things take an unexpected turn.
alien DCA x human Reader (qpr)
Warnings: pessimistic thoughts, thoughts of death(not graphic), thoughts of war(not graphic), description of sickness
This would be just another day of your life. Would be, if you didn't take a few days off to go hiking in the nearest forest. What were you even doing here? The ground is hard, the campfire smells not as good as people say it does, the forest creatures make all sorts of noises.
And the freaking s'more is just a sticky, sugary disappointment.
You lick your fingers, trying to clean up the sticky goo of the burned marshmallow. Your fingers taste gross. You abandon all hope and go for some baby wipes to deal with it.
A good question. What were you doing out here, so far away from civilization and your favorite small grocery shop that has this wild variety of instant noodles? You wouldn't even consider going away from your work, but this coworker wouldn't stop nagging you. Something about "very good thing happening", or how did she say it? Doesn't matter. She shouldn't be so much into those fancy cards.
A small breath left your lips, the night air was crisp and fresh, making your body shiver a bit. You move a bit closer to the campfire.
This whole trip was a big waste of time, the comfortable routine you've carved for yourself was ruined, and now you also had dirt under your nails.
The night wind blew softly, making the trees and bushes rustle. Almost sounds like a whisper. Or steps of an animal. Spooky.
You wondered for a moment if there were wild animals here. That'd be a dumb way to die: perish only because you didn't check if there were bears or wolves or something else in this area. Not that you'd care if you died. Nor would anyone really. You felt bad for the poor soul that would find your b-
You bite on the fried mushroom and burn your tongue. You hiss, snapping from the dark thoughts and covering your mouth with a hand as if it's gonna help you somehow. You really should learn to wait sometimes.
Fried sausage. Fried potatoes. Fried mushrooms. S'mores. What else do you remember hearing other people eat during camping? … You couldn't remember. Oh well. You were full anyway.
The night sky was clear. Some white dots were visible even when you were sitting next to the campfire. After some thinking, you decided that you don't want to skip the stargazing and threw a blanket over yourself.
You settled on the ground a few meters from the fire. Air felt so much colder already.
But the stars? Oh, they were beautiful.
Your eyes had gazed upon this vast nothingness filled with sparks of light. The human frame so tiny and insignificant in comparison. And yet it felt like this nothingness wanted to crash down at you like a tidal wave. To pull you in, to swallow you whole, to have you amongst its tiny dots.
It was breathtaking, to say the least.
You were alone. So, so alone. All these stars were alone. Millions and billions years away from each other. From you. You were far, far away from everyone. So far away for so long.
You wondered if you still had your light.
Another soft sigh left your lips and the world went dark for a few long seconds.
You tried so, so hard to not let your thoughts drift off and spiral. You were alone and there were a lot of ways to do what the voices in your head would tell you. You didn't want to ruin the day of some random ranger.
You opened your eyes, meeting the stars above once more.
Wait, was it just you or one of the stars became brighter? And bigger too. What's-
In a blink of an eye, the flash brightened the sky before disappearing just as fast. The air shook and made you jump when a loud BANG exploded somewhere to your side.
The war had started, you thought. A missile must've misfired and fallen in the forest. In a few moments you'll be covered by the energy wave, or whatever it's called, and you'll be gone. And no one will know you were here and became one of the victims. You closed your eyes once again, waiting for the worst.
One second. Two. … Minute. Two minutes…
Why is it taking so long?
You opened your eyes when you smelled the scent of burned wood.
A faint, barely visible trail of smoke followed from the depths of the woods. You didn't notice how your body moved on its own. You got up to your feet and went where the smoke was coming from.
Earth was soft and a bit creaky under your shoes. Little pebbles clanked softly with each step you took. You went deeper into the woods, led only by the faint smell of burning. Then, you saw it. The tops of the trees ahead were broken. The black tainted the torn branches. You followed the trail of damaged trees until you stumbled upon….a rock.
You blinked.
The rock was neatly sitting in the crevice of its own making. Some grass around it still had some splashes of red in it, you quickly made your way to step on those sparks. You didn't want animals to die in the fire. The ground was warm, you could feel it even through your shoes. In the dim moonlight you could see clouds of steam come off the rock.
That's when it hit you.
That wasn't a missile. That was a meteor. Or a comet. Or an asteroid. You never learned the difference. It didn't matter anyway. There was a freaking space rock right in front of you. A real rock, right from the skies above. As real as can be.
You could hold in a little squeal of happiness that left your throat.
You quickly stepped closer to this big space rock to take a closer look. You couldn't see it too well, since you failed in being logical and didn't bring a flashlight or your phone. The moon light was all you had.
It had a bunch of holes in it, kinda reminded you of a sponge. You hesitated before touching it, just to see what kind of texture-
You, once again, failed as a human being, as you touched the scolding hot space rock that burned grass around it. Good job.
But you still were able to feel some of it. It was weirdly smooth, like pebbles or glass shards that were left in a moving water for long. You weren't sure what it meant, but guess smooth is better than sharp. You'd be burned and cut. How fun it would be...
....
So, you saw something fall from the sky, but it's not like there's any danger or anything. Go back to the camp and enjoy the last few hours of your trip, right?
Wrong.
You wanted that space rock.
That space rock was calling for your weird fascination with cool rocks. And how cool would that be to have a literal space rock in your collection.
There's only one small problem.
This rock is half your size.
You stood there, looking this boulder over and trying to come up with a way to get it home so it could be a part of your collection. You clearly couldn't bring the whole thing, but maybe you'd be able to bring a piece?..
Oh, what if it's one of these cool rocks that people smash open to reveal pretty crystals inside. Geode, was it? You'd probably die from happiness if that was what it was.
You grabbed the nearest branch that looked sturdy enough. First time it hit the rock with a quiet knock. You hit harder. Nothing happens. You hit once again. The branch breaks, almost hitting you in the face.
Okay, so a stick won't work. Maybe another rock will?
You quickly find a rather big rock with sharp edges. You hold it securely with both hands as you take a stand.
Breathe in. Smash. Again, breathe in. Smash. Once more, breathe in. SMASH.
The boulder cracked loudly and you dropped your tool to pry it open, cursing the hot surface. But there were no crystals inside.
It looked as if you tore a sponge apart, the holes you saw on the surface went all the way through the rock. It was black on the inside. Wait, is it wet?-
....
You woke up when the sun was right above your head, effectively blinding you. You sat up, looking around. You were right where you were stargazing at night. All your stuff just as you left it, you even had your blanket on.
What a weird dream. But no time to dwell on it, you didn't like wasting time out here. Touching grass and watching nature wasn't enough to solve all your problems. You need your job and the comfort of your routine.
Stuffing some leftover fried mushrooms and potatoes in yourself as a breakfast, you quickly gather up your belongings and clean up after yourself. The trip back is long, but uneventful, except some dizziness you felt closer to the end. But you never moved so much before, so you figured that was as normal as seeing dark circles when you stand up a bit too quickly.
Surely, when you make it home, take a shower and have a good 18 hour long nap in your bed you'll be fine. And the management would be so happy to know that one of their nameless employees that took a week off would return only after a couple of days.
….
You make it home in a cold sweat. Your limbs feel like they're made out of overcooked pasta, you're dizzy as if you took a few turns of riding on a rollercoaster and you feel so sick that you think all your inner workings want to escape your body and leave you behind as an empty shell. The work can wait, looks like you've got severe food poisoning.
Damn mushrooms, you knew you shouldn't have trusted them.
The next day comes and goes in a haze. Time doesn't exist as you fall asleep and wake up a dozen times.
You tried eating, but anything that entered your mouth was pushed out by your raging stomach, so you were hanging only on water and bread. You cursed the mushrooms you ate on your trip for a hundredth time as you stood on your knees in front of the toilet bowl.
You'll never accept any food from the coworker that is into taro cards.
You're barely able to stand up to wash your face and mouth, hoping to get rid of the bitter taste. You splash some cold water on your face and then-
"How long is it gonna last?"
You jumped, startled by the sudden voice that came seemingly out of nowhere. You glanced around, paranoid that someone was in the bathroom with you, but you were alone.
"We can't eat, I'm hungry."
You jumped again as a slightly different voice whined in your ear. You were still alone. There was a long pause, before you sighed and whispered. "I guess I finally lost it. I have hallucinations now..."
"Hey, we aren't hallucinations! How rude." The voice calls.
"That's what a hallucination would say." You answer into nothingness. Well, if you were loosing it, might as well make the best of it.
Your left hand moves on its own and lightly slaps you on the face.
"Real enough?" A slightly huskier voice chuckles in your head. Pain feels real. That freaks you out a bit.
"That's my hand." You protest.
"Our hand." Both voices respond.
"Am I possessed by the ghosts of the soviets?"
No answer. For an alarmingly long time.
"No." Was all they answered.
"What are you then?" You ask, wondering what your hallucinations are gonna say.
"We're yours. And you're ours."
You were too sick to deal with it, so you went to lay down in bed and continue being miserable.
"What does it even mean?" You grunt, plopping yourself onto the bed.
"That means you're stuck with us, human." The higher voice called out suspiciously cheerfully.
You just groan. "Great, I'm having food poisoning and a bad trip."
The voice in your head grumbles, as if offended that you didn't stop thinking it was just a hallucination.
"That's not actually food poisoning." The huskier one says. "That might be because of us."
"Yup, your body doesn't want us here!"
"Too bad we can't leave."
"It can't get rid of us! We're bound now!"
You groaned once again, their chirping just making your headache worse. "Can you shut up for a minute?"
"Oh, do you still feel sick?" The chirpier voice asks.
You grunt in response, rubbing your eyes.
"Hm, maybe we can help with it…"
....
You don't remember anything after that.
The only thing you knew when you opened your eyes was that your body wasn't trying to get rid of your organs anymore. When you came back into this world and checked your phone, you noticed that a day was erased from your memory. It takes you some time to process everything, but you guessed that everything was just a weird fever dream.
You turn in your bed and take the phone in other hand to scroll through the news, just to see what you missed while fighting with the sickness. You thought how odd it was that you started hearing voices. It's been a long time since you had auditory hallucinations.
Anyway, you're just glad it's over now-
"Do you feel better now?" The voice in your head calls out cheerfully.
You drop the phone on your face.
#dca#dca fandom#dca au#dca venom au#dca venom au y/n#dca venom au Sun#dca venom au Moon#dca x y/n#dca x reader#mun writes#THAT'S IT FOLKS I'M OFFICIALLY TOO FAR GONE#I'M WRITING SHIT NOW#(that's how you know I'm totally normal about something)#also ask to tag cuz i know very little about triggers#no proofreading we die like men
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Oh my god a fanwork??? The very first one of this blog??? Of course it goes to the amazing Lily / @restartheartvn uwu Anyways I maybe possibly finally got caught up on the Kenneth lore and realized he's a shit ton like an ACTUAL ex of mine, so here's me doing a lil' thing in honor of our diety of real-life representation Lily <3
Warnings/Content: My Sugar does have a backbone of some sort, Kenneth being Kenneth, ie. subjects of cheating lying and manipulation, threats of physical violence (from Sugar, not Kenneth), detailed description of post-stressor anxiety/panic attack, VERY BRIEF moment that could mayyybe be seen as s.h. ideation if you squint, very very vague allusion to weight criticism having been received in the past. Talk-down/cool-down zone from the contents is underneath the line of "~~~~", for anyone who may need it <3
"Dove, c'mon, you're exaggerating-"
"Exaggerating? Exaggerating?? Please, oh wise one, enlighten me as to what part of you cheated on me is an exaggeration?"
The man-child you'd almost called your husband all but rolled his eyes at you, huffing like an impatient toddler.
"You always do this now. Why can't I have my sweet little fiancé back? It's really hurtful, the way you've changed."
That startles a disbelieving laugh out of you, and you can't help but look at him like either he's insane, or you're about to be. Both are equally likely to be true, at this point.
"Hurtful? I'm the one being hurtful? You fucked my sister, Kenneth. And God above knows how many more you might have fucked. I'd call you a dick, but you're too fake for that, so dildo it is. At least the town is getting some good use out of you."
His expression is hard to read, as you spit out your pain at him in envenomed words. You're not sure if that was the best or worst insult you've ever given in your life, but at least it was heartfelt. Your whole body felt like it was vibrating with the energy of a live wire, jaw and temple sore from clenched teeth and repressed tears.
As much as you wanted to cry, you'd hate to give this asshat the satisfaction.
Apparently not repressed enough, though. Your stomach twisted sickly as you watched his expression soften, a hand reaching up to try and cup your cheek.
"Aw, c'mon Dove, don't be like that... You know I'd never do that to you, right? C'mere, let me wipe your tears..."
You hissed, drawing back and slapping away his hand. Like hell you were going to let him indulge in his fascination with your tears, and now of all moments. He had barely enough good sense to look vaguely shocked, at least. You took the chance while you had it, narrowing your eyes as dangerously as you knew how and letting all your anger growl out in your voice.
"Don't. Fucking. Touch me. You don't deserve to touch me with those filthy hands. You chose to be beneath me when you went and cheated."
At that, something finally seemed to snap behind his eyes, and his lip curled in a sneer, a humorless laugh escaping his lungs like the last bird flying from a wildfire.
"You think you're above me, you dumb bitch? You're too stupid to understand anything, it seems. You will never find someone else like me-"
"That's the fucking point. I don't want to find someone else like you ever again. You are a sad, miserable, useless, ego-inflated, self-absorbed, narcissistic, fucking ASSHOLE, and I want nothing to ever do with you again. Your family can go burn, their 'friendship' with my family can fucking burn, hell even my family can go burn for all I fucking care since they had part in this arrangement too. But I promise you one fucking thing, Kenneth, if you EVER try to touch me again, I'll fucking rip off the arm you tried it with and shove it down your throat."
You weren't one for violence, usually. You hated being violent. It was terrifying to become that kind of person. But right now, in this moment, you meant what you were saying to your asshat ex, and by the look on his face, you guessed he could tell you meant it, too.
You didn't dare break eye contact with him as you watched him slowly backpedal out of your apartment. Not when you felt so close to crumbling to the floor from your frayed nerves.
It felt like forever, before you heard the door click shut.
It also felt like forever, with a side of clouded and dazey, as you made the way to the door to lock it.
But as soon as you heard that lock click, you couldn't hold back the floodgates anymore - you crumpled, kneeling right there in front of the door, body shaking like an aspen leaf in the wind as you struggled to breathe, your breaths coming short and panicked, and your vision blurred and burned with tears that finally could be released.
You dug your fingers into the carpet, the only thing on hand to tether yourself to reality, and let your tears fall into the shag as it itched at your fingertips and cuticles with rough threads. A fleeting thought crossed your mind that maybe if it scratched at you enough, it would rub away all the skin that ever touched him - but it was gone and forgotten just as quickly in the haze of emotions.
You don't know how long you were down there. After a certain point, it just felt like one big blur of adrenaline and hurt, and you eventually found yourself choking and coughing just as much as you were sobbing.
The raw sensation in your throat, weirdly enough, was what finally started to pull you back from the edge and ground you back to reality, slowly cluing you in to other sensations - the stiffness of your fingers from your death-grip on the carpet, the burn of the carpet texture engraining it's pattern into the skin of your knees, the ache that pressed in a ring all the way around your head from crying so hard and so much.
You let out a slow, if shaky, breath. Then a small sniff, and wipe your eyes after slowly prying your fingers out of the carpet.
... You need a glass of water, before you can even begin to look ok again.
So you're going to go get yourself a damn glass of water. And it will have the sugary flavoring you like added, because nobody's here anymore to tell you it's unhealthy.
You're going to start taking back your freedom, one little treat at a time.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Oof, hi! That was... a lil real of me, lmao. So here's a reminder that, if you're feeling a little shaky or dissociated after all that, please go get a glass of water as cold as you can stand it - that should help ground you, and also, hydrating is good!
Also remember that none of the above is real, it is simply fiction that is informed by a reality I've personally lived, and you don't need to be afraid - you're safe, and loved, and we care for you and your safety a lot <3 Please take all the time you need to recover, snuggle up in bed/on the couch with your favorite blanket and media, and treat yourself kindly :3
Here's some nice flowers to look at while you're here: 🌸 🌼 🌻 ✿ ❀ ✾ 💐 🌷
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Sunset
(Haven't been in a good headspace to roleplay much lately, but I did start writing one of about four variant options for the Cyberkid AU today, and this is the one I think I'm gonna use as a 'verse on here)
He is a Seeker. Like her. Tall, broad shoulders, tapered waist. Elegant wings. Cruel face. He is Commander Starscream. Her- not progenitor. CNA donor. Supervisor, mentor, flight leader. Not guardian, never guardian. He is in charge of her training, her preparation for battle, for facing the Autobot threat. He is not liable for her injuries; those are her responsibility. He is given the credit when she completes an assignment, passes a benchmark, as if she’s only a trained pet.
He named her Sunset - the End of Days, the Blazing Conclusion.
It doesn’t feel right.
---
An Autobot is captured and thrown in the brig.
She’s not supposed to know about it, but the foot soldiers are constant gossips, and despite her bright colors Sunset is small and slim and knows how to stay out of the way, unnoticed, so she can listen without anyone growing uneasy and editing their words.
She follows Starscream’s voice as he crosses the ship, bragging to Knockout about all the ways he’s already hurt the bot and all the options that yet remain. He says something about show off the human, but that- that makes something in her processor skip, data catching and coiling unhappily until she shoves the entire thread aside, focuses on sneaking down the corridors unseen.
Starscream and Knockout stay in the main interrogation room for a long time. Sunset finds a good perch to climb up and brace herself against, waiting. Eventually, the Air Commander and Doctor leave, radiating smug fields that overlap and make her tank churn.
No one else lingers in the hall. The regular patrol that circles through the brig won’t make another pass for 2.1 breems seventeen minutes so she needs to make this quick.
What exactly ‘this’ is, Sunset hasn’t quite figured out yet, but- but.
She needs to get into that room.
She needs to see the Autobot.
Blunt fingers pick at the door’s control panel, so she can tweak a few wires within. Sunset has access to most of the Nemesis, but not all. And just trying to blindly blunder around down here of all places will almost certainly send an alert to Soundwave, who will pass it along to Starscream, and then Sunset will really be in trouble. At least if the Eradicons catch her down here, she might be able to play the ‘I’m just a clueless little freshpaint’ card and keep them from reporting the incident-
All concerns of getting caught are wiped away in an instant, when she gets the door to slide open and sees the Autobot.
Cliffjumper
He’s bulky. Not elegant. Scuffed and scratched and missing chunks of plating, opening up his protoform to painful injury. He’s red, like her.
His name is Cliffjumper
“Back for more, Screamer?” He rasps, not looking up. Clamps around each arm and energy restraints keep him hanging from the ceiling. He isn’t actively leaking energon, but there’s an obvious puddle on the ground below his dangling legs.
Sunset is maybe about as tall as his chestplates. She’s supposed to be smaller.
Her lack of response must catch his attention. One blue optic weakly flickers to life, and the Autobot raises his head to peer towards the door. He sees her. His ragged ventilations stop. The silence crystalizes around them, something delicate, entirely too fragile like glass, like a thin wall separating breathable air from deadly gas-
And then the ‘bot gasps, “Sierra?” and corrupted data slams into her frontal processing hey kid want a lift You go to school with Jack Darby right My partner’s the one he got that motorcycle from Well it’s a bit of a long story Oh right I’m not the one who said I’m a remote-controlled car that was your line My name’s Cliffjumper Cliffjumper CLIFFJUMPER
It hurts.
Keening agony wells up from her spark- crackles through her voicebox- spills out her mouth. She staggers, almost falling to the ground, but- but she can’t, not while Cliff needs her-
“Sierra,” he repeats, alarmed, entire frame jolting as he strains against the restraints. She can hear the glyphs layered over it, utterly unlike the ones Starscream uses; warm and soft-edged, Cherished and Gift and Light of Dawn- “Kid-!”
A whine. A step. She needs to- to get to the controls. She has to. She has to save him-
He.
He tried to save her.
The glass cracked, and gravity twisted, the world spun, and Cliffjumper tried to save her.
Her hands find the control panel. She doesn’t waste time hacking it, only in seeking the right key sequence. The clamps disengage- Cliff drops to the floor- Cliff immediately shoves himself upright, sparks jumping from exposed circuits, and he’s halfway across the floor but he reaches out regardless-
Sierra slides in for the hug.
---
They have 1.8 breems- fourteen minutes before the regular patrol, potentially far less if Soundwave received an alert from the interrogation room’s controls. Sierra puts herself under Cliffjumper’s better arm, and helps him limp along as quick as they can, down another level and straight towards the nearest airlock.
She only has to shoot two Vehicons. She doesn’t pause to look and see if they were ones she liked.
Cliff doesn’t say a word about her wings, before or after Sierra transforms. He only asks, “You sure?” when she tells him to lay over her narrow cockpit.
“I won’t be able to gain altitude,” Sierra tells him. “But I can control our fall. Come on, we’re wasting time!”
They need to descend swiftly, get away from the shielding that surrounds the Nemesis and call-
Not base. Not the silo. Static catches in her voicebox, because she remembers, but the silo is gone now, Starscream took her to fly over its ruins and gloat-
Sierra shoves the memory files away. Cliff will call someone, he said they could get a groundbridge and they will. She isn’t going to let him die here, not at Starscream or Megatron or anyone else’s hands.
The airlock opens. Sierra fires her thrusters, straining under Cliffjumper’s weight. They take off, and immediately start dropping. But it’s okay, it’s fine, she can manage, she will manage, she will get to go-
-home.
Where is home, now?
Engines roar above them. Eradicons, taking flight from the top deck and descending fast. Sierra tracks them with her sensors, readies herself to spin and dodge as best she can with Cliffjumper clinging onto her wings - but it isn’t necessary.
Green light flares to life, directly below.
Where doesn’t matter. Home is with Cliffjumper.
They drop through the bridge.
#cyberkid!verse#sunset au#mun writes#this would be the variant where only Sierra's tube cracked#and Cliff tossed her into the Omega Lock's pool#as a last ditch alternative#to his kid dying in his hands#nothing came out of said pool by the time the team evacuated#everyone made the general assumption Sierra died anyway#Cliff gets depressed#does something Dumb and is captured#and finds himself looking at a newspark seeker#with red plating like his#and optics a familiar shade of green
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AITA for messing with bloodlines
For better or worse, I'm not actually talking about revenants in this case, though I do think that it would be great to bring those back. I miss having entire families dedicated to us.
I (250Tz) have been in business for quite a few years now. It does technically have a human facing front but my service is to kindred. And as it is cultivated towards kindred, it's in my best interests to cater to the needs of those around me. I wouldn't say that I have a huge herd of dolls available, but as they are for business purposes, I have more than what I specifically need.
I have an eclectic variety of dolls and I've worked hard to ensure that they are healthy and compensated for their time. There are a couple of them that I have my eye on right now that are ideal dolls, in my eyes. So, with this in mind, rather than going to collect new ones in some fifty years or so down the road, I thought that it would be better to get ahead of the game as it were.
So I'm looking into donors so my dolls can carry a next generation. I know that this is going to be a lot of work, obviously, but I have the time and means to do so and I'd like to try and see if this works out better than the other methods I've used to pick up dolls before this.
I'm not strictly in touch with my humanity as much as some think I should be, and when I brought up possibly having future generations, some of my current dolls appeared troubled.
Edit for clarification: I am not thinking of selling the use of underaged dolls. Anyone who wants something like that is welcome to join me in my workshop for a conversation.
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Essay Structure for Star Wars Archaeology
Inspired by a conversation I had a few weeks ago at a seminar in Lejre Sagnlandet about the potential of Prehistoric Archaeology in the star wars universe
#star wars#sw rebels#jedi#sw jedi#star wars jedi#sw lothal#lothal#star wars lothal#star wars archaeology#archaeology#mun writes#mun essays
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surprise gift for @cry-ptidd because i wanted to write a werewolf with a predatory side and a BAMF middle aged woman. partly inspired by a convo we had. i can probably be convinced to continue it.
closest you'll get to a TW is threats of gore and predatory behaviors. Laura is a werewolf.
Laura is not permitted to go hunting as often as she’d like; no outings into the night in general, much less the violent sort that ended with men’s limbs gripped between her snarling jaws as they cried in agony. That was almost never. But tonight must be special—her very own Sir Integra had deigned it a night she was allowed to go out. Not for a violent hunt, no, but for something to sate a different kind of hunger.
She stands in the head office at her master’s side where the traitor once stood, rigid in posture with her hands clasped at her front. The marble floor is painfully clean and shining, even under the low light of the too-high crystal chandeliers. Even after all these years, Integra’s wide mahogany desk and tall upright chair remain the only furniture in the room. An expendable agent stands before the two women, rattling something off from a newfangled tablet. It was the kind of technology that had an unpleasant whine in her ears more often than not.
But after listening to the nightly debrief from operational intelligence, Integra waves her hand. “It sounds like a sleepy night,” she muses, “truly a rarity.”
Laura finds herself tensing in anticipation, hair on her arms and the back of her neck standing on end. That wasn’t how Integra usually led into training exercises or the housework given on other dull evenings. The middle-aged heiress to the Hellsing name cracks open the center drawer of her desk to unearth a golden cigar case. Through the tall windows behind them, the dark sky and full moon called, speckled with the faintest of stars and framed by red curtains. The werewolf’s eyes widen a sliver and her nose twitches.
“Better than the alternative,” the man quips back with a smile, straightening the pages and laying them on Integra’s desk for her to review. The arteries in his neck pulse ever so faintly with his heartbeat. His hair is salt and pepper grey, with movements slow and sluggish in the werewolf’s eyes. If not for the red armband on his suit and the woman at her side, Laura would’ve thought him a fitful, lean snack.
“I suppose so,” she hums, “but I can’t leave my girls bored forever.” For a second, something flutters in Laura’s chest at the possessive tone. But she just as soon crushes it, forcing it away as Integra flicks open her case and plucks a cigar. “Laura.” Integra snips the end of the cigar for a crisp start. “Be a dear, will you?”
The werewolf reaches into the pocket of her apron and pulls out a golden lighter, offering a flame with a quick flick.
“Good girl.” The praise sends an imperceptible shudder down Laura’s back. “That will be all.” She replaces the lighter in her pocket and the lowly peon bows, turning his back to shuffle away like he wasn’t one wrong step from being picked up and shaken like a ragdoll.
They are far too comfortable around her.
The door clicks shut behind him, echoing in the high ceiling, and the ever-lovely Integra swivels her chair to look at the werewolf over the rim of her glasses. Laura just stares back at her piercing blue eye, waiting for an order.
“Do you think I should approve Seras’ request?” Integra asks before inhaling slowly from the cigar. The strong smell is almost enough to make Laura’s stomach churn with memories of dingy pubs and disgusting pigs but on her master? It is another matter entirely.
“What did she request?” the werewolf replies, nose almost wrinkling as Integra blows out another puff of smoke.
“A night on the town with you.” The Hellsing cracks a wry smile. Something in her eye glimmers. In the back of her mind, Laura wonders how long ago this request had been placed. They didn’t exactly go out frequently, and the vampiress frequently complained in her ear the next evening about how she’d snuck away.
“And why ask for my approval?” Laura’s hand twitches with the urge to brush a strand of hair, slipping from her ponytail, away from her eyes. Almost like she was a schoolgirl again. Distant memories of flowers crushed in her tense grip for some faceless young thing; a first crush. She swallows.
“Figured I’d see if you’d like to go,” Integra muses with the cigar between her lips, “If you were up for behaving tonight.” Heat almost rises to Laura’s cheeks at the thought of the last time, almost getting caught by all-too-perceptive humans. Funny that the woman hadn’t put together the teeth and the eyes until they were almost to her home. Funnier yet that Laura had been on her best behavior at the time and simply disappeared.
“I am bound to your command,” Laura replies gruffly, finally breaking eye contact to look away.
“Fine then.” Integra blows an almost playful puff of smoke at her. “I command you to accompany Seras for the night with nothing but your very best behavior.”
A smirk crawls up on Laura’s face at the thought of innocent women at the bar, straying like a young rabbit from its den. Tonight is a night for hunting bunny rabbits. With wide eyes and rosy cheeks. Soft skin and a dainty perfume. The big, bad wolf would eat them right up. “Oui, sir.”
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“You’re glowing.” or “Was that a kick?” with Mitsuoba, maybe? :3
“You’re glowing!”
Mitsuri squealed, lovingly wrapping her arms around her dark haired husband who was sitting on the engawa of their home. Obanai had been having a difficult pregnancy due to the size of their baby and the constant cravings, but he was eager to meet their child
“I dont know how much of a “glow” I have right now when it’s hard for me to move”
Obanai replied with one of his hands resting on his bump, which his pet snake Kaburamaru was slinked around in a protective coil like he was trying to guard thr baby. The shorter man always had a bit of issues with his self-esteem so the reassurance from his loving wife was rather welcomed even though he didn’t really accept it sometimes
“You are glowing Obi! Your skin looks amazing, your hair is soft and your eyes look more vibrant than usual!”
Mitsuri responded, sitting down behind him and lovingly wrapping her arms around him to rest her hands on the swell of his middle to both support it and feel the small kicks from their baby. “And your tummy’s so cute too!”the pink-haired woman added. Both of them never really expected this day to happen, but now they were close to welcoming a little being into the world
“I love you both so much…”
#mun writes#writing#mpreg#obanai iguro#mitsuri kanroji#obamitsu#the baby’s name is Mochi#writing promots#mun answers
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Jennifer couldn’t help but be captivated at the ocean. The water was so clear just earlier in the day, and now in the moonlight it perfectly reflected the sky above them. Only being broken by the ripples of fish moving just below it.
This moment alone made her bout of seasickness earlier in the day worth it. She’s never spent so much time on a boat but, the smell of the ocean breeze as it softly ran through her hair and the peacefulness that overcame her at this moment, she could get used to this.
She hears the sound of footsteps but, she’s already turned her gaze to the sky and doesn’t bother to look behind her. Not wanting to bear to turn her eyes away from the sight.
“I’m surprised you aren’t taking photos.” Matt said softly, looking up as he stood next to her.
“I actually just got done but... I’ve never seen anything like this before.” With all her years traveling, she doesn’t think she’s ever seen the sky so clear. Dotted with so many stars. Theirs constellations she’s never seen till today. The only other time she’s seen a sky, this close to being clear, was when she went camping. The white noise of ocean waves, forever more pleasing to her ear than the sounds of bugs when she went camping,
“Yeah, it’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Matt said, not even bothering to hide the fact he was looking right at her. He was standing on her blind side after all, so her peripheral vision kept him in the clear to admire her all she liked.
The way the moonlight cast her in a gentle, soft glow. Highlighting her features. The way her eyes seemed brighter in the light, the slope of her nose, her plush lips, how her hair curled around her face, the way her neck seemed longer now that she was looking up. The look of pure awe on her face as she looked at the sky above them.
He truly loved every part of her. If only he had a camera to capture her.
“I think I get it now...” She whispered.
“Hm?” For a moment he’s worried he accidentally tuned a bit of her out, too busy looking at her.
“Why you love the ocean so much.... It really is pretty.” And it’s now she turns to look at him. His heart skips a beat at the smile she gives him.
“Well... the fact I’m the god of storms probably plays a bigger role.” He jokes. His reward is to hear her laugh, and he falls more in love with her. “But... yeah. I really do love the ocean. I find few things can compare to it’s beauty.”
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Gylfie's Lullaby
based on this song also tagging @tarnishedxknight because it's relevant to our Balfonheim au sdfgjdf
The storms in Balfonheim were different than the storms in Archades. Here, they were empowered by the sea - gathering strength and speed as the wind howled and waves crashed upon the shore. As the rain pelted the streets and buildings - lending no mercy to anything unsheltered. Lending no care to the late hour, though, mayhap, a mercy to some, who could fall asleep to such noise.
It was a mercy Gylfie was not privy to that night, however. For one who once could sleep whenever she could afford, regardless of conditions or time or place, it was simply elusive. Her mind was well awake with the thoughts of her old life. Of Drace and Gabranth. Of the Empire she still loved and now feared. Of whether or not one day she would be found, and if she would lose everything that had come to mean the most to her. She tried not to think such things, not when she knew she was under the protection of Reddas and his crew, in the port city that was both a safe haven for pirates and far from the interest of the Empire. Not when she had the man she loved the most at her side, and a daughter she would do anything to protect.
But her mind sometimes got the best of her, and the storm did little to ease her nerves. She was ever still as she sat by the window - unflinching even as lightning split the sky before it was chased by the dull boom of thunder - and simply held herself tighter. She thought of her beloved mentors, and wondered how they were doing as her heart shuddered with grief. While not tied to her by blood, they had been the family she had been forced to leave behind, and... gods, did it pain her. She wrote to them when she could, cautious not to do it frequently and draw suspicion, and always signed with a small drawing of an olean flower, but that did little to ease her grief. She wanted to see them again. To hear their voices again. Gods, she wanted nothing more than to just introduce her daughter to them - especially to Drace. If only she could have stayed, yet...
Gylfie's gaze dropped with another flash of lightning. As another crash of thunder followed quicker and louder than before. Despite her pain, she did not regret coming to Balfonheim. She did not regret asking Caelen to run away with her. What she regretted... was that it was because her hand had been forced, and not because she had decided to choose him over her career. Because as much as she missed Archades and her mentors and even her station, this... was something that filled a hole in her heart she had tried so desperately to ignore. Not that she had ever dreamed of becoming a mother, but she had wanted domesticity. To have someone she loved and someone who loved her at her side. To have the comfort of a lover, as selfish, mayhap, as that wish was. She had wanted both this comfort and her career, many months ago, but to have one over the other, this was what she wanted.
Had Vayne revealed the truth of her disappearance? It was he who forced her hand, after all, though a bitter part of her wondered if she ought to thank him. Although she knew not how, he had learned of her pregnancy and confronted her about it, and the ultimatum he had given her was one she could never accept. It was one she could not bring herself to tell Caelen, or anyone else, for that matter. But she still wondered if it was known, or if Drace and Gabranth had been able to cover her after all, or if Vayne had decided it not worth his time or effort. She hoped for the latter, even as she stayed up with the raging storm, with her paranoia eating at the back of her mind and telling her they were still not safe. That danger lurked just outside, far more than the rain and the lightning and the thunder, even as she told herself there was nothing to fear. That she was far from danger, and the safety provided and ensured by Reddas extended to her and her family just as it did everyone else in Balfonheim.
It was not enough to encourage her to go back to bed, with her mind torn between her fears and her past, even despite the promise of warmth and comfort she found in Caelen. Despite the temptation of being able to curl against him and to breathe in his scent, and get lost in the safety of his arms and the fantasy they would forever be safe. Despite that... she was starting to feel a chill, and a heaviness in her chest that threatened to choke her. Gods above, did she love him more than anything, but there were times she felt... overwhelmed. Isolated and underwater. Mayhap it... it was the hound still in her, born from the loyalty for the Empire bred into it, from the loyalty that had bled her time and time again, that made her feel this way. That made her feel the need to return with her tail between her legs, to show her belly and her throat and beg for forgiveness, as if she would not rip apart anyone who would dare threaten or attempt to take her away from her family. As if did not feel enough pain. As if she had not been chased from the Empire to begin with.
And, mayhap, it was motherhood that had brought her to such a state. After all, she had never wanted to be a mother, and it had been planned that Caelen would raise their child so she could continue her service to the Empire. Which, in hindsight, was a thought that made Gylfie want to laugh something bitter and angry, but had been the truth all the same. He would raise their child while she continued to be an obedient hound, and she would continue her visits and watch from afar - a stranger to her own flesh and blood and a distant lover to the man she should have never fallen in love with. But everything changed and had only worsened her mental state with her progressing pregnancy, and--
The whole house lit aglow as lightning blinded the sky, causing even Gylfie to squeeze her eyes shut and flinch away, as thunder roared above and seemed to rattle the house. As it made clear the storm was now right above them, and showed no signs of easing as the rain continued to hammer down with the quieting rumble. As darkness once more engulfed the port and swallowed the house.
As a small cry was nearly drowned out by the rain.
There was not a moment of hesitation as Gylfie got to her feet and hurried to the nursery - her heart in her throat. The blood in her ears drowned out the sound of the storm outside. What was it that had caused Myra's distress? Had someone broken in? Oh, gods above, if anyone dare lay a single finger on her daughter--
The light from the magicite lamp she ignited revealed nothing amiss. The curtains hiding the window were still and shut. The chair had not moved and neither had the crib. There was no other soul there, aside from herself and the crying babe, and the emptiness offered a relief that could have made her dizzy, if it were not for her daughter. As her heart still pounded in her chest, trying to settle as her hands shook, Gylfie moved to the crib, and felt her relief get washed away by her sympathy.
Myra wailed again - her tiny face scrunched as she squirmed beneath her blanket. For one so small, her cries pierced through the raging storm outside, and seemed almost loud enough to rival even the thunder that answered back and the lightning that illuminated the room from behind the curtains. A sound that would surely wake Caelen, if it had not already roused him.
With a gentle hush, Gylfie reached down, and carefully scooped her crying baby into her arms before she kissed her forehead. Her heart aching as Myra continued to cry. "'Tis alright, my little one," she soothed as she rocked her. As she held her as tight as she could without hurting her, and as she gently brushed her thumb over her daughter's cheeks. "The storm cannot hurt you, Myra. I promise you, I will never let anything hurt you for as long as I am here." She carefully shifted her baby in her hold, and held her close to her chest so Myra's head was resting over her heart. As she held her tight and began to sway slowly with her to help settle her, and as she felt a sense of calm wash upon her as she focused on soothing Myra. Gods, how strange it was to feel such a sense of peace in such a position. To feel so... content.
Though, even as her daughter grasped at her with tiny fists, Myra still cried. Quieter, now that she was in her arms, but the storm had no care for the comfort of a babe, and how could such a small thing like her understand she was safe? With a gentle murmur, Gylfie nuzzled her, and continued to sway with her. "You're okay. You're alright," she sang - her voice soft, but just loud enough to be heard over the rain. "I'll never, ever leave your side. I will stay, I will fight, with you."
She hummed as she rubbed Myra's back, and rested her cheek upon her head as if to shield her from the storm. She held her close and secure, and continued to hum even as her daughter's cries turned into muffled whimpers. Even as she began to settle in her arms despite the rain and the thunder and the lightning. Even as Gylfie could not help but... feel it so strange that, not that long ago, she felt no connection to her precious baby. A disconnect so sharp, she felt a stranger in her own body as she nursed her, and felt nothing but discomfort until the agonizing thought of Alsga feeling the same with her tore a horrid realization that Myra could grow up feeling unwanted the same way she had changed everything.
Oh, how it had killed her to grow up feeling that way. To know she had been something of a burden on her mother - a disappointment and a mistake - and to know Takrin had loathed her from the very beginning. Her parents had not been her parents, and she had not felt the love of a mother and father until she had found herself a family with Drace and Gabranth, when they had taken the risk to mentor her. To sponsor her to become a Judge when Takrin had done everything he could to chase her out of the military completely - when he had denied her that rank and kept her nothing more than a guard and training fodder. She had never wanted to be a mother, and pregnancy was something she never wanted to experience again, but to be the cause of such hurt in such a fragile thing as Myra was a pain that damn near broke her.
No. For as long as she lived, she would make certain her baby knew she was loved and wanted. That she was safe with her and Caelen, no matter what.
Gylfie nuzzled her again before she tenderly kissed Myra's head as she continued to hum, and felt her heart swell with such love as she realized her daughter had finally settled. As her precious baby stayed snuggled against her, with her little head resting over her heart, and her eyes closed and her expression peaceful rather than frightened, even as the storm continued to rage outside. The rain still pounded onto the house as another bolt of lightning disrupted the gentler glow of the lamp, yet again chased by a roar of thunder that once again seemed to shake their home.
But the storm was outside, and her family was safe. The vipers of the Empire were not at their doorstep that night, and nor would they lurk in her mind, as she continued to gently sway with her daughter.
"You're okay. You're alright," she sang softly, "I'll stay here through the darkest night. All the way, I will fight, with you."
#((tbh when I first heard the song I was more associating it with Gylfie to Gabranth after he killed Drace#bUT I got the idea in my head of Gylfie singing it to baby Myra and had to write it sdfjghkfd))#mun writes
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So I will dance with Cinderella ( Papa Ozymandias and Gudako)
Author's note: This idea struck me while I was listening to Cinderella by Steven Curtis Chapman and coincidentally remember a small fandom in Pixiv, making Ozymandias a father figure to Gudako. These characters are from Fate Grand Order.
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When did the time go? Ah it is really a hassle for such a radiant being such as I, the King of Kings and the incarnation of the Sun god Ra, the shining God King Ozymandias. Time is a fickle being that eludes even I. Yet that little girl, the Chaldean master, whose golden eyes glows nearly similar to such I, seem to be content lazing her days away although she does show potential.
Yet when did she became as dear to him, as what his beloved and younger brother is to him?
She spins and she sways to whatever song plays Without a care in the world And I'm sitting here wearing The weight of the world on my shoulders
She got better at fighting, ever since I first lay my eyes on her, her bravery, her foolishness, her courage...
Silly child. She leads her servants with such determination, even as the world and the universe itself began to test her mettle.
She is still a child at the end of the day, her youth and her charisma. I do not know why but I often wish she could have enjoyed her years like her peers.
Instead she acts as a hero, therapist, a king (such a title befitting such as her), master, and other terms that best describe this child.
I have no idea why we began to spend time together, of course the other servants make such remarks about us being seen often. Ha, romantic partners? No one can beat his beloved Queen in that category.
That child just makes his heart clench.
It's been a long day and there's still work to do She's pulling at me saying, "Dad, I need you There's a ball at the castle and I've been invited And I need to practice my dancin' Oh, please, daddy, please"
"Pleeeeease Pharaoh!" Gudako puts her hands together in a begging position. "Can you please teach me?? The others are busy and you're a Pharaoh once, surely you can teach me!?" she looks up pitifully. I laugh loudly "Ho! You ask for my assistance little mage? Very well!" I then pat her head "I expect I shall be rewarded me more of your current age's technology, Gold one and I need more games to compete!"
"Yes yes yes! And thank you! I don't know why Marie wanted a ball." Gudako sighs "Oh shoot I better get the Cu group to the training room, I'll see you later Pa-" she froze and turns red. "S-sorry!" Pa...?
...hahaha...
I cover my eyes as I laugh. Of course, that is the answer, how could I, the Great Pharaoh of Egypt, forget?
"I permit you to address me such, Gudako." I pat her head as she gape at me. She then smiles wide.
So I will dance with Cinderella While she is here in my arms 'Cause I know something the prince never knew Oh, I will dance with Cinderella I don't want to miss even one song 'Cause all too soon the clock will strike midnight And she'll be gone
Ah the ball, granted what he usually held back then is different from what the Queen of France is doing. It is unseemly for I to not attend. The King of Knights, the male one, and Golden One are beside me, we the Kings should observe how the children are to act. (King of Knight enough of those potato dishes, you act no different from your counterparts).
"Papa!" Golden one stare at me incredulously "She address you as a father?" his red eyes scan me. "Ho, are you envious that a child of her ability address me such? Such a worthy child as well." I slyly raise my wine. He snort "Hardly, Sun King. She is still a mongrel though worthy in my older self's eyes. I make exceptions to that." he sips his wine. I turn around to see Gudako-- I could not breathe. She looks beautiful, like a goddess, a princess-- Princess... his little princess... "What do you think papa?" she smiles at me "I ho--" "Radiant." I whisper to her "You are as radiant as the stars in the sky, little one." I extend my hand to her "Are you not going to dance with your father, little one?" I smiled softly to her. (I shall ignore those annoying light flashes from those cameras, honestly back in his days memories are more precious, living the moment than trying to capture a moment you are not in.)
Gudako giggles at me as she accepts my hand. "Of course I will dance with you papa!" I spun her slowly as our feet moves with the rhythm, as the minutes pass, those horrendous thoughts resurface... She's mortal, she could be attack at anytime... but for now, a dance will preserve their time together.
I held her hand a bit tightly, squeezing it a bit but not too hard.
For now, she is in my arms, dancing as her laughter echoes.
She says he's a nice guy and I'd be impressed She wants to know if I approve of the dress She says, "Dad, the prom is just one week away And I need to practice my dancin' Oh, please, daddy, please"
"What in Ra's name is prom..?" I look at Gudako as she and I went to the market-- mall. "All I see is a dance event similar to balls except with more alcohol for underage children like you." I mumbled
"It is like a rite of passage, Edison told me those around my age do this when they are in school." she tug me "Everyone is holding a Chaldean version of it. They say in America parents take their children to go shopping for the clothes~" she giggles.
Honestly those dresses do not fit her at all. "Such folly, little one." Although it is to be expected, I am use to her antics after all these years. "I can host events just for you."
Ah brother... my beloved Nefertari, you would adore her.
"Eh the point is it'll be among my age." she then grins "Buuuut--" I laugh "Ah you have yet to master dancing? Even when I started to mentor you for a few years? Perhaps you should cut back your habit playing with the sphinxes and stop skipping those lessons." I tease.
"Ah but papa!" she whines "You gave them to me!" she pouts. "Also I though you like--" "As a peer but not as a suitor to a child of mine." grumbling, an idea struck me "Honestly must you entertain his courtship? You, who I adopt and love as my own, shall be a Queen of her own Kingdom and lead legions of worthy servants, why, I can create a magnificent pyramid for you!"
Why do you even need to go away? You're still a child- my child.
"Papa! He's a nice guy and he helps me!"
"Well Golden One is not so nice but he helps, King of Knights is nice but a glutton--"
"Uncle Gilgil and Uncle Arthur are different!"
So I will dance with Cinderella While she is here in my arms 'Cause I know something the prince never knew Oh-oh-oh-oh, I will dance with Cinderella I don't want to miss even one song 'Cause all too soon the clock will strike midnight And she'll be gone
Her smiles eventually crack, her eyes dull, the world is so cruel. She collapses into my arms, another lostbelt. More blood on her hands.
I raise my staff to erect some sort of barrier, to not disturb her respite.
I want to take you away from here.
I gently run my hand through her hair, I suddenly heard someone entering. "You dare intrude my--" oh.. it is THAT boy. That--
He held his weapon tightly, eyes glowing with determination. "I am here for her, Pharaoh. Do what you must but you can't control what I want."
Insolent! Foppish, foolish, arrogant, wretched--
"Papa please..." she tugs my cape.
Why...?
She will be gone
If I left you go to him, then...
"Papa!" an echo of her younger voice rings in my head, I tried not to think.
I...
My little princess, where did you go..?
But she came home today with a ring on her hand Just glowing and telling us all they had planned She says, "Dad, the wedding's still six months away But I need to practice my dancin' Oh, please, daddy, please"
Golden one stares at me, a brow raise as he slides in a glass of wine for me. "Sun King, years already passed." he began.
I grumbled.
He scoffs "That boy, as much I regret saying such thing about mongrels, has proven himself. Did he not risk his life for her?"
"And so did the rest of us! And he is a servant! Can he truly give her the life she deserves!?"
Can I?
Pity flash across his eyes, oh perhaps my noble phantasm can erase his--
"Sun King, not everything stays the same nor shall anyone can escape the passage of time." he then gestures to where my princess is.
I froze, the white dress on her, the veil. She looks just as radiant, his little princess.
Soon a Queen to her King.
"Papa!" Gudako waves at me, a familiar twinkle in her eyes. Ah, even after all these years?
"She is still your princess, Sun King." a hand on my shoulder. "Ever the foolish inside even as she grows. Now go, your sulking is distasteful and frankly sickening."
I walk towards her, this time, it is my hand that is accepting hers. She grins up at me.
The wedding will be held six months from now...
When did the time go? Such a hassle for such a radiant being such as I, the King of Kings and the incarnation of the Sun god Ra, the shining God King Ozymandias. Time is kind yet cruel, it gives and takes.
So for now... as I dance and sway with her.
For now she is still my princess until the day I will lead her to the altar. For now I am her dance partner until that day.
"Thank you for dancing with me, papa." Gudako said to me in a lowly voice. "I love you papa."
A...ah... This child makes his heart clench.
"I love you too, my princess..."
I held her hand a bit tightly, squeezing it a bit but not too hard, just as before but this time a tear escape from my eye.
For now, she is in my arms, dancing as her laughter echoes.
So I will dance with Cinderella While she is here in my arms 'Cause I know something the prince never knew Oh-oh-oh-oh, I will dance with Cinderella I don't want to miss even one song 'Cause all too soon the clock will strike midnight And she'll be gone
#fate grand order#fgo#fgo fujimaru ritsuka#fate gudako#fgo gudako#fgo ozymandias#fate ozymandias#fate gilgamesh#fgo gilgamesh#my writing#mun writes#fgo fanfic
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Insatiable
Pairing - Wriothesley x fem! Reader
Summary - Wriothesley loves you like crazy and fucks you hard. That's it. Lol
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“You know, it’s a full time job keeping this greedy cunt satisfied…” Wriothesley rasped in his husky voice close to y/n's ears. She moaned as Wriothesley fingered her, spreading her juices around inside her to relax and prepare her for his big cock. Given his huge size, he'd need to prepare her well. And he was a giver at heart, seeing her in pleasure was his pleasure.
Pumping his thick fingers inside her, he tapped onto a spot which he knew well to make her tremble. Y/n inhaled sharply, hissing as she was so close to the precipice. Wriothesley rubbed the pad of his thumb over and over her clit, driving his fingers, assaulting her G-spot, and y/n was overwhelmed with the barrage of pleasure. A fine sheen of sweat misted her body as her hips bucked to his thrusting wrist; she came with a shrill cry of climax, quivering all over, pleasure radiating in waves from her sex towards her entire being. Her wetness coated his fingers and her thighs as he slowly pulled them out of her squelching hole.
Unable to wait any longer with a raging hard-on, Wriothesley kissed y/n, tongue fucking her smart little mouth. He lifted her hips, placing his large calloused palms over her plump, creamy thighs, urging her knees to her chest. Then he lowered his protruding cock to her entrance, inch by delicious inch. The slippery, bulbous head slipped and disappeared instantly inside her, and he slammed down onto her with a single downward thrust. It was always a tight fit no matter how much the prep. But watching her struggle to take him ignited a flame inside him like no other. It made him
feral, a sense of animalistic possessiveness blooming in his chest along with a sense of pride that only he could ever make her feel so damn full.
“Ah, Fuuuck! You’re so tight!” Wriothesley groaned, his filthy praises making Y/n's walls ripple around his shaft, squeezing him like a tight fist. "Wrio, please slow down!" She pushed onto his broad and unyielding chest in a futile attempt to request for a pause. Y/n moaned and squeezed her insides involuntarily, eliciting a growl from him. He picked up the rhythm, slow and steady, yet so hard and deep while his fingers wove magic on her clit and his other hand busied itself on her bouncing tits, flicking them restlessly. “Grab the pillow, and don’t let go.” Wriothesley demanded possessively.
Then he drove his big cock to the root into her tight wet pussy, working it up like a battering ram, shoving her up the bed. His weighty testicles slapped her ass, a sound so erotic that it turned each other on; he got harder, she got wetter. Squelching sounds of their pumping sex speared the air along with y/n's gasps and Wriothesley's grunts of pleasure. Her nipples, now hard as little pebbles bounced along on their round breasts, teasing and tickling Wriothesley's chest. Sweat shimmied down from his godlike body onto her pert tits, causing her to tingle all over.
“Don’t come. Make it last.” Wriothesley whispered huskily into her ear, sucking on her earlobe, fucking her at a speed which only a man of his divine physique was able to achieve.
“W-what?-mmh, ngh, ah, AHH…” y/n whimpered as he speared his big, rock-hard cock into her hot wet depths. She twisted her fingers and bit her lip, gripping the pillow with white knuckled force in an attempt to stave off her rapidly building climax.
“Oh, Wrio… I’m going to come if you don’t slow down…” y/n begged.
"Oh no baby, you don't get to come until I say so." He whispered into her ears, feeling her shiver with the dominant edge to his command. This is exactly what drove her desires wild. His possession, his control, his ability to hold her body in a state of continuous, deliriou, all consuming arousal. He knew she wanted it just like that. He knew she got off to having her body at his mercy. It took the weight off her shoulders. In his arms she felt so liberated, so loved, so carefree, so helpless, unable to do a thing while he bullied her pussy into submission like the whore that she was for him.
Wriothesley then angled his thrusts, y/n could feel the plush wide crest of his cock rubbing on a sweet, sweet spot deep inside her. Her lips quivered involuntarily in anticipation for orgasm, but she tried her best to stop the dam from bursting, to make it last…
“Please, Wrio…I c-can’t…” she moaned helplessly as her toes curled in tiny tingles of shockwaves.
“Don’t you want to cum, baby?” Wriothesley teased. “Come y/n, just cum on my cock. That's it, just like that, my beautiful little slut-"
He couldn't even finish and y/n was thrown over the edge. With his dirty praises she came, crying out his name, the sheets bunching under her iron grasp. Her back bowed up into Wriothesley's big body, shuddering as the sheer force of the climax wreaked havoc on all her senses. Her arms fumbled around to have him to hold on to and she scratched up his muscular back.
White light burst into dazzling fireworks underneath her closed eyelids. She screamed out garbled versions of Wriothesley's name, unable to form coherent speech as pleasure spiked through her in jolts of electricity. Tears prickled her eyes and flowed down her cheeks. Goosebumps ran up her arms, her toes curled as pleasure unfurled in her womb, her nipples beaded as her skin was so oversensitive. Her hot wet slick coated his pistoning cock and balls and seeped out of her onto the sheets.
Wriothesley was close behind, thrusting through her orgasm. Her climax had her inner walls rippling and clamping down on him, making his climax inevitable. He whispered to her his praises of how she was such a good girl, so obedient, so pliant, so submissive, so beautiful, how much he loved her, how lucky he was to have her, and how blessed he was that his lover craved everything he'd always wanted to give. His thrusts became erratic and then he came with a growl, his back arching, chest pinning her down onto the bed, stilling and emptying himself inside her with thick strings of hot, sticky cum. His Adams apple bobbed as he groaned in release. Y/n could feel him spurt and spill his essence deep in her, and it felt like a million feather-light fingers tickling and teasing her insides. She gasped and panted, fighting for breath and feeling incredibly full.
Resting himself on his arms, with himself still lodged inside her, he gave her one of his sexiest smirks, his rapid breaths slowly coming down to normal. She smiled back breathlessly, love and affection blooming in the depths of her eyes. Wriothesley leaned down to kiss her forehead, her nose, her cheeks and finally her lips. He held her close, wrapping his arms around her, melding her body to his. Then he whispered into her ears "Are you sore, or can you take me again?"
#wriothesley smut#wriothesley x reader#wriothesley x you#minors dni#minors do not interact#genshin impact#genshin x reader#genshin smut#wriothesley#mun writes
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"No matter what they made you think, you are worth saving. You are worth loving." with darknsweet and his aus Norman (forgot his nickname)
"Worthy"
Norman/Sammy, Hurt/Comfort
Warnings: mild swearing, mildly dark thoughts, two men kissing
Wordcount: 10147
Happy birthday Sammy, lmao
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It was such a nice day. The birds were singing. The trees rustled in the wind. The sun was slowly moving toward the horizon. Even the Lost Ones, the most cautious and tense creatures of the studio, were especially relaxed now. For the first time in decades, they looked… so happy. The only one who stood out was Sammy. While everyone was getting ready for the evening and night, he was just sitting some distance away, looking at the sun and the fluffy clouds around him.
Norman was concerned. Sammy had been there for at least a couple hours now. At first the projectionist hadn't wanted to bother him, thinking the prophet was making plans for their life outside the studio. But now Sammy's behavior seemed odd.
Along with taking a couple steps toward Sammy, Norman turned around and met eyes with Sarah. She was helping to organize the fire, carrying a bundle of twigs, and froze when Norman looked at her. After a couple of seconds of silent staring, she nodded her head gently toward the musician, signaling that it was the projectionist who should talk to him. The Lost One realized that Sammy would only open up to someone he absolutely trusted. If she or anyone else tried to talk to him, he would push them away. It had taken many years, but now Sarah understood that. With a final nod to Norman as well, Sarah withdrew to the others. The one-eyed man headed toward Sammy, who was sitting on the grass.
The musician didn't even notice he was being approached until Norman started talking.
"Sammy, are you okay?" - the projectionist asked. The musician flinched involuntarily and turned around, coming face to face with a worried Norman.
Sammy gave him a little smile.
"Yeah, it's okay," his voice sounded as soft and confident as ever. But clearly unused to having a face now, the musician couldn't hide his tired eyes and strained smile.
"Uh, no, you don't look okay," Norman replied. Sammy's smile became even more strained and awkward. Norman could see through him, and Sammy didn't like it.
"You're just imagining things," the musician squeezed out. He thought his nonexistent heart clenched when the projectionist sighed.
Norman glanced around cursorily. Behind him was the camp of the Lost Ones. Too many eyes and ears. No matter how hard you tried, Sammy wouldn't say anything. The one-eyed man shrugged.
"Whatever you say. But you know what? I found a remote spot with a nice view. You want to watch the sunset from there?"
The former prophet hesitated, looking away from Norman for a few seconds. But he nodded and stood up, shaking the dust off his pants.
"All right, let's go."
Norman led him away from the camp, to a small hill a few hundred meters away. Even though Norman's main purpose was to get Sammy away to talk, he didn't lie about the beautiful view the two inky men had in front of them.
Now that they were alone, the projectionist hoped that the one-actor show would stop playing out in front of him. He moved a little closer so that their shoulders were lightly touching.
"Sammy, be honest, is something wrong?"
The musician looked back at him for a second, quickly averting his gaze and looking up at the pinking sky. He frowned slightly, thinking. Then exhaled, admitting defeat.
"Nothing much has happened. It's just…I'm tired."
Now it was Norman's turn to frown.
"Hey, didn't we agree that you'd go to take a nap when you were tired? I thought you learned how to turn that "radio" thing off when you wanted to."
"Yeah, I've kinda learned to do that," Sammy sighed, pulling up his knees and resting his head on them. "But for some reason, I keep hearing voices sometimes."
"Their voices?" - Norman raised an eyebrow. The musician shook his head.
"They sound different. Or he, I'm not sure," noticing Norman's tilted head, Sammy clarified. "It's like one voice is trying to sound different. Whispering, changing the tone and manner of speech," the musician spread his hands.
"And what does he or they tell you?" The projectionist tilted his head slightly toward him.
Sammy looked away. It was unexpected to see guilt and... fear on his face?
"It doesn't matter".
"Ohoho, nah, you're not walking away from it now. What are they telling you in there?"
"U-um... It's…nothing special," Sammy squeezed his head into his shoulders a little. He flinched slightly when his hand was touched.
"Sammy, don't try to make excuses. I'm serious," Norman's tone made Sammy relax a little, looking down at his feet with a guilty puppy dog look.
"He says a lot of things."
"What kind of things?"
The musician sighed again.
"Like…that I don't deserve to be here." While his boyfriend froze in shock, Sammy continued. Surprisingly, the musician sounded calm. "That I didn't deserve anything good. I didn't deserve this body. I didn't deserve to be free from the studio."
"That's bullshit," Norman's voice cut through. But before he could continue, Sammy, as if in a trance, spoke again.
"I think that's the only thing that's fair. I've been lying for a very long time. I've used everyone around me. I've caught and killed innocent people… I guess it's their restless souls that haunt me. It's my fault. I shouldn't have become a leader. I didn't deserve it. I didn't deserve your love. I didn't deserve to be saved."
Sammy was stopped by Norman's fingers touching the musician's lips.
"That's enough. No one dares speak like that about the one I love," Norman spoke low and quiet, looking at him with an incredibly serious expression on his face. "Not you, not some fucking voice in your head."
Sammy tried to concentrate on looking at the grass and his boots. A typical reaction for him. Norman gently took him by the chin, turning him to face him. The musician stiffened, seeing how the movie mechanic's gaze was filled with worry and…tenderness.
"Sammy, listen carefully to what I'm about to say. No matter what these voices tell you. No matter what they made you think, you are worth saving. You are worth loving. Everything you've done, you've done for our good. No matter how horrible you think your actions are, they don't change the fact that you more than anyone else deserve a good ending."
Silence.
They looked at each other and it was as if time had stopped for them. The rays of the slowly setting sun painted everything around them in warm colors. The birds were quiet. The wind stopped blowing.
Everything stood still.
Norman moved his hand slightly and placed it on Sammy's cheek. The one-eyed man moved toward him, already thinking of realizing his long-held dream.
But he stopped.
And instead just kissed his forehead.
"Understood?"
He gave the musician a quick smile, letting him go and sitting up straight, finally turning his attention to the view.
"What a view he-" Norman didn't have time to finish, frozen like a statue by the feel of something at the corner of his mouth. Sammy, who was much closer than before, pulled back with a barely noticeable smile.
"Thank you. Maybe one day I'll be able to believe what you say."
No, it was just a crime to tease him like that.
Or was that consent?
The mechanic couldn't think about it. His only desire forbade him to be distracted by anything. Putting one hand on the musician's shoulder and taking his chin again with the other, he turned him toward him and kissed him.
For real this time.
Norman's head stopped working. The mechanisms in his chest hummed. There was a sudden sweetness on his tongue. He would have been glad to spend eternity like that. But he was stopped by Sammy's hands resting on his shoulders.
Now, looking at his face, Norman realized that … fucked up. Sammy just stared at him in shock.
Golden eyes wide open. Mouth slightly open. A flushed face.
A flushed face?
The scarlet rays of the nearly set sun lay calmly on the white inky skin. The musician seemed to be flushed, which actually suited his dazed expression very well. It was incredibly cute.
What Norman couldn't know was that he had the same panicked and flushed face. The newly formed couple turned away from each other, dying a little inside.
"W-what was that?"
"A kiss?"
"That doesn't feel like anything you've done before!" The musician put his palm to his lips, hundreds of thoughts swarming in his head. "You never came in my mouth before."
"…Was it disgusting?" The projectionist spoke more softly, as if the air had been cut off. A mistake like that would be hard to undo. With worry, he took a quick glance at the musician.
He was surprised and relieved to find his eyes shining brightly.
"…M-my first impulse was to bite your tongue off," he muttered, still not daring to look at Norman. "But…I can't say that…it was disgusting. It was just…very unexpected," Norman was bumped on his shoulder. "Don't do something like that without asking beforehand!"
That got a couple of weak chuckles out of the one-eyed man, and he was able to relax.
"…Too bad our first kiss was such a mess…maybe we should try again?"
The intonation with which Norman said it made Sammy wince a little. The red rays perfectly matched his slightly panicked expression. But Sammy tried to respond, making his voice sound just as cheeky as the projectionist's. The face the musician tried to make to match the tone still looked very awkward.
"…You're a sly one, Mr. Polk," he wanted to say something else, but forgot all the words as he turned and almost bumped his nose into Norman's. There were now several centimeters between their faces. The one-eyed man continued to stare at him mockingly and insolently.
Though the musician tried to hide his embarrassment and even some panic, the projectionist had long ago made it clear that he saw right through Sammy.
"I'm also very brazen," Norman said in a much lower voice. Thanks to his ability to keep a brick face and the lack of blood, otherwise they'd both be red-faced like little schoolboys on a first date. "... May I?"
The projectionist's gaze shifted for a second to the former prophet's lips and then immediately returned to his eyes. The second of silence that hung between them seemed like an eternity.
Until Sammy almost moved in, copying Norman's tone.
"You may."
#batim#bendy and the ink machine#sammy#sammy lawrence#norman#norman polk#the projectionist#sammy x norman#normmy#batim au#among the broken minds#darknsweet#sweettooth#mun writes#batim fanfic#batim fanfiction#batim fic#ask to tag#SORRY IT TOOK ME LITERALLY YEARS TO WRITE THIS#ANYWAY IMMA DIE REAL QUICK
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Hey so I know it's been ages but in light of things, know that I am still here if you want to just hang out (old mooties know where to find me)
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Whumptober Day 23: Forced Choice/Broken Pedestal
He forgot what didn’t feel right.
He forgot- forgetting.
Until those words.
Until Sentinel Not-Prime loomed over him, and something way in the back of B-127’s processor went- click
(/slaps THIS down onto the table)
(@mnemoiisms @badassitron I BLAME YOU TWO)
#behind the curtain#mun writes#mnemoiisms#badassitron#fool's gold au#or whatever you guys call it#the one where B is Sentinel's kid#I took it and RAN and YOU GUYS are responsible
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Chapters: 1/? Fandom: Call of Duty (Video Games), Supernatural (TV 2005) Rating: Mature Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Characters: Task Force 141 Ensemble, Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester Additional Tags: Alternate Universe, death doesn't always stick, just ask dean, I will take the canon and fix it Summary:
The world is falling into Chaos and Task Force 141 needs to learn how to deal with it quickly. The undead are all around the world and everyone has a different idea of how they should be dealt with. Some want them gone, others want them healed and Price just wants to come out of this alive with his men.
Sam and Dean Winchester have accidentally unleashed an apocalypse and they have no choice but to try to clean it up as best they can. Demons wander the earth, zombies are crawling out of their graves, and Castiel is being cagey about how they might be able to fix this.
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