#and now us!! from the beginning!! has returned to him

[cajon-desastre]

Fangirlish Interviews

INTERVIEW: Sam Heughan And Caitriona Balfe On Jamie & Claire’s Growth in Outlander

Outlander Season 7 Part 2 has us in stitches! We sat down with Sam Heughan and Caitriona Balfe in a roundtable interview to talk about Jamie & Claire’s growth. They also discussed the challenges the two face in Season 7, Part 2 and the legacy they leave behind. Ready? 

Here we go!

The return to Lallybroch in Outlander Season 7 Part 2

One of the most special moments in Outlander Season 7 Part 2 is the return to Lallybroch, the ancestral home of the Frasers. For Caitriona Balfe, this location is not only a space full of history in the series but also a fundamental place in the evolution of her character, Claire. 

Talking about Lallybroch immediately brings us back to the moment when Claire shares her secret with her family. Balfe reflected on how that revelation shook the relationship between Claire and Jenny: “When there are secrets between people, it prevents them from fully connecting. For Claire and Jenny, this revelation meant being able to close that shift between them regarding their relationship and friendship. It was wonderful to return to that place where so much has happened for the characters.”

For his part, Sam Heughan highlighted the meaning of Lallybroch for Jamie and the emotional impact of returning to a place that defines so much of who he is. “Jamie has always wanted to return. Although his home is now in America, returning to Lallybroch allows him to reconnect with his family and close important chapters. However, things didn’t go as he expected, as there were many relationships he needed to resolve before he could move forward.”

Both actors agree that filming at Lallybroch is a gift for both them and viewers. According to Heughan, the scenes in Scotland capture the essence of Jamie’s character while also allowing fans to reconnect with the roots of the story.

Beyond the Wedding: The Importance of Marriage

At another point in the interview, a more personal topic was raised: the importance of marriage versus the spectacle of a wedding. This led Caitriona Balfe to reflect on the social pressure around modern weddings and how Claire, with her history of weddings and complex relationships, would have advised a young woman about prioritizing marriage over the event.

“Modern weddings have gotten out of hand. “It shouldn’t cost as much as a house to have a wedding,” Balfe said, with a mix of humor and sincerity. The conversation quickly turned playful when Heughan mentioned Roger and Brianna’s wedding on the show, pointing out that even that celebration reflected the emotional focus over the material. Balfe added that, in her experience, someone gave her a valuable piece of advice that resonated both in her life and in her portrayal of Claire: “Don’t make your wedding about your past, make it about your future. I thought that was a beautiful message.”

The dynamic between the actors was evident when Heughan humorously interrupted to point out how “Outlander” that phrase sounded, generating a moment of laughter between the two. However, Balfe returned to seriousness to conclude that, for her, a wedding should be a celebration of the beginning of a new stage: “Marriage is what matters. The party is not everything, but what you build after.”

Outlander‘s Legacy According to Sam Heughan and Caitriona Balfe

After this relaxed moment, nostalgia took over, and, after more than a decade of playing Jamie and Claire Fraser in Outlander, Sam Heughan and Caitriona Balfe face the challenge of saying goodbye to two characters who have become an extension of themselves. Playing two such iconic characters for more than a decade not only requires dedication but also a deep emotional connection. 

Caitriona Balfe acknowledged that Claire has influenced who she is today: “When I think about who I was at the beginning of this series and who I am now, part of that change has to do with Claire, but also with leading this project alongside Sam and assuming everything that implies. Claire has given me a lot of confidence and has even inspired me to use my voice. Some might say perhaps too much, but who would say that?” she said with a laugh. 

Sam Heughan shared similar sentiments, explaining that the line between him and Jamie has blurred over the years: “It’s hard to completely separate ourselves from the characters, and we’re in the process of doing that now, which sounds like a bit of a…”

Balfe chimed in humorously: “existential crisis?”

“Yeah,” Heughan replied with a laugh, “because you realize you’re saying goodbye to someone you’ve lived with for so long. I think it’s going to take me years to really understand everything Jamie has taught me, but I’ve certainly gained confidence, and experience and grown with him. Plus, he’s given me an incredible relationship, one I never thought I’d have.”

The Evolution of Jamie & Claire in Outlander Season 7 Part 2

From their first meeting to the most recent events in Outlander Season 7 Part 2, Jamie and Claire’s relationship has gone through countless trials and transformations. Including brushes with death, as happened in Outlander Season 7 Episode 15. 

Balfe explained how this journey has shaped the couple, as “they’ve been through so many trials and tribulations, and they’ve learned a lot about each other. Over time, those harsher personality traits have softened a bit, and their understanding of each other has grown. However, when they’re separated, as happens in season 7B, we see that they’re both more capable of moving on without each other, but we know that nothing good really happens when they’re apart. When they finally meet again, there’s a lot of friction because, sometimes, we act from a place of old wounds.”

Heughan also reflected on how the years have changed the couple’s dynamic: “In the early seasons, Jamie and Claire were very intense, with arguments that felt like ‘will they work it out or not? ’ Now they’ve moved past that. They can still argue, but it doesn’t put their relationship at risk anymore. They’ve reached a point where their bond is deeper and more mature. When they’re finally apart and Jamie comes back, that’s a really dramatic moment for them to work through. Until then, we see how much their relationship has grown and matured.”

With eleven years of history on Outlander, Sam Heughan and Caitriona Balfe have not only brought Jamie and Claire to life but have evolved alongside them. The series has not only been an epic journey for the characters but also for the actors, who carry with them the lessons and experiences that this adventure has left them with. As Balfe noted, “It’s definitely been the role of a lifetime,” and both she and Heughan acknowledge that it will take years to fully understand the impact of this experience, not only on their careers but also on who they are.

Jamie & Claire’s Most Complicated Moment

When discussing the most shocking recent moments from Outlander Season 7 Part 2, Balfe and Heughan reflected on what they thought of the particularly intense moment between Claire and Jamie in Outlander Season 7 Episode 12. Balfe admitted, “When I read the first version of the script, I was like, ��We can’t do this..’ I felt very defensive of Claire and we worked closely with the writers to find the best way to tell this beautiful but complicated story based on the books. It’s a difficult moment to digest.”

Heughan, for his part, highlighted how surprising Jamie’s reaction was to him: “I didn’t expect him to be so violent. I thought he would be more understanding, but at the end of the day, he’s a flawed human being. He has pride and darkness within him, and that makes him interesting.”

The Past in Outlander Season 7 Part 2

One of the most distinct moments in Outlander Season 7 Part 2 compared to previous seasons involves Roger MacKenzie, who, instead of arriving at the period he expected, ends up interacting with someone unexpected: Jamie Fraser’s father. 

Sam Heughan explained how this unexpected connection adds a new layer to the story, as “it’s a cool moment, the way they’ve done it. Roger knocks on the door at Lallybroch expecting Jamie to open it, but he finds his father instead. It’s a disconcerting situation for him. He has to think fast and adapt. What’s interesting is why he was sent to that period, what the consequences were, and where everyone was at that time. I think Jamie is in France at that point.”

Caitriona Balfe highlighted how this plot twist amplifies the use of time travel in this season because “normally, time travel is a smaller part of the narrative, but this time it has a much more prominent role. This leads to fascinating questions about what changes someone can make by traveling back in time and what the ripple effects of those actions are.”

Exploring Characters Beyond the Books

Throughout seven seasons of Outlander, the writers have taken certain liberties with the source material, something Sam and Caitriona acknowledge as an inevitable challenge when adapting such a rich and sprawling saga. “There have been moments or elements that we’ve left out,” Heughan admitted. “Sometimes I wish we’d done more or gone a little further from the books, but adapting such a dense series of novels into hour-long episodes is almost impossible. We probably could have done 20 seasons.”

Balfe added that despite the limitations, the final seasons have tried to stay true to the spirit of the books: “I think especially in these last few seasons, there’s been an attempt to follow the books closely, but there’s always been a need to tell our own story. And that’s the exciting thing about television, finding the balance between faithfulness to the source material and narrative that works on screen.”

Heughan also reflected on the future of the Outlander universe, referring to the spin-off Outlander: Blood of My Blood, which will explore the Frasers’ story without the direct backing of the books: “It will be interesting to see how they handle that new show, as they don’t have any books to follow. It’s exciting to think about the possibilities.”

Claire’s Double Responsibilities

Likewise, Sam Heughan and Caitriona Balfe shared their thoughts on the dilemmas their characters face. As a time traveler with advanced medical knowledge, Claire has been a crucial figure in almost every season. But is it fair for others to expect her to be some kind of universal savior?

Caitriona Balfe reflected on this constant pressure: “I think Claire feels like she should be able to do more. It’s frustrating for her not to have the tools, the medications, or even enough knowledge to solve all the problems she faces. Although she comes equipped with impressive skills, even doctors today rely on books and the internet. They don’t have an encyclopedic memory of everything. And Claire is no different.”

Sam Heughan humorously added: “I don’t think she’s done enough. And neither does my daughter! They could have done so much more.”

Claire’s relationship with history is also a constant source of conflict. Balfe commented on the gaps in her historical knowledge: “I think what’s fun about the character is that she has a general idea of ​​historical events, but she doesn’t always know the details. There are moments where you think, ‘Claire if only you’d paid a little more attention in class…’”

Despite these limitations, Heughan highlighted Claire’s impressive handling of her situation: “Her knowledge of history, for a non-historian, is pretty impressive.”

The Inevitable Call of War in Outlander Season 7 Part 2

Throughout Outlander, Jamie and Claire have tried to avoid getting caught up in the historical events that shape the world around them. However, as Heughan noted, it seems that fate always drags them back into the middle of the conflict, as we see in the latest episode. “They’ve tried to change history, to avoid it, but it always finds them. This season is no exception. The War of Independence is about to break out, and though they try to stay out of it, they are inevitably drawn into the heart of events. It’s quite dramatic,” Heughan explains. 

The tension between Jamie and Claire’s personal decisions and the weight of historical events is one of the pillars that continues to drive the narrative of Outlander. Balfe added: “It’s fascinating to see how their personal relationships and historical conflicts run in parallel, creating a balance between intimate drama and the magnitude of the events they face.”

And she’s absolutely right because, after all, in addition to their love story, Claire’s constant struggle to help those around her, while carrying the expectations as a time traveler, along with Jamie’s resilience amid historical turbulence, encapsulates the spirit of Outlander. What happened in the last episode is just a taste of it, but the best thing is that there is still more to come because, definitely, that wasn’t the end.

[mint-yooxgi]

My Desire - Slight Yandere!Nogitsune!Wooyoung X Tall!Chubby!Reader

Slight Yandere AU, Idol AU, Fated Lovers AU & Nogitsune AU - First Person POV

Genre: Mature, Smutty Themes, Fluff, Wooyo being a simp

Pairing: Wooyoung X Tall!Chubby!Reader (Implied OT8 X Reader)

Rating: 18+ MDNI

Words: 1,975

Warnings: Wooyoung has a dirty mouth and is very needy, Inexperienced!OC, tooth rotting fluff, lots of pet names (Beautiful, Angel, Goddess). This is a Yandere story, it will contain themes such as stalking, violence, obsession, possessive natures, and just general overall creepiness and swearing. You have been warned.

A/n: This is one of the most recent scenes I wrote in a purely self-indulgent fic for myself. It's been really therapeutic to write, and I really liked the direction this scene was going in, so I thought I'd share the little tidbit with all of you. I know it's not much, but right now, I'm focussing on writing for myself just to get back into the swing of things. This is my comfort, but I hope others can enjoy it, too. As always, feedback is greatly appreciated! I hope you enjoy!

Hours later, I feel consciousness returning to me once more. The sunlight streaming in from the windows warms my skin, and I nuzzle closer into Wooyoung. A soft smile tugs at my lips, already feeling his thumb brushing tenderly against the skin of my lower back.

“Good morning, Beautiful,” His voice rumbles out, still heavy with sleep.

I hum, stretching lightly beneath the covers before blinking my eyes open to look up at him. “Morning, Wooyo.”

His free hand slides up my body, moving to cup my cheek. A soft kiss is placed atop my forehead before he’s pulling me upwards, pressing his lips to my own eagerly.

I cannot help the smile that tugs at my features as I giggle, attempting to pull myself away from him.

“Wooyoung,” I mumble against his lips. “I need to brush my teeth.”

A loud whine escapes him, his arms wrapping fully around my waist. In an instant, he rolls us over, settling himself between my legs as his tongue flicks teasingly at my lips.

“Less talky. More kissey,” He mutters, holding me even closer.

My hands slide up his bare sides, feeling him shiver beneath my touch. It makes me smile, wrapping my arms around him as I part my lips.

Eagerly, he slips his tongue into my mouth. His one hand slips beneath his shirt that I’m currently wearing, splaying his fingers over my side. A soft moan escapes him as he feels my bare skin, parting from my lips to begin placing soft kisses along my jaw and down my neck.

“You look absolutely stunning in the morning light, My Goddess,” He breathes out, nuzzling his face against my neck affectionately. “I could never tire of this.”

Wooyoung pulls away to gaze deeply into my eyes, his own shining in admiration. Gently, his thumb resumes tracing over my skin as he smiles down at me so lovingly.

“One of these days, I’d love to wake you up by making love to you softly.” His eyes flick lightly between my own, his free hand coming back up to cup my cheek. “Every hour of every day, I wish to show you my love. Make you feel it with every movement I make against you.” He leans in, brushing my nose with his own as he sighs blissfully. “Show you how sincere I am about you, and lavish you in everything I have to offer.”

My breathing deepens slightly, his words going straight to my core. I cannot help the way warmth blooms inside of my chest, gazing up at him softly as I trace my hand over his spine.

“I would like that very much,” I whisper, swallowing lightly.

“Just you wait, Angel,” A brilliant smile stretches across his features, his eyes crinkling at the sides. “I plan to give you the world, and so much more.”

My heart flutters, a gentle smile tugging at my lips. “One day, I hope to be able to do the same.”

Wooyoung brushes some hair off of my forehead, his expression turning much softer. “You already have.”

A wave of emotion floods through me, and I immediately wrap my arms fully around him. I pull him into me, hiding my face in the side of his neck as I hug him tightly. I even go so far as to wrap my legs around him, my heart beating frantically inside of my chest.

“Thank you, Wooyoung,” My words come out muffled against his skin. “This means more to me than you’ll ever know. You mean more to me than you’ll ever know. I appreciate all that you do, and all that you’ve done. I know it’s only been one night, but this all just feels so natural to me. I’ve never felt this comfortable around anyone before, and that’s all thanks to you.”

I feel him wrap his arms around me, holding onto me just as tightly as I hold onto him. His face is buried in the side of my neck, placing a tender kiss atop my pulse before squeezing me affectionately.

“I’m happy to know I make you comfortable.” He hums, keeping his voice low. “All I’ve ever wanted was somebody to love unconditionally. To be able to make them happy, and provide for them. To see them look at me in the same ways I look at them, sharing our lives together and being with one another through everything.” He swallows, pulling away to stare deeply into my eyes. “I’m glad it’s you.”

I smile up at him, bringing a hand up to cradle the side of his face gently. “I couldn’t have asked for anyone better.”

Wooyoung’s eyes pulse with golden veins, his lips tugging upwards before he’s leaning in to place them upon my own. 

The kiss is tender and slow, Wooyoung pouring everything he is into it as he holds me close. The passion and care I can feel exuding from him makes my head spin, my heart thumping wildly in my chest.

Again, his hands slip beneath the shirt I wear, thumbs tracing over my sides as he deepens the kiss.

A soft whine leaves my throat, his hips grinding lightly into my own. I can feel him getting hard again, his cock twitching against my core. It makes my heart flutter, warmth coursing through my veins.

“You make it hard to want to leave this bed…” I mumble, moaning softly as he nips at the side of my neck.

“Funny,” He hums, glancing up at me through his lashes. “I was just about to say the same thing.”

Slowly, he rolls his hips into my own once more.

“We should-“ I choke on a gasp, my lashes fluttering in bliss. “We should probably get ready for the day…”

“Mmmh…” His hands slowly push my shirt further upwards, nosing his way down my body and beneath the covers. “Five more minutes…”

The material of his shirt bunches around my waist as he begins placing wet, open mouthed kisses along my stomach. His fingers trace over my sides, low groans escaping him as his fangs come out to tease at my flesh. With each love nip he gives me, he purposely laves his tongue over the marks, his breathing deepening.

“What do you say, Angel?” Turquoise eyes with those captivatingly vibrant golden veins flick upwards to meet my own. “Am I allowed to have my breakfast in bed?”

A pleasant shiver caresses my spine. His words go straight to my core, feeling myself clenching around nothing. I can already feel my clit practically pulsing, my chest rising and falling dramatically at the mere idea of what he’s offering.

Patiently, he waits between my legs. Even though his eyes are dark and hungry, there is no denying the tenderness that still shines through. His touch remains soft, his hands lightly caressing over my sides as a gentle expression pulls at his features.

My lips part, nodding my head in confirmation. “Okay.”

A pleased smile stretches across his lips as he leans in to place a lingering kiss against my stomach. Soft hums escape him as he nuzzles against me, tilting his head upwards so he can meet my gaze once more.

“Remember, Beautiful, one word of discomfort from you and I will stop.” Wooyoung keeps his voice steady, and full of care, staring at me so tenderly. “I never want to push you too far, or make you uncomfortable.”

“I remember, Wooyo,” I smile softly down at him, my heart warming at his thoughtfulness. “I’ll let you know if it gets too much. I promise.”

He grins, his eyes crinkling in the corners as he nods once. “Good Girl.”

My breath hitches, involuntarily clenching from his words. I can feel my cheeks heating in response, noticing how Wooyoung quirks a brow up at me.

“Oh?” A wolfish grin stretches across his features. Slowly, he trails his hands down my sides, sitting up on his knees as he slips his fingers beneath the waistline of my sweats. “Does My Angel like it when I call her that?”

My cheeks are on fire, and I end up averting my gaze to the side shyly. “A little…”

“It’s okay, Angel,” He coos, teasingly sliding his hands back up my sides. “There’s no reason to be shy about your desires with me. I want to know each and every one of them so that I can fulfill them all.”

A few of his tails emerge from beneath the covers, pushing them back so that the comforter falls to the ground. The soft blackness of his fur contrasts the morning sun, shining beneath the light as they flick through the air happily behind him.

“Will you let me?” His gaze flicks up to my own, his fingers back to toying with the waistline of my sweats. “Will My Beautiful Angel let me touch her? Will she let me trace my tongue over every inch of her delicious pussy and make her drip down my chin?”

“Wooyoung-“ I gasp out his name, clenching hard enough to feel myself beginning to leak down my thighs. My hands grip onto his arms tightly, nails digging into his skin as I begin to squirm beneath him.

“Do you think I could make her squirt? How long do you think it would take me to do that?” He hums, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. His gaze is fixated on the apex of my thighs, slowly beginning to tug my sweatpants off of my body. “How loud do you think I could make her scream my name using just my tongue alone? Would she sit on my face until I made her legs give out?”

“Fuck-“ My voice catches in my throat, my head spinning from his words alone. My breath is beginning to come in small pants, my whole body shaking in need.

“How sensitive could I make her?” Agonizingly slow, he pulls my sweatpants down my thighs. He tugs them upwards, lifting my legs in the air and holding them steady as he finally slides the material completely off of me. Quickly, his one arm wraps around my legs, resting them over his one shoulder. Turning his head, he places a kiss against the side of my knee. “Would she let me spend the entire day between her legs, worshipping her until the sun finally sets, the moon and all of the stars filling the night sky?”

“Wooyoung, please-“ My hips lift slightly, eyes pleading as I meet his own. My lips are parted, pleasure coursing through my veins with every word he speaks. I don’t think I’ve ever felt this desperate in my life, feeling as if I’m about to spontaneously combust if he doesn’t put those words into actions sooner, rather than later.

“Lay back and relax, Beautiful,” He hums, gripping my legs beneath each knee and slowly beginning to part them. 

Golden veins pulse within a sea of blue, a low groan escaping him as he sees just how wet he’s already made me. His tongue darts out to wet his lips, pushing my thighs apart gently as he begins to lower himself towards my cunt. Fluffy black tails dance in the air above his head as he leans in to nudge his nose lightly along my glistening slit.

A shudder wracks his entire body as he takes a deep breath, breathing me in fully. His eyes flutter shut, a loud moan escaping him as his grip on my thighs tighten.

“I want you to watch me,” He breathes out, eyes flashing open and locking with my own. There’s a darkness swirling within. A primal desire that shines right beneath the surface, desperation and lust all mixing together in a pool of love. “I want you to do nothing but enjoy yourself as you watch me enjoying you.”

[xoxochb]

You're one of my favorite writers on this app. All your posts bring joy to my day. You know what also brings me joy? Snow ❄️, and it finally for the first time in forever snowed in Georgia today. So I was wondering if you could make a Percy Jackson or a Luke Castellan post about them having fun in the snow with us. Of course u don't have to if you don't want to.

Lots of love. 😘

it’s snowing rn over here in new england too!

——— ౨ৎ ⊹ ࣪ ˖

“hold me.”

“holding you,” percy confirms. his hands place themselves on your elbows, your own resting on his biceps to steady yourself.

with this, you lean your head back and stick your tongue out, trying to catch falling snowflakes into your mouth. you wait until you feel cold drops falling onto your teeth to return to normal stance. your eyes go dizzy for a second, you’re thankful for percy’s hands holding onto you.

you squeeze your eyes before opening them back up. percy watches you attentively. “thanks.”

“anything for you, sweet girl.” he pecks your cold forehead, reluctantly releasing you from his hold.

“I want to sled now.” you remove your hands similarly and walk away to find your sled.

it’s blue, per percy’s request, you find it easily in the snow. your boyfriend comes up behind you and takes it from your hands, using his opposite to take one of your own as he guides you up the hill.

you stop midway to take a break. percy notices your fatigue and sits beside you in the snow, the sled sliding and falling down as he does so. you frown in realization that you’ll be climbing all the way back up.

you sigh and lay back, letting the snow take you in. again, percy follows your actions. the snow falls into your eyes gingerly, you close them when the begin to hurt from this.

percy watches intently as you dissolve into the snow. your hair is covered in it, your cheeks and nose rosy from the cold air nipping, and your— or technically, one of his— jackets too big surrounding our frame, and your parted lips, inhaling and exhaling the winter aroma. he takes your glove, covered hand into his own.

“are you cold?”

you almost laugh. “percy— it’s twenty five degrees outside, I feel like a popsicle!”

“well you’ve got two scarves on, gloves, your boots, two pairs of fuzzy socks, a sweater with a long-sleeve shirt underneath, my jacket, and a hat.”

“well I’m still cold!”

“noted.” he places your hand to his chest. but you roll over onto your side to face him and your hand breaks free from his hold.

with your face now turned to his own, he has access to a better view. your nose, not rosy, but bright red.

“your nose is red, sweet girl.”

“yeah, and it hurts.” you frown. “I want to go back inside now.”

“as you wish, rudolph.”

“oh, fuck you. get away from me.” you push yourself up and shake your head to get the snow out of your hair. then you stand up, but from the shaking you feel dizzy and sit back down. “I’ll storm off once my vision goes back to normal.”

percy smiles and sits up. “you know how much I love watching you walk away, sweet girl.”

“fine then I’m staying sitting right here.”

either way, he would get what he wanted.

[becausebuckley]

michelle's buddie fic recs: week 2!

another week, another fic rec list, and another request to help us find this fic! please have a look and see if you recognise it <3

this is a mix of fics with all ratings, so some include NSFW content. please take a look at both the ratings and the fic tags before reading! some might also contain spoilers for season 8.

if you come across something you like in this list, remember to show some love to the author by leaving kudos and a comment!

a life for a life | icewhisper | 7.7k | T

The first time Ravi met Evan Buckley, he never got his name. He only knew him as the man who pulled him onto a firetruck during a tsunami before he jumped back into the water after his son. Five years later, in a collapsed building, it’s Buck who needs saving and Ravi gets a chance to return the favor. i love love love the idea of buck and ravi crossing paths during the tsunami, and this characterisation of ravi is brilliant!! oh how i miss the people's princess..

forever goodbye | withoutthetiger/@rewritetheending | 1.3k | GA

Everything has been blurry for a while, and Eddie begins to wonder whether he’ll ever see clearly again. It’s the tears, of course, ones he refuses to let fall, mostly because he thinks he deserves to carry the weight of them instead of giving himself any relief from the pain. He’d brought the tears with him to the front door when he’d mumbled one final goodbye to Ana, then blinked them away just long enough to watch Christopher set himself up with a puzzle at the coffee table. Now he’s back in the kitchen, barely able to focus on the mess around him even though it’s impossible to ignore. love is stored in (cleaning up the) kitchen <3 the pining is so good!!

he's thinkin' about me | serenelystrange/@serenelystrange | 4.6k | T

In which Buck wakes up with the ability/curse to hear everyone's thoughts around him. Which might be ok, if it weren't for Eddie suddenly calling him baby, but only when he doesn't speak. oh i LOVE a good mind reading fic and this hit the spot perfectly <3 petty bitch eddie my most beloved

i let my fingers do the walking | lizzybizzyzzz/@lizzybizzyzzz | 7.3k | E

Buck is good at jerking off. It’s a self-proclamation, obviously. There is no right or wrong way to get off. Buck just thinks, if there were to be a Masturbation Olympics one day, he would end up with the gold medal gleaming over his chest by the end of the tournament. this is hot and fluffy and funny and just the ultimate fic, really. so good!!

if you know it in one glimpse, it's legendary | playinginthunderstorms/@playinginthunderstorms | 1.8k | T

Now they’ve arrived at house number five, and Eddie finally snaps. “What is your problem?” He turns to Buck suddenly, interrupting Mariana mid-answer. She gapes at them, startled into silence, but neither of them are looking at her, so she takes a second to compose herself while watching Buck’s eyes go wide and his body twist towards Eddie. “What?” “You’re being difficult.” “No I’m not,” Buck argues immediately. outsider pov!! thinking about the poor poor real estate agent who has to deal with buckandeddie brings me joy and this fic is exactly why <3 such a good time! for me, that is. maybe not for mariana.

i'll meet you by the river, see how time it flows | fruitsdoesnotknow/@fruitsdontknow | 8.3k | T

Shoulders tense, Bobby sighs. “Alright, there’s no easy way to say this,” Bobby begins, and Buck immediately leans forward, face concerned as his hand shoots up. “No, Buck, I’m not dying or retiring,” Bobby reassures him, and Buck slowly lowers his hand. “We’ve been nominated by the Fire Chief to help support with a request from a documentary crew. All we know so far is they’re looking into how a regular fire station operates on a day-to-day basis, and they’ll be following us for a few weeks.” Bobby claps his hands together. “Questions?” Six hands all at once go up. “Let me rephrase, questions related to your duties as a firefighter?” Five hands go down. “Yes, Ravi?” “Does this mean we should get a station dog?” blanket rec for an author whose work i've been loving this week!! this was one of my favourites and an immediate bookmark. it made me laugh out loud several times and has the most delightful firefam dynamics <3 cannot recommend enough!

i've been starving myself, carving (skin until my bones are showing) | prettyboybuckley/@prettyboybuckley | 12.1k | M

Eddie is fine. He's absolutely, totally fine.  And if sometimes he doesn't eat, why would that be a problem? He's got a kid to feed and not enough money, and there is no way he's going to grovel to his parents so they'll help him. He doesn't need help, not theirs at least.  definitely heed the tags but this fic is brilliantly written and has such wonderful eddie characterisation <3

it comes and goes in waves | tabbytabbytabby/@tabbytabbytabby | 1.6k | T

Buck never had a problem with the dark. Then the tsunami happened, and somewhere along the way, the dark started to be something Buck feared. And with the dark, came the nightmares. the emotional hurt/comfort is so so good here!! angsty and gentle and soft and just <3

kept on swimming | EiraLloyd/@unlifeira | 12.1k | M

He just needs someone to know that he tried. He needs someone to acknowledge that—that he did everything he could, and—and he tried. He might’ve failed, but he tried. He tried, he tried, he tried, he tried— Eddie swallows and asks, “How many times?” Buck stares. He lived through it once; that’s normal. He lived through it twice; maybe a déjà-vu or a hallucination of some kind or even a premonition. But three times— It has to be a time loop. Surely. mind the tags but holy shit this is so so good. beautifully written, angsty but with a hopeful ending, i absolutely devoured it <3

lay your hands on me | vampirebuckley/@vampirebuckleyy | 2.7k | E

“There, perfectly relaxed, happy? Now will you drop it?” “Nope, I don’t believe you,” Buck says, slapping his hands on his knees and picking himself up off the couch. “C’mon, up,” Buck waves a hand at Eddie, reaching to grab his hand. Eddie lets his hand be tugged, but plants himself further in the couch. “What are you doing, Buck? I thought you wanted to watch this,” Eddie groans, looking up at Buck and the much too pleased look on his face. “I, am going to give you a massage,” Buck says through a grin, yanking Eddie off the couch despite his protests. so so good!! massage leading to sex is one of my favourite pipelines and i love how this depicts buck and eddie!!

new sensations | lamardeuse/@lamardeuse | 4.3k | E

“All I know is you're getting me worked up and you're going to leave me hanging – again,” Eddie growled, nipping at Buck's earlobe and soothing it with a tongue Buck had learned was extremely talented, and okay, he thought, maybe he could – no, no, he couldn't. hot and cute and so perfectly buddie <3 this was a reread and it gets better every time!

your body is my temple, let me lay at your altar | Kwills91/@kwills91 | 4.7k | E

Eddie is no stranger to feeling self-conscious. When he was a teenager, his body had grown at weird rates. Three months of having feet too big for his body had made him clumsy, people passing comments about clown shoes. Six months of his arms and legs being just a touch too long, staring at himself in the mirror feeling like a marionette puppet. That phase where his hair grew out instead of down and his nerdy younger sister had snorted and told him looked like a hobbit–it didn’t help that there had been some crossover between that and the big feet phase. It’s been so long, Eddie had forgotten what it felt like–the shame that comes with looking in the mirror and wishing a different reflection were staring back. He’s happy, is the thing. He’s happy, so he’s not supposed to be feeling like this. loved reading this so very much <3 body worship buddie hits so hard in the best way possible, and this is a perfect example of that!

[sitp-recs]

hi! do you happen to have any drarry recs where draco just gets harry? like even if he doesn't say anything, maybe reading his body language, his facial expressions or just simply knowing him so well? and harry being relieved he doesn't need to say much because draco just gets him? sorry if this seems confusing hope i articulated myself well enough, its not my first language...

Hi there! That’s a great ask - I’ve read this theme being explored in a few different ways so I went a bit wild here, I hope all of these work for you:

Begin As You Mean To Go On by @doubleappled (E, 3k)

The first time, it was an accident. The second time, Harry’s going to have to ask.

A Little Death Never Hurt Anyone by @tackytigerfic (E, 4k)

Harry's getting good at slipping through the Veil. He's determined to win the war, even if means he has to raise the dead to do it. Draco just wants a stiff drink and a good night's sleep.

Life goes not backward by @shealwaysreads (T, 9k)

Harry still isn’t used to gifts, but this one is different. A story of coming home, finding safe ground, and the wild courage of putting down roots.

Wield Me by @tackytigerfic (E, 10k)

Draco Malfoy, blacksmith, is renowned through the magical world for his skill and exquisite creations. He could quite easily spend the rest of his days making pretty trinkets for the fae court, and being handsomely rewarded for the privilege. But why take the easy route when instead he could get involved in a dangerous mission with Unspeakable Harry Potter (who also happens to be Draco's... well, he's something, isn't he?)

Unseen by astolat (M, 11k)

When he wasn’t wearing it, he got jumpy, always waiting for someone to come at him wanting something—and now they did it even more urgently, if they ever saw him, because most of the time, nobody did.

Trouble, My Old Friend by Tepre (E, 21k)

Harry goes rogue investigating an illegal potion and ends up at Draco Malfoy's dodgy lab.

Nice Things by aideomai (M, 22k)

The first thing that happened was Theodore Nott came back from France.

Like Lightning at Your Fingertips by potterwatch (T, 43k)

The problem with living with another insomniac is, eventually, they find out you’re one, too. When Harry and Draco return for their eighth year, they think they’ll see very little of each other. Then McGonagall assigns them to room together. And the castle starts breaking. And there’s that thing with Potter’s magic.

Meet Me at Midnight by @the-starryknight (T, 57k)

Harry was beginning to wonder if he’d ever make anything again when Malfoy stormed through the door of Harry’s furniture shop. Now Harry’s got an impossible Ministry commission to finish, and even less energy than ever to deal with his elusive muse. That is, until he stumbles upon the surreal and beautiful world of a mysterious fae creature…

Little Deaths and How to Avoid Them (or Draco Malfoy's Guide to Stop Dying and Start Living Instead) by nerakrose, dustmouth (T, 96k)

Malfoy is way too interested in coroner reports for somebody who's definitely not looking for ways to die, Harry wants to be friends with him, and Ginny wants to break up with Harry.

[lordofmelancholy]

Timebomb HC: Songbirds

Timebomb HC after hearing Reed sing on my spotify that Ekko and Jinx often sing to each other but their very weird about it. Instead of serenading each other to songs you would think couples would sing normally, they sing shit like this too each other.

Bonus points if their really fuckin great at it and love doing it in alleyways cause they know it spooks the shit out of people when it echo's off the walls. It was normally Jinx's idea to do that specifically, but Ekko likes the fun so its easy to convince him to join right on in

Nah cause like honestly, hearing these two sing/harmonize off of each other when their in "spooky mode" much be the most haunting thing to hear in Zaun. It's just the pair echoing off of each other on top some high structure STREETS away from one another

Like they just *hear* each other and even if it's in the beginning when they on opposing forces with each other due to Silco and shit, it's near muscle memory how easy it is to slip into song with one another. But then Jinx tries to sing it after the bridge fight scene hoping that "boy savior" survived because he can survive anything, its been like that since they were kids. She starts off her part of the song and waits for him to pick up his part and waits. . .and waits. . .and waits. . .

But she doesn't think anything is wrong, not in the beginning at least. The bridge fight was huge, big noise, maybe he went underground (so to speak). So she waits; a day becomes two, two becomes three, and soon three becomes a week and still nothing.

Fun fact about certain bird species. Those who mate for life will often always carry a song specific for their mate that they will repeat for the rest of their lives especially renewing breeding. Penguins use it to find their mates in colonies and certain song birds repeat it every season. When their mate dies, some will actually keep on singing hoping their mate will return, sorta like the Last Male Kauai 'Ö'Ö, whose melody he kept on singing for a female who would never come because of course, he was the last of his species.

Just like Jinx and Ekko were the last of the original group up right up until Vi came back. After the bridge fight, Vi leaves with Cait and Ekko seemingly disappears, and all Jinx just keeps doing is keep on singing for day's. She haunts the streets of Zaun but no matter how much or how long she sings, she get's no response. That poor little songbird simply seems to be singing for a mate who may never come back for she now may very well be the last. . .

But oh oh! Do not worry nor fret. For she will not forever be the last. For when at her lowest and at her most dire, that missing part of her song shall return. And though she may not sing the first time around, too heart broken and bleak, that missing part will always serenade her. For picture Ekko, if you will, taking Jinx back to the firelight hideout. The tree still stands strong. It's still a home, but also now it's the greatest perch for a proud man to sing his song. Only now the song sounds different. Doesn't sound as sad like it use to. Or bleak. Instead it sounds happy as if he has finally learned something that has changed it's meaning. So he sings it proudly too her from atop the tree branches, when he see's her all by her lonesome. Because he remembers how happy they both were even before when they sung together, even though it was at a point where they both simply sung to give meaning to the mess their lives had become. Instead now, he sings solely for her. And he loves when she turns and listens and for a moment, she might even give him a smile for the last songbird isn't alone anymore. .

[theivorybilledwoodpecker]

Modern times headcanon:

It's not uncommon for elves to travel between Valinor and what used to be Middle Earth, but Celebrimbor more or less lives here.

He stayed in Valinor for well over a million years, but eventually he realized that he was as healed as he could ever get there. Surrounded by people who view him in varying ways.

Several see him as a hero, which he doesn't believe he deserves.

Some look on him with pity, which he hates.

And others villify him for his role in the forging of the rings, which he has complicated feelings about.

He's never stopped feeling guilty, though he's come to understand that he was a victim, too. He thinks the sacrifices he made to thwart Sauron don't deserve particular praise since Celebrimbor played a role in Sauron gaining more power.

He loves his family and friends dearly, but he wants to be somewhere people don't look at him with anything in particular in their eyes. He wants to be able to be just another person on the street for awhile.

So Celebrimbor comes to what was Middle Earth. He's astounded by the changes, but he's able to adapt fairly quickly. With gems from Valinor, he is able to live a comfortable life.

He's generous with his wealth, but lives a reclusive life. He likes to work on new inventions, but he's hesitant to share them too widely, lest they, too, be used for evil.

And slowly, he begins to heal more than he could in Valinor. He still returns for visits, but his main home is former Middle Earth.

At some point, he begins traveling to all places he used to go. It's bittersweet how Eregion and Lindon are so long gone even archaeologists haven't found the ruins. When he gets to Mount Doom, which is now dormant and a place tourists visit, he senses a presence.

Sauron will never become corporeal again, but after millions of years, he can take the form of a ghost. Celebrimbor and he talk a lot while Celebrimbor is there. Not all of it is good. But by the time Celebrimbor leaves, he feels like he's closes a door on part of his life and can move forward.

[deliciousobservationbird]

[dismp] how do you love?

Easily and all too quickly…

Deli spins around in her chair at the mayor’s office listlessly. She can see her communicator out of the corner of her eye, notifications piling up and the list of messages she has yet to respond to becoming more and more mountainous. 

For someone who yearns as much as she does, you’d expect her to be better at responding to people. There’s even Team Sunset DMs from ages ago that she doesn’t quite have the heart to open; at least with the notification bubble there she can believe that they’re all back to normal and everything’s good. Because it is good, they’re fine. 

She kicks the desk again and spins with a sigh. She knows she should be glad that people are even seeing her board of plans for public infrastructure, but she didn’t quite expect it to be used to ask her stupid, stupid questions. Deli picks up her communicator and immediately places it back down. She’s fine, she just- She just doesn’t know why she’s even considering the question in the first place.

How does she love? Perfectly well, thank you very much.

She leans back and closes her eyes as if to try and block out the mocking glare of the question on the board. 

She’s always known she loves too quickly, too easily but Deli’s made her peace with that. She has, alright? So what if she falls in love at the slightest glance, almost without provocation? It’s fine, she knows when she needs to cut herself loose and run from it. She can feel when a relationship’s timer begins to run low on sand and she knows what she’s got to do to brace herself from the fallout. But that’s neither here nor there, because the way she loves is fine and she’s not had any problems with it.

There’s Sin, and Sin is easy to be with, easy to team with. Maybe Sin’s gaze seemed inscrutable and intense when she first met him, but now Deli thrives under it. The piercing look and soft words — delightful promises of swallowing Deli whole, keeping her safe and secure under Sin’s watchful eye, spiriting her away from the rest of the server — well, Deli likes their arrangement. She likes how easy it is to trust Sin, to follow her. Sin may despair at her inclination to free her horns from those stuffy helmets, her instincts to blindly go where others are gathering, but there’s acceptance there too. 

(Sin calls Deli his sacrificial lamb once with a dark promise in his eye. Deli shivers with emotions far more complex than delight.)

Deli loves Sin the way the sheep can love a shepard. Angels and lambs are both godly things, you know.

On the other side of the coin there’s Betty…

Their relationship hasn’t necessarily gone sour since the gameshow and the events that followed it but… Well, Deli just misses getting to hang out with Betty. 

She traces the woodgrain of her desk idly as she casts her mind back to simpler times of Betty showing her places around the server, helping her acclimatise to Team Sunset, sitting together in the base as she explained her conspiracy theory of the week and Betty adding in insights she’d never even think to include. 

On that day, deep down in the caves, as Deli lay down on the altar looking up (blindly, trustingly, lovingly) at Betty, as the words she chanted sounded further and further away, she couldn’t help think that she really wouldn’t mind dying like this before all the world went fuzzy. And when it came time to return back to her own body, to take control, Betty’s voice and calming presence was the golden thread she needed to guide her out of the labyrinth. 

When Betty whispered to her about the book, she didn’t really know what to expect. Betty was right It’s been a little while and intentions don’t really matter here but deep, deep down, Deli can’t help but feel like she’d forgive anything from Betty. Betty cared and guarded her as much as she could throughout all sorts of trials, and what kind of a sheep doesn’t love their guardian? 

Deli falls into love quickly, but doesn’t often meet forgiveness in the same way. She’s been burned before and whilst she vowed to harden her heart and be stronger, well at least Betty was honest when she explained why she wanted to leave Sunset. How could Deli begrudge her that? For Betty, Deli learns how to forgive a relationship and not just run away before the fallout.

The sun has already begun its descent when Deli turns to her right to look out of the windows again. She lets her eyes unfocus as her gaze wanders from the far-away lights at spawn to the netherportal peeking through the trees. 

Deli could remember another person that wormed their way into her heart, into her team, and into her nightmares but she won’t. She purposefully doesn’t think of that person. 

It doesn’t really matter how Deli loves, she hates it all the same. She hates the way she’s weak to teasing remarks, the way her cheeks blush at bold flirting, and the way she clings onto memories of times before. Times before betrayal, times before it all went to hell.

Cornflowers are still her favourite flower but she’s less fond of the colour now. Part of her wants to pick a new favourite flower, but that would require admitting that something was wrong, that she was affected by it. She’s fine. Something like that wouldn’t affect her at all. She is doing great, actually.

Deli looks at the empty secretary’s desk and sighs. She felt so stupid for being so trusting, for being so ready to love wholeheartedly, to dedicate herself to someone, that she ignored the twinge in her chest warning her that all was not as it seemed.

Her communicator buzzed again. She swore she was going to actually answer some of her messages before she slept, but the moon was already visible. She had a long night of replying ahead of her.

She scrolls up through her messages, wincing at Chips’ requests to have some actual help with administration and bookmarking Leoo’s intriguing promises about some armour stands for later, to see what the latest buzz was.

Deli sees the name and icon next to the message and instantly feels herself sit upright. Oh, this takes her back. It’s been a while since they last talked, but Deli had hoped that those nostalgia tinted words and reminiscences about old traps meant they’d be receptive to her requests. She reads their words and immediately goes to message Sin —questions about love be damned— she had a lot of work to do.

[scatmaan]

my favorite part of bg3 is that it allows olav to collect kids and be the dad he was meant to be

[hayanahed]

Emergency: Help Evacuate My Family From GAZA WAR

Dear Humanity,

I'm Haya from Gaza , from a family of 8 people: my parents, two sons, and four daughters (two of them suffer from allergies).

I've witnessed the evidence of the tragedy that has struck our lives in Gaza, where my family and I have survived amidst numerous previous wars. But today, we face the most dangerous and fierce battle in the current war. The urgent need intensifies for us, as we have nothing left and are unable to secure our basic needs such as food, water, and safe shelter.

Here is our story - On October 7th, our lives changed forever, my family and I evacuated from northern Gaza to southern Gaza, hoping to return soon, but it wasn't meant to be. Our home was surrounded, burned, and then completely destroyed, Our home, once a fortress of hope, now lay in ruins, a stark reminder of our shattered dreams.

The night before we left from the north to the south was terrifying. Shelling sounds were everywhere, making a loud noise that felt like it went through our souls. Every explosions shook the ground like earthquakes, sending shockwaves of fear through our trembling bodies. filling us with fear. The air smelled of destruction and blood, making it hard to breathe. When dawn came, we saw the devastation around us, realizing our home was now a symbol of loss and despair.

We ran into the streets and with each step we took into the unknown streets, we felt as if we were plunging deeper into the abyss of our shattered existence, leaving behind everything we own in our home: Clothes, important official documents, the car, and literally it's almost everything - the enormity of our loss weighed heavily upon us.

Our home it was where we found hope, safety, and made precious memories. Losing it felt like losing years of our lives, leaving us adrift amidst the wreckage of our shattered existence.

A brief video depicting the devastation that struck our home and our entire neighborhood in Gaza.

Desperate Plea: Escaping Gaza's Allergy Nightmare

I, Haya, suffer from severe allergy to penicillin-derived medications, and my sister, Amal, also suffers from severe allergies to medications from my family such as Paracetamol and Ibuprofen.

These allergies create a deep sense of fear and anxiety for us, as we live in a constant state of tension and fear of anything that may require a visit to the hospital. We fear being given inappropriate medications due to the unavailability of suitable treatments in Gaza because of war or lack of awareness and not informing the doctor of our allergies, which could lead to serious consequences threatening our lives.

MY Father Income

Our dreams are heading towards oblivion in the labyrinth of an uncertain future

My story, along with my siblings, represents a united team of four individuals, three of whom are skilled programmers and one graphic designer. We work as freelancers in the world of freelancing.

As for my younger sister, she is a student studying at the College of Architecture. She has always carried a big dream in her heart, a dream of being part of changing Gaza, of making it more beautiful and better. She looked forward to the day when she would receive her degree and start building this dream. But the beginning of the war changed everything. The destruction of infrastructure and universities cast shadows of despair over her dreams.

When I think of my brother in Belgium, I can't help but feel deep sadness. He has been suffering from unbearable anxiety and insomnia since the outbreak of the war. Sleep eludes him at night, and his physical and mental health collapses under the weight of these heavy burdens, negatively affecting his performance at work. Problems and challenges pile up in front of him without the slightest opportunity for rest.

We all feel psychological pressure and extreme anxiety. The war hasn't been limited to external attacks but has deeply infiltrated our daily lives. We search among the rubble for a little safety and the basic resources for survival. Every day comes with a new challenge that we must overcome.

As we sway amidst the rubble of shattered dreams, our souls wrestle and our hearts beat strongly challenging the ravages of war.

Our parents earnestly seek a way to rescue us from this hell, feeling the heavy responsibility for every moment we spend under the shadows of fear and destruction. They dream of a safe place where they can build for us a better future, filled with security and hope, for we deserve life in all its meanings of comfort and peace.

Perhaps this fundraising campaign represents a light in the midst of darkness, it is indeed the only hope we cling to firmly.

I appeal to the world as a whole to hear my cry and the mournful cry of my family in Gaza. We need the helping hand that reaches out to wipe our tears and build a bridge to safety.

Your donation is not just a donation; it's an opportunity to rebuild life and brighten a better tomorrow. Be part of our hopeful story, for we need your hand to start anew.

The purpose of the fundraising campaign

The goal of this fundraising campaign is to rescue my family - my parents, my siblings, and me - through the Rafah Crossing to Egypt, which currently requires $5000 per person. This campaign is our only chance to stay alive, and I humbly request your assistance at this critical time. I will provide you with a comprehensive breakdown of the expenses, committing to transparency and clarity.

All of our important links are here https://linktr.ee/hayanahed

Verified by :

⭐️ operation olive branch, number 26 on their spreadsheet. (On Master list)

⭐️ Project watermelon,line 249 on their spreadsheet. Or you could see it as number 212 here is the photo for more clear proof

Thank you for your kindness and support.

.جزاكم الله خيراً

yours sincerely;

Haya Alshawish.

[hind3en]

A photo from memories, captured in May 2023.

Everyone has a superhero. For any girl in the world, her superhero is her father.

He is our hero. He is a doctor. Before this ongoing genocide, he worked at Al-Shifa Hospital. He is a wonderful plastic surgeon, loves his work and is committed to it, to help people and relieve their pain.

When We were forced to be displaced to Al-Shifa Hospital at the beginning of the war, he was still committed to his work. He worked nonstop for 40 days, besides caring for his family, especially in these difficult times!

But unfortunately the occupation stormed and burned the hospital after We were forced to evacuate , raising white flags. We could not carry anything, just our souls. We fled to the south on foot. He carried his two children in his arms, and walked long distances for many kilometers during the afternoon among tanks and heavily armed soldiers, and even among decomposing corpses!

Finally, we reached the UNRWA school at Khan Yunis. He started working in Nasser Hospital, which the occupation also stormed and destroyed! Even when we were displaced, he was working.

All that happened did not stop him from performing his lofty job as a doctor. He has now returned to work in MOH hospitals to carry out operations of debridement and grafting of needy injured people, but he is alone, we are far from him.

He decided to protect us and made a decision to refuge in Egypt to be survived. While he stayed in Rafah before the beginning of the military operation there. Then he was forced to be displaced to Deir Al-Balah.

Every morning he goes to work at Nasser Hospital in Khan Yunis and returns to his tent in Deir Al- Balah in the evening all week.

Is this what we and he deserve?

We stay away from our hero and torn our family. While at the same time, he is putting himself in danger while saving innocent lives!

For your information, his profession is considered more dangerous than ever before, due to the occupation’s systematic policy of targeting hospitals and medical staff!

All the day, we are worried about him. May Allah save him. Moreover, there is no safe place.

We hope to reunite again, we want each other, we want our home and our dreams!

We need your help and support to meet our father again, reunite our family and rebuild our lives. Little matters! Your little means a lot to us.

Please, donate or reblog this with others.

Our story is here:

This was not our only tragic story in this genocide, every day was a struggle for survival!

Thanks!

🇵🇸🍉🇵🇸🍉🇵🇸🍉🇵🇸🍉

[theresattrpgforthat]

Theme: Comfy & Fun Solo Games

I love a chance to unite a number of indie games under a single title!

Fool, by M. Kirin.

Congratulations—YOU DIED! But don’t worry, you have been reincarnated in a fantasy world filled with adventure, magic, and shenanigans. Get ready to live your very own isekai one chapter at a time~ ✦

FooL (stylized as F∞L) is a solo table-top role-playing game played with a deck of Tarot cards. Your actions, quests, allies, foes, and more will all be decided by the cards you draw. Lady Luck may not be on your side, but there are ways for you to tilt fortune in your favor—and overcome the obstacles in your adventure.

Here’s a Tarot Card option for you! The suits on the Minor Arcana represent different kinds of actions your character will take; either fighting, talking, magic, or gathering & crafting. They’re also used to generate details of the wold, such as monsters, locations, and your character class!

Your character will go on a series of quests, each one determined by a card draw. Special quests are represented by the Major Arcana, and I think you could think of each Major Arcana card as the beginning of a new chapter in your character’s story.

If you want a game that’s designed for a sole protagonist and manages to employ the sense of wonder-generation that comes from pulling from a tarot deck, then you’ll be interested in FooL.

Fixing Your Faerie Curse, by somewhere with stories.

When humans attend fae events, there are always risks. Still, you felt fairly confident when you attended the Wisteria Ball. It promised to be a night of blissful wonder, and you would have your fae friend Iarlaithe by your side.

Unfortunately, nothing went to plan. While Iarlaithe went to sneak some magical treats for the two of you to share, you ended up in conversation with a trickster who cursed you. When Iarlaithe returned, you begged for their help removing the curse. Unfortunately, they found it incredibly funny. They laughed so much that you left the party in a fury, and now they are angry at you for spoiling the night. 

Since Iarlaithe is currently less than willing to help you out, you have several options to consider if you want to be free from this curse…

This game uses a d6 roll to determine your curses, and a deck of cards to represent the four pathways you can follow to relieve yourself of the curs. I have a feeling that the bulk of the game relies on drawing cards one at a time and using them as either prompts or resources. The game is at its core a journaling game, so I’m also assuming that the card draws will happen over a course of turns - possibly with a limitation on how many turns you have to free yourself, or perhaps some kind of tracker to mark your progress.

Safe Travels, by Siyokoy.

A lone ranger sits atop his trusted stead, head brought low by the truths he has seen. His mind stirs in turmoil. Can he return home to his father despite all he's been through? Will he accept him still despite what he has become?

Safe Travels is a game written in a way that is setting independent; allowing you to be loose with the shape your journey takes.

In this game, you need to come up with your own means of transport and your reasons for travelling;. You roll 2d6 to generate prompts, and every third prompt also asks you to roll 1d6 for a revelation. You use a coin flip to determine whether your traveller overcomes an obstacle, or whether they get closer to their goal; and at the end to determine whether your character meets their goal or fails. Each option feels like a combination of positive and negative elements, or perhaps simply the potential to be both.

If you want to focus on how the journey affects the traveller, or if you want a game that’s concise, you might like Safe Travels.

A Train Ride Home, by heyitshelen.

You travel back home by train. Exhausted, you stare out the window into the outside world. The ever-changing scenery swooshes by. As things move backwards, you recall past memories. As you gaze into the distance, you ponder the future. Everything feels small and human again.

A Train Ride Home is a solo role-playing game about reflecting on life, prompted by the fleeting and impermanent scenery around you as you take the train back home.

Designed to be played at home or on a train, A Train Ride Home has two different ways to play. One uses a card deck to generate scenery, thus prompting the game’s question. The other is to literally ride on the train, although I think if you are on a long bus ride you might get the same feeling! It’s what I could call an on-the-go kind of game.

As for the themes, the questions that each scene generates are meant to make you reflect, either on your characters life, or perhaps your own.

Colorful Characters, by TTRPGkids

You’ve woken on a cloud… and cannot remember who you are. A winding road stretches ahead through the dull space. As you step forward, the road blares to life… as do your memories.

Travel across the rainbow road to fill in your character's parts before sending them out on future quests! 

Similar to a board games, in Colorful Characters you move your marker across numbered spaces, using each space to fill in character details. The game is designed to be kid-friendly, so I’d assume it’s got simple rules that are easy to teach! I’m curious about the potential this game has to create characters for other games; I think you could use it to generate the basic themes of a character, and then worry about stats later.

Other Links…

Solo Character Depth

Yumeshipping

Solo Journalling Games

Solo “Sims” Games

Lightearted Solo Games

Short, Daily Solo Games

Light-Hearted, Character Focused Solo Games

You can also give me a tip by donating to my Ko-fi!

anybody have any solo ttrpg recs ? also if you're a game maker please promote your stuff here :)

stuff i like mechanics wise (can include some, doesn't have to be all):

game systems with dice, tarot cards, or other household objects or board games

journalling

LARP elements/some level of pretend play/immersion heavy

simple rules (nothing too complex please)

gamification

build-a-character

easy to play on-the-go

stuff i like themes-wise (feel free to suggest stuff outside of this too, or similar things . i like a lot of everything):

cozy

fantasy settings

slice of life

prose-heavy

romance (or adjacent, focused on some sort of relationship)

transformation (for the better)

recovery

games i've played and liked, for reference:

little celestial fieldwork guide by psychhound games

my price range is between 5$-20$ for most paid options, but free-to-play makes my life a lot easier, thank you :)

[eupheme]

— tooth and nail

alpha!logan x mutant!f!reader

rated e - 4k

tags: dub-con (logan goes into a rut), a/b/o-lite elements (logan-only - ruts/knots/mates), breeding kink, mutual pining, two jealous dummies, size kink, fighting as foreplay, return of The Claws (claw-play?), outercourse, biting, marking, come play, rough PiV sex 

a/n: pure pwp. reader has druidic-based mutant powers (wild shape, strong connection to nature/animals, influence over vines/foliage) and is from Earth-10005.

Logan knows this feeling. He thought he’d left this part of himself behind. Left on his Earth, carved out and buried with the rest. 

Should have told you no. Should have locked himself away like he always did. Instead, he’s stuck, unable to keep his mind from wandering while his sparring partner - sweat-dewed and squirming - is pinned beneath him. 

(Or - Logan’s rut begins at a most inopportune time)

Something wasn’t right.

It’s been settling under his skin for days now.  Tiny hooked claws, digging into flesh. A syrupy urge low in his guts, his mind not quite his own.

He thought he’d left this part of himself behind. Left on his Earth, carved out and buried with the rest. 

The world he lives in now is different. There’s humans, mutants, aliens. But none like him, answering to something innate that defined him in a way that didn’t matter anymore.

It’s been a while. Almost forgot how it felt, after years of tamping down this part of him. Should have recognized sooner what it was. This rippling, simmering irritation just beneath his skin, so much stronger than usual. 

Should have locked himself away, when he realized his rut was returning.

In his years in his own Earth, the urge had lessened. Dulled by alcohol and grief. Managed by himself, in the few months this part of his nature did visit him.

But he hadn’t been able to tell you no. Hadn’t been able to resist, not when you smiled so prettily at him, practically begging him. 

And the thought of you leaving him behind at the X-Mansion, while you went off without him - to spar with Hank, instead - made him want to rip McCoy’s arms off. 

Desire swirls around him now, as he trades blows with you. Your arms snaking around his shoulders as you shoulder a well-placed hit, bringing you both down the floor.

Logan feels like a pup again, watching your breathless laugh. The clench of your thighs around his waist. The heady throb low in his guts, the pressure of his cock as it strains against his suit. 

His hips lift, separating him from you. Trying to form an excuse, while his brain is rocketing into overdrive.

Fighting back the urge to close that gap again. To peel down those tight leggings that drive him mad, bury his mouth against your pussy and make you scream. Fuck you full of him, until he’s dripping out of you for days. 

The though makes him growl, as he tries to concentrate.

Tough to fake an illness, or injury. You’d see right through him.

Or even worse, worry.

So all he had to do was finish out this session. 

Shouldn’t be too hard. 

If you can just avoid touching him… he might just make it through. 

You know you shouldn’t let yourself get distracted like this while sparring with Logan, but you can’t seem to help it.

Not when you’ve been nursing this thing inside you for months now. Something planted from another earth, settling low in your chest. Infesting like the vines that sprout from you, taking over until you’re fully ensnared.

You’ve tried to ignore it. Didn’t want to ruin a good thing between you. 

Out of everyone in the X-Mansion, you got along with Logan the best. Used to a solitary lifestyle after being raised among the druids, before you knew the truth to what you were, the mutant lineage that flowed through you.

It had paired well with his temperament. His anger and grouchy quips slipped from you like raindrops on a leaf. Something about spending time with you softening him at the edges - just a little bit.

He was still the hard man he used to be. Grizzled, with that scowl of his and the flecks of grey at his temples.

And despite your efforts - forgetting and moving on hadn’t been successful. Not at all. 

Because it’s impossible to ignore when he’s close, like this. Pressing your back to the mat, your wrist slammed against the padded floor. A knife skittering away, because even after all this time - even with his insisting - you were still reluctant to use it.

It sends your pulse racing. He’s so fucking strong - and you think that maybe, even if you had been an equal pair, that you’d still throw these matches. 

Let him win, if it gets him like this. Sweaty and pressed up against you as you struggle beneath him. A thigh jammed between yours to prevent you from slamming your heel into his calf.

You’ll think about this later. 

You always do after your sparring sessions. You hand slipping between your thighs in the shower after. Bitten-back moans as you play out more in your mind - the plunge of your fingers inside your aching cunt until you’re shuddering with the pulsing pleasure, slumping back against the cold tile. 

The fantasies always comes back to him. 

You think that maybe Logan wants it too. Have felt his gaze on you when he thinks no one is looking, but your senses have always been keen. Animal attraction, perhaps. Pheromones. Something about his smell, his touch, beckons you - though you don’t understand what it means. 

And it’s only now that you realize he’s gone still above you. Eyes blown wide, a sharp breath of air inhaled through clenched teeth. A low growl, caught in his throat. 

Holding himself back. You can see it - the way his muscles string tight. How his eyes dip, flicking over your face. Down to the part of your lips. The sweat that dews your chest. 

Close enough that you can inhale him - the smell of leather and cigar smoke blending with more - something inside you giving them a name. 

Want. Need. 

It gives you courage. 

You bridge the gap, for a just a moment. A shallow lift of your hips. Encouraging, the movement pushing your tits against his heaving chest. 

“Bad fucking idea, sweetheart.” He growls.

It’s rough, low. Ground-out as if to himself, a wounded sound slipping from his throat. 

His response has a mark forming between your eyebrows. A soft murmuring of his name.

Logan’s face dips, eyes closing as he inhales. Then, without warning, his knuckles cradle against your throat. 

Wrist flexing as two of his claws spear forward on either side of your neck. Punching through the training mats and sinking deep into the concrete beneath.

Pinning you completely under him, your hips dropping as your free hand wraps around his forearm. A tug of fear ripples through you, but he doesn’t budge.

“Logan,” You repeat, gasping, “What are you doing? What’s wrong?

This isn’t like the times you’ve sparred before. He’s never drawn his claws. You don’t heal like he does - you both know it. Never using more than a loose fist, an open palm in your sessions. 

He’s breathing heavy. Holding himself over you, his other hand still wrapped firmly around your wrist. 

“I’m gonna let you go.” It comes out ragged, through clenched teeth.

“And then I need you to leave, and lock me in after.” Only now does he look at you - his dark eyes burning, “You understand?”

His voice is so rough that it makes your skin prickle. Heat licking down your spine, stoking the embers that have settled low in your belly. 

“I don’t.” It comes out hushed.

How can you? It’s like a flip has been switched, in those few moments. Did you truly misread everything? 

His eyes haven’t left your face. There a peek of his tongue against his lips, the words coming slowly, “Don’t wanna do something you’re gonna regret.”

And for a moment, time stands still. An ache in your chest that’s so different than the one between your thighs. Finger unfurling, reaching.

Slipping up his arm, touching his cheek. He flinches, eyes fluttering shut as he holds his breath. 

“What could I regret with you?”

If it were anyone else, the question would be stupid. You should be running from the man that has you pinned to the ground, claws drawn. Another twitch and you could be dead - the middle unsheathing to pierce clean through your soft throat.

“Whatever it is, let me help you.” Your voice is gentle - coaxing -  and for a second, he leans into the touch. Palm pressing against heated skin, and you gasp, “You’re burning up, Logan.”

“You can’t help me with this.” He rasps with his eyes closed, voice strained. 

Your head shakes, “Let me try.”

A long pause lingers. The room filled with the uneven intake of breath. Logan’s words coming slowly, as his eyes open - dropping down to your throat. And then away, like he can’t bear to even look at you, “Does the word rut mean anything to you?”

It feels like something stirs again inside you. The flutter of wings, not unlike the feeling when you tap into your power. Like threads slipping your fingertips, connecting you down to the earth below. 

“Animals have ruts. Deer, elk, creatures like that.” A beat, as you begin to understand. Heat flaring in your cheeks at the implication, “But, not… not humans.”

He grunts, shifting.

It takes everything not to let your chin tip down, to look. 

“They do where I come from.” 

Pieces start to fall in place. His increased irritability around you lately. Territorial. Aggressive. 

Blending in to what you know, in your connection to nature. Those animalistic instincts that linger in your blood long after you’ve shed your beast form. 

Desire. Mating. An urge to breed. 

Oh, fuck. 

You squirm and he makes a warning sound without thinking - a rough rumble from his chest. His weight shifting on top of you, still hovering.

“How do you handle it?” 

His eyes flicker up to yours, then away again. Jaw working, a breath before he answers, “Take care of it myself. Or, I’d find someone to work through it with me.”

Even as you’re scrambling to make sense of it, you understand his insinuation. It stuns you into silence. You cannot allow that. The thought sends your heart crashing into your guts. 

Your chin tips up, defiantly.

“Let me help you.” 

Those dark eyes narrow as they snap to your face. Your words softening, as your thumb sweeps across his skin, the scruff of his cheek.

“I want to help you.”

Logan laughs, the sound ragged. Showing the points of his canines with the shake of his head. 

“You don’t know what you’re asking.” His voice is smoky-low. Rough as it scrapes across your skin, leaving goosebumps, “You couldn’t take me.”

Your heart feels like it’s pounding in your throat. Heat licking down your spine, and surely he can feel it - the flutter beneath the press of his knuckles. 

“I can.” It comes out breathy. Insisting. 

His tongue brushes over his lips as they part. A tilt of his head as he lowers himself. His knee pressing against the meat of your thigh, nudging. Opening your legs up further. Spreading them wider. 

“I will ruin you.” 

It’s growled in your ear. Each word coming slowly, as he lets the hard curve of his cock grind against your core. His meaning unmistakable, his voice pitching down with a ragged groan. 

“I want you to ruin you. You understand?”

And, you do. It floods through you, sending your nerve endings alight. Imagining how he would handle you, take you. The space between your thighs throbs. 

His admission - the rasp of his words and the heavy nudge of him against you makes you do something very selfish. 

And very stupid. 

You’re just able to reach your thigh holster now, with this new angle. The quick fumble of your fingers to loosen the small dagger.

The metal side of his claw pressing into your skin as your head turns. Before he can move, a flick of your wrist sends it through the air.

Your aim is slightly off, but it does the job. Seating itself in the control box by the door, a sizzle as the wires are cut.

A metallic snick as the doors lock. The lights click off, plunging the room into darkness. The ground bathed only with the stripes of sun that stretch across the floor from the row of window along the wall.

Logan lets go of your wrist, but leaves you pinned. His fist curling in the strap of your tank, knuckles pressing against your throat as he yanks you forward.

“Why the fuck would you do that?” Logan snarls, “You want me to use you?”

His words make you whimper. A soft little whine that has his hips dropping further. An unconscious rut against your core, leg muscles flexing as you clench around nothing. 

You meet his second thrust, your body curving against his. Head tipping back as the seam of your leggings nudge against your clit.

“Fuck.” It almost sounds awed now, his words soft and slow, “You do, don’t you?”

Letting his full weight drop, as your hands grip onto his shoulders for purchase. You had thought you were pinned before, but he had still been using his knees, his elbows. Hovering, in an attempt to keep control.

Now, you can feel all of him, as his body maps against yours. Pulling a rough groan as his hips flex, grinding himself slowly against your core. 

“Logan, please.”

He growls. Fingers unfurling from your shirt. Ghosting down your side to fit against the curve of your hip. Biting into flesh with a bruising force, as his face buried in the crook of your neck. A hot exhale against your skin, as he pants - finding a rocking rhythm, as his body curls around yours. 

You can feel the way his muscles tense with each needy snap of his hips. The way each breath pitches into a near-silent whine, as he seeks friction. 

It’s not enough, as much as he wishes it was.

“I need-” Logan rasps, “Tell me to stop and I will.”

The hand on your hip snakes between you. Roughly tugging on the belt of his suit, until the clasp opens. All while murmuring assurances, half to himself.

“I’ll let you go. Work through it myself-”

That need he speaks of rolls off him in waves. Facial hair scraping against your cheek. The brush of his lips against your throat, just above the cool press of his claws.

“Don’t stop.” It’s easy to answer. Easy to lean into what he offers you, all those sweet promises wrapped in steel. 

The groan he makes is filthy, “Give me your hand.”

Your fingers unlatch from the vice-like hold on his suit. A broad hand wrapping around your wrist, as he tugs you where he needs you. The tips brushing heated skin, making you gasp. 

“Make a fist,” He rasps, “Fuck, that’s it.”

Lining himself up, pushing his bared cock into the circled grip of your fingers. Using you like a cheap imitation of what he craves, as his desire leaks from him. Slicking up your fingers, with each roll of his hips. 

He’s heavy in your hand. You can feel how your fingers stretch - flexing, opening, with each forward thrust. Barely able to circle around, fingers splitting when you reach his base. 

You can’t help but move with him. Hips rocking up, to match his messy rhythm. The knuckle of your thumb pressing against your seam, nudging at where you ache for him.

“I can smell you, sweetheart,” Logan moans, his nose dragging along the curve of your jaw. Lips parting so he can test his teeth against a spot under your ear, the pressure making you shiver, “Your pussy’s leaking, thinking about me.”

Your eyes flutter shut, as you whine. Squeezing his cock a little more tightly, wishing it was filling you instead just your fingers. 

“I’m right, aren’t I?” He husks, “You think you can take it?”

You want anything he’ll give you. And anything is better than the way he’s teasing you. Palm slick with his desire, your own soaking through the soft fabric of your leggings.

“I want it. Want your cock,” You breathe, “Want to fuck me, please-”

There’s a final jerk of his hips against you, his voice gruff as his thighs shift.

“Stay still then, sweetheart.”

There’s the sharp rasp of adamantium against stone as they withdraw from the floor. His knuckles easing carefully from your throat as he leans back. Eyes dropping down, considering.

Barely a heartbeat before there’s the kiss of metal against skin, as the edge of a claw hooks under your shirt. Your breath held as it slips up, between your breasts. 

A tug, and the fabric is shredding. Fibers splitting until the drag of the sharp tips, from belly to throat. Baring you, the air in the open room chilling your heated skin as you gasp.

Nipples already pebbled as his mouth descends. A needy moan loosening when he kisses at the curve of your tits, his tongue flattening across a tight peak. 

Your arms wrap around him, their duty forgotten. Distracting you as his claws shift down. Your breath catches, but then there’s the sound of them sheathing - slipping back under his skin. 

His hands finding the slice he made in the waistband, making short work of the rest himself. Ripping your leggings open - dragging your thighs over his as he leans back on his knees. 

And looking down, it’s only now that you can fully see him. The familiar, worn yellow suit that shows off how broad he is. Zipper yanked down at the crotch, his cock pulled through with his impatience.

Eyes widening, when you realize there’s more to him than you though. Hanging heavy between his thighs, pretty and flushed. A thickened bulge sitting where your fingers had split - what you had mistaken for his base. 

“Need to be inside you, sweetheart,” Logan’s hand already wrapping around his shaft, dragging the tip across your cunt, “Don’t make me waste a drop, alright?”

Fingers tugging the gusset of your panties to the side. Letting the tip slap against your clit. It glides against you, slipping against your combined arousal. Seeing how you flutter as you clench, your own need spiking.

“Logan,” You beg, “Stop teasing, please-”

He makes a rough sound. Almost a laugh, if it didn’t sound so pained. 

“Just listen to you. Begging like you’re in heat,” He grunts, “Don’t worry, I’ll give you what you need.”

The tip dips down, nudging at your entrance. Lining himself up, before his hips drive him forward. The sudden pressure chokes you - a bitten-back cry as your muscles string tight, thighs clamping down around his waist.

“Fuck, I’ve dreamed about this.” He growls. Spearing into you an inch at time with a long, fluid motion. Fingers biting into your thigh, holding you open as your own scrabble against the mat - searching for something to hold onto.

“Tugging down those leggings. Fucking you into the floor.”

You can barely contain the whine. Brow furrowed, as he splits you open. Your pussy making room for him until the swollen ring at his base cradles your entrance. 

Only able to inhale a short breath before he’s moving. Hands catching your legs, slipping to the joints of your knees where they press into his ribs.

Pushing your thighs back towards your chest, opening you up further, as his cock drags along your walls. He feels deeper, bigger - groaning at the way you clench so tightly around him.

Better than any of those daydreams, as he leans into you. Chasing that animalistic urge inside to bury himself fully in you, ensuring that you’ll take every drop.

Your fingers bite into his wrists. The breath pushed from you with each thrust, feeling like he’s deep in your belly, as that swell stretches at your opening.

“Thought about it too,” You admit with a gasp, as that heat inside you burns, “Wanted you, like this.”

“Yeah? I bet you did.” He grunts, as his thighs snap against your ass. Leaning over you now, eyes fixed on yours. Close enough that you can see the glaze to them, lost in his need for release. 

Before his eyes drag down. Seeing where you’re stretched around him. Another shallow nudge, urging himself deeper. His thumb pressing at your entrance, before slipping back to hook around the swell.

“Good girl like you’d take my knot too, wouldn’t you?”

His knot. Your head shakes. He barely fits at is. You can feel every ridge as he ruts into you, every thick vein, “I don’t think- Logan, that won’t fit-”

The thumb shifts up. Pleasure burning through as he rolls the pad across you clit. His brow pulled in concentration, but there’s a flesh of white teeth.

“Sure it will, baby.” It’s slick, how he touches you. His cock grinding again and again against a spot that steals your breath, “You were made to take it. We’ll make it fit.”

It makes you moan. Your fingers sliding into his hair tugging at him. He comes willingly, a soft sound as his mouth dips to press against yours. Turning hungry as your lips part. Rubbing at you as his tongue strokes against yours, deepening the kiss. 

The pleasure licks in your veins, a molten feeling building in your core. 

A rough murmur against your lips, “Tell me you want it. I’ll make you feel good, sweetheart.”

You parrot it back to him without thinking, hips chasing the press of his thumb. 

“I want it,” You keen, “Your k-knot.”

Willing to do just about anything he asks if he keeps touching you like this. If he keeps rutting against the spot that makes your arousal leak around his cock, each drive of his hips loud and messy in the quiet room. 

He groans, the hand at your thigh pinching, sure to leave bruises tomorrow. The fingers at your clit slipping up to splay across your abdomen, his palm hot again your skin. 

“Yeah?” Logan husks - pressing down, almost as if he can feel himself buried inside you, “Fuck, you’d look so good filled with my pups.”

His rhythm going sloppy, as a hand slips up to palm at your breasts, “These pretty tits nice and round. Wouldn’t be able to keep my hands off you, baby.”

Some of his words are new to you, but your body still reacts to his tone. The need, the longing. An intrinsic understanding of what he wants, even if it’s impossible with your implant. It still doesn’t stop your hand from slipping down to replace his.

Of pretending, with him. 

The circles practiced, leaving him to concentrate on his own end. Soft panting cries pulling from you as the pounding of his hips drags you closer. 

He’s close, as well. Those sharp thrusts growing shallow, messy. Letting go of your thighs, letting them wrap around his waist as he drives you into the padded mats. Burying his face in the crook of your neck, lips pressing against your jaw. Tongue dipping out to drag against a spot on your neck that makes you go slack in his arms. 

“Should mate you,” He rasps. Teeth pinching down, where his tongue just was, “Bite you right here. Make you mine.”

The words tip you over the edge. A ragged gasp as your pussy clamps down around him, blood thundering in your ears. Nails catching on the panels of his suit as you cling to him, moans ripped from your throat as you pulse around him in time with your thudding heartbeat.

There’s no sharp bite of teeth. Just a muffled groan against your skin as he grasps at your hips. The sharp feeling of pressure increasing, as something thick works its way inside you. You keen as it stretches you, swelling so he can’t withdraw. 

Twin ragged moans, as you’re joined together. 

He comes with you squirming on his knot, his lips pressed against your throat. Sweet nothings murmured - “squeezing me so fucking tight, baby”, “gonna need you to take every drop, atta girl” - his cock throbbing as he spills inside you, pumping you full.

Still grinding into you. It draws your own orgasm out, with the way he’s rubbing against your walls, nothing left untouched. Overstimulation flickering at the corner of your mind, but you’re locked in place as he breeds you. 

Understanding what he meant by using you - you feel it now. Fucked out and boneless and it sends another gush of sticky need between your thighs. 

The sharp, panting breath starts to ebb. The ghost of his teeth becomes the nuzzle of his face, that strung-tight pull of his muscles turning liquid as he relaxes into your embrace. 

“Why were you so worried?”

It comes out hushed, in the now-silent room. You’re sore - will be, tomorrow. Pleasure-drunk certainly, but not quite as ruined as he promised. 

Almost to your disappointment. 

“That wasn’t too much.”

Logan laughs, the sound dripping with condescension. A flex of his hips, still knotted inside you. Cum leaking from your swollen pussy, smearing against your inner thighs.

“Oh, sweetheart.” He coos, “Ruts can last for days.”

His fingers drop, dragging through his spend. Finding your clit again, rubbing slick circles against the tight little bud. 

Intent on doing this one himself. 

“We’re only just getting started.”

[moodboard] // I had two ideas for his claws after the movie - this was the second one! This is my first time writing something like this, so keeping it a little light with the dynamics 💖 thanks for reading!

and speaking of - I have to link this amazing alpha!logan thot by the incredible @avocado-writing! please check it out! 💕

[slater-baby]

Money Shot

Simon "Ghost" Riley x f!Reader

Tags - Squirting, voyeurism, toys, mentions of breeding

-

“Simon?” Price calls from the head of the boardroom, arms crossed in deep contemplation, “What do you think? Is it feasible?”

“Feasible? Sure,” He glances at the tactical plan with a minute shake of his head, “Advisable? Not so much. I mean, that structure is...what? Three, four meters? Unless the drop point is on the fuckin' roof, there’s no way the cunts won’t see us coming.”

“Hm,” Price grunts, running a hand through his beard. Around the boardroom, various members of the congregation shift in their seats.

“What about…” Gaz begins, and then, Simon hears it.

BZZ.

“Goddamnit,” he whispers beneath his breath, leaning forward in his chair to pull his phone out of his pocket. Just recently, he’d installed a set of cameras about the house and porch.

‘Just for extra security, love,’ he’d told you. Since you moved in with him—and what with your name now written into his will—his time away on deployment and in the office had become…a liability, to say the least. 

On a good day, Simon didn’t like to leave you by yourself. But for extended periods of time? When he couldn’t so much as pick up the phone to send you a text?

His fried nerves had all but demanded it. The cameras were his only failsafe. His only means of connecting with you, even when you were oblivious to it. In his mind, when he was deployed to some desolate war zone, slumming it in drafty safehouses, sustaining himself on MREs and cigarettes, then just seeing you quiet and content in your usual place on the sofa, flipping through a book or doing a face mask, would be enough to tide him over. 

Though, he’d failed to consider just how goddamn annoying the notifications would soon become.

Hurriedly, he glances at his phone under the table, halfheartedly listening to the meeting.

‘MASTER BEDROOM - MOVEMENT DETECTED,’ his phone so helpfully supplies him.

He scowls.

Movement detected. Yeah, right. Just like the other twenty times it’d told him that in the past hour alone. He digs his index finger into the ringer switch, but just at that moment, another notification comes.

And with it, another…And another…And another….

‘MOVEMENT DETECTED’

‘MOVEMENT DETECTED’

‘MOVEMENT DETECTED,’ it says to him yet again, as if he were an idiot too dull to even read.

“MOVEMENT DETECTED!! INTRUDER ALERT!!!” It seems to screech, “GRAB YOUR GUN, SOLDIER, THE DAY ISN’T OVER YET!!’

Annoyance climbing by the minute, Simon hurriedly flicks through his apps, all too eager to return to the meeting at hand. Within seconds, he’s staring at the grey display of your sparsely lit living room.

If anything, it’s a bit messy, but hardly remarkable. The TV is on, some soapy romance show still rolling in the background. There’s a pillow on the floor. The cat is lounging in a flickering patch of dying sunlight. Nothing out of the ordinary. 

He switches to the kitchen. Nothing but the hum of the old fridge greets him. And in the dining room, it’s a similar story. So, attention wavering with every word that Kyle speaks, he angrily flicks through the porch cameras and straight to the master bedroom. 

And that’s when he hears it.

The smallest, weakest little voice…

“God, Simon…”

At the sound—barely audible over the noise of Price’s lecture—his heart rate spikes.

Physically, he can feel his blood rushing, nerves shredding themselves to pieces as he hurriedly presses the rotate button on screen. Slowly—almost as if to taunt him—the janky camera begins to turn. And with every second longer he has to wait, darker possibilities begin to flood his synapses.

You’d fainted.

You’d fallen.

You’d broken a bone.

Or, perhaps the very worst, he’d find someone else standing over you.The exact reason he’d installed the cameras in the first place.

He waits with bated breath, practically unblinking, until he finds the source of the movement. The blankets atop the bed jostle, and he breathes a sigh of relief when he sees your familiar form swathed in pillows and fluff. Safe, warm, and most importantly, alone.

“Simon…” you say again—voice strained. Almost as if you were…crying?

Again, he glances at Price. The man is distracted, going on about the MTC once more. Surreptitiously, Simon looks back down at his phone, confused.

Were you sick? Laid up in bed with a fever?

No, somehow that didn’t feel like the right description. Last month, when you’d caught the flu, you could hardly stand to sit still. Simon practically had to chain you to the bed just to force you to get some decent rest.

Then, what could it be?

Did you miss him, perhaps?

At the thought, his chest warms. In all his years of service, Simon never had someone to miss him. He had his friends, sure, but they were his home away from home, the family he’d never known he’d find. Off service, however, before he’d met you, home wasn’t warmth. It wasn’t happiness. It wasn’t dear to his heart. Hell, it was little more than a house, with a sofa and television. 

But when you came along….

You, with your shining eyes, witty jokes, and unending support…

He’d never known that the most precious gift a man could receive is someone to come home to at night and to miss him when he leaves in the morning.

Fondly, he looks at his phone screen, hardly listening to the meeting at hand.

Within your cradle of old blankets and sheets, you shift, a whimper escaping your mouth. It echoes in the grainy speakers of his phone, and he hardly even thinks to lower the volume…

That is, until you move again, and the blankets fall down.

One of your arms pushes the blankets down, and suddenly, Simon has an eyeful of your bare tits. Naked, shining with sweat, and nipples raw from being tweaked.

Instantly, his eyes go wide, and he jolts forward to hide his phone in the shadow of the conference table. 

Not crying. Definitely not crying, his brain rambles, watching as the curve of your breasts squish into the mattress as you twist beneath the sheets. The flimsy fabric, threadbare after so many long nights together, wraps around your legs like a vice. 

And that is exactly when he sees it.

Your back arches way from the mattress and your entire body thrums with electricity, hips moving fast and hard, every roll just as desperate and jagged as when you slide into his lap during movie nights, unbuckling his belt before he can even think to open his mouth.

“Fuck!” You nearly scream—and Simon literally flinches, hurriedly whipping his head around to look at the other men.

“Simon?” Price suddenly questions, “You alright? Was that your phone again?”

“Um,” he begins tactfully, clearing his throat, “Yeah—just m’girlfriend walkin’ in front o’ the camera again.”

“Oh,” Price nods, “She doing alright? Haven’t seen ‘er recently.”

“Yeah—she’s…” he huffs, blindly rapidly down at his phone where you writhe against the sheets, fingers thrusting between your thighs.

“She’s doing…great,” he manages, swallowing thickly when you reach a hand up to squeeze your bouncing tits.

“Well, give ‘er my regards next time you talk to to ‘er.”

“‘Course, sir.”

“Now, back to what I was saying about the perimeter…”

With that, Simon holds his breath for a few torturous minutes. However, when the other men continue on as if nothing had ever happened, he surreptitiously leans back in his chair…and looks down at the phone again.

His hearing fades to nothing but a distant buzz, pulse racing in his chest, like his heart might explode at any moment. And even though he’s muted the volume, he swears he can hear your moans ringing in his ears, vibrating in his very bones.

In the black and white video, you throw your head back against the pillows, hips jumping so hard the flimsy sheet falls down to your ankles. And soon enough, he can see every part of you. The softness of your heaving stomach, the sweat against your cheeks, the delicate shine of slick between your sweet folds…

Your entire body tenses, and undoubtedly you cry out again. He already knows what you’re saying, even if it’s all but silent in his hands.

His name.

You’re there, needy and alone, a wet spot between your legs on the sheets, shouting his name like there was any hope of him actually hearing it—as if there was any hope of him finding you,  filling you up, and giving you what you truly need. 

At that thought, pride wells up in his veins, hot and bubbling. And before he knows it, his blood is rushing south at an alarming rate.

“Please,” he can imagine you begging him, “Please….Please, Simon, just a little. Just the tip…”

You’d say it with heat in your cheeks and a pout on your lips, wrapping a shaky hand around his hip so that he couldn’t pull back, so that he couldn’t tease you any longer. You’d whine and whimper, tears gathering in your eyes, as you weakly pulled him forward, just enough to wrap one of those precious hands around his leaking cock.

You’d guide him forward like that—in a way he couldn’t deny—and you’d sit there, batting your eyelashes, sliding your wet cunt over the tip of his condom-covered dick, like that might tempt him just enough to take it off…to fuck you full and hard, until he was leaking out of your fluttering pussy and into your ruined panties.

He bites his lip.

You’d begged him before. On your knees, kissing the head of his cock. On your stomach, pushing your ass up against his hips. With your face buried in the pillows, nearly sobbing for it.

“Just once, Simon. Please—I promise. Just a little bit. Just the tip,” you said every time—as if those words made the act any better.

And, god, Simon wanted it. He wanted it so, so badly. To feel the warmth of your body, the heat of your bare skin against his own…to feel your pulse thumping between your legs as he fucked his cum right into the seat of your very womb.

So far, you hadn’t manage to take him raw just yet. If not because he had the patience of a Saint, then for the fact that your doctor kept rescheduling your birth control appointment.

Yet, looking at you now…

He breathes in low and deep, watching as your legs shake, toes curling.

The sheets fall off the bed.

And with another cry, you pull the dripping dildo from between your legs, curling your thighs together in absolute ecstasy.

Jaded, he looks at the damned toy. A cheap replica of his own cock. You’d given him a mould on Valentine’s Day—mostly as a joke…until next deployment came around, and you all but begged him to do it.

He still remembers how ridiculous it felt, looking down at your satisfied smile while you licked him clean afterwards, merely as a ‘thank you’ for all his hard work.

Beneath the shadow of your dangling calves, he can see the promise of your dripping cunt tucked between your sweet thighs. Desperate, wet, and wanting…

He scowls.

Pills, doctors, and implants be damned. If Simon had it his way, you’d be filled and sated, womb swollen with his seed, evidence of all the love he had yet to give you. It’s a tempting thought—one that nearly drags him into his mind once and for all.

However, a sudden movement on the camera catches his attention.

The toy is still in your hand. Strings of slick drip off of it and onto the flat of your thigh. With your other hand, you spread your abused folds, barely able to pull them back with how wet you’ve become. Impatiently, slide two of your trembling fingers into yourself, head tossing against the pillows.

“Please,” he swears he can hear it, “Please, please, please—”

You thrust into yourself ruthlessly, flecks of slick flying just at the movement. God, the sound of it must be nothing short of obscene. He can only imagine.

Your offhand tightens around the shaft of the dildo, and this time, when you tense up, the movement is so utterly enrapturing he swears he can see drops of saliva spill over your lips. You yank your hand out of yourself. Your stomach flexes. You yell into the bare room.

And that—that is when he sees it.

Suddenly, a rush of slick squirts out of your cunt and onto the bed, hips flinching as you soak through the sheets beneath your ass. Fuck, even through the horrible quality of the film, he swears he can see the walls of your pussy clenching, opening up around every wash of rushing liquid.

It splatters over your thighs, makes your toes curl into the sheets. The fabric sticks to your skin as you continue to ride out the waves of your orgasm, and when you reach a hand down to rub over your swollen clit, little spurts of it squirt over your naked body in time with every press of your fingers.

Before he even knows it—before he can feel ashamed for it—he’s rock hard against the fly of his jeans, cock pulsing beneath the fabric as he watches you lay panting and flushed in a puddle of your own cum. 

“Yes,” he sees your mouth move, cunt still dribbling onto the bedsheets, “God, yes…”

Hands positively shaking, you lift the toy again, clumsily rubbing your ruined pussy over its shining length.

And, god, he’s helpless to imagine himself in its place. Helpless but to imagine himself between your legs, covered down to his knees in your shining spend. Fuck, it’s intoxicating, and it hits him harder than any drug he possibly could have taken.

Listlessly, he looks at your beautiful face through the film grain…

“Simon,” you whisper to yourself, lazily rubbing your cunt against head of that stupid toy, “Simon…”

Easily, he gets lost in it. 

Lost in the sound of your voice saying his name.

Lost in the heat of your expression.

Lost in the need he feels welling up inside of himself…

Lost in the feeling of his hand palming over himself, hidden by the shadows of the looming conference table.

“Simon?”

The sound of his name—and in the voice of a man no less—makes him jump in his seat. On reflex, he closes his phone.

“What?” He answers cluelessly, slapping his hands down on the surface of the table, like he hadn’t just been thrusting into his own hand mere seconds before.

“I asked you what you thought about it,” Price jammers on, oblivious.

“About what?” he says.

At that, Price raises an eyebrow.

“About the risk assessment results. Y’know…what we’ve been talking about for the last five minutes.”

“Risk assessment,” he uselessly repeats, “Yeah. Well, I…”

Price scrunches his face, glancing between his asinine powerpoint and Simon’s covered face.

“Have you been listening?” He huffs, sounding bored.

“Of course,” he clears his throat, hurriedly absorbing the information on screen, “It’s just—I had a question about that. Must’ve left me for a second there…”

“Uh-uh,” Price glances at his wrist watch.

Simon swallows, cock pulsing rapidly in his pants. He scoots his chair in closer to the table.

“If we go in via the rear entrance, then—then I think would should recruit at least one more person for overwatch. Y’know…At the height of the lower wall, I think it might be possible to put a man on the roof. As—as contingency.”

“Sounds fine to me. You think they’d have a decent shot?”

“Well…” he blinks emptily, “At that angle, I think that...”

The clock continues to tick.

Soap yawns at the other side of the table.

Price looks as if he’d rather be anywhere else than here.

And Simon…

God, his mind is still stuttering, heart racing with adrenaline.

Distracted, he’s stuck on where his phone lies innocently atop the table…and what he knows is happening just beneath the cover of its black screen.

[readwritealldayallnight]

You know the woman in line behind you is getting impatient, hearing her not so subtle exasperated sigh as you continue to search through your bag, your cheeks burning a deeper shade of crimson when you catch the barista’s tight lipped smile in your direction, her attempt at reassuring you as part of her job, though you can tell she wishes you’d hurry up as well

As if your debit card declining a mortifying four times hadn’t been enough, but then your attempt at using your credit card was just as unsuccessful, the sound of the failed transaction on a stupid 6£ drink sounding out for everyone in queue to know how broke you really were

Embarrassment coursing through your veins, already thinking about how you’ll never have the guts to come back to this cafe again as you desperately search for enough spare change at the bottom of your purse to cover this morning’s coffee, your scrambling comes to a pause when a large shadow suddenly eclipses the overheard lighting above you

In the midst of your frantic searching, a tall figure has come to stand just next to you, their gloved hand stretching past your figure to tap a card against the machine, the happy beep of the teller confirming the transaction’s been accepted this time

“I’ve got tha’ for ya.” A deep, gravelly Manchester accent mutters low enough for only you to hear, before the figure tries to retreat back into queue unnoticed

You eyebrows shoot up in shock, the barista equally appearing surprised but not displeased as she finally gets to hand you your drink and quickly wish you a good day before she’s already trying to help the woman waiting behind you

You step aside out of the queue, swinging your head around to try and spot your mystery saviour who stepped in and helped you out without even needing so much as a thanks in return apparently

You spot him instantly, the absolute size of him easily giving him away. No one else in the small cafe could have created such a large, intimidating shadow, let alone spoken in such a deep voice that sent chills down your spine

He stands a head above anyone else in queue, currently last in the line after he stepped out to pay for you. He’s wearing a simple black medical mask on the lower half of his face, a black hoodie with the hood pulled over his head offers you only a small glimpse of his eyes, which are noticeably pointed at the ground at the moment

You’re walking towards him before you even realize it

“Th- thank you. I don’t-” You’re cut off when those same eyes glance up to meet your own, stealing your breath away. He seems almost as surprised that you’re speaking to him as you were when he stepped in and paid for you, his eyes betraying his shock for only a fraction of a second before he’s steeling himself and his eyes darken. You get the vague impression that he isn’t someone who’s used to being caught off guard

“I don’t know what I would’ve done if you weren’t here.” You say to him, wanting to express just how grateful you are to him for his random act of kindness, but he says nothing in return, hardly blinking once as he simply stares back at you

“I can’t understand why my cards weren’t working today. I promise I don’t like- this isn’t a thing I do. Go into coffee shops and pretend I can’t pay, hoping someone else will…” You awkwardly laugh to yourself, beginning to ramble in an effort to fill in the silence

“Anyways I just, really wanted to say thank you. I don’t know how to repay you.” You’re scrambling now, attempting to save face as this man just looks at you, an arm beginning to swing your purse off your shoulder in hopes of maybe finding enough change to appease this guy

“Not necessary.” The deep voice finally says again, his eyes leaving yours to scan you from top to bottom and then back up again, almost examining the sight before him. You almost feel like a deer caught in the headlights for a moment, seeing the mask moving along with the sound of that gravelly voice an enrapturing vision

“Oh- well I- I mean that’s really nice of you, but I swear I can pay you back.” You recognize that feeling beginning to swirl low in your stomach, familiar with the warmth gathering in the apples of your cheeks; your body realizing it a split second before your brain catches up. You’re kind of into this guy. You can’t see much of his face, but the sliver you do see certainly isn’t unattractive, his height and build speaks for itself, with a voice like that and the fact that he’s just saved your butt and expected not even a thanks in return, you’re wondering if he’s too good to be true

“Do you come here often?” You’re asking him before you can stop yourself, watching a single one of his eyebrows arching ever so slightly. “I just mean that- I come here a lot- sometimes. And if you’re here next time I’m here, then maybe I can pay you back, buy you a drink.”

You’re losing confidence the longer he stands there, not answering. What were you thinking? This guy was just trying to be nice, get the annoying girl holding up the line out of the way so that people can order their drinks and go about their day, and here you are holding him up even longer-

“If it’ll make ya happy.” He’s suddenly answering, snapping you out of your downward spiral. If you could see the grin that slowly creeps upon your face, you might be otherwise embarrassed, but right now you can’t bring yourself to care.

“Oh okay, amazing. I mean- yeah that would- that would be cool. Okay.” You reply, glancing at your watch. “I’m not sure for you, but um, I’m almost always here each Sunday. Around this time.”

“I’ll be here next Sunday. Around this time.” He says matter-of-factly.

“Next in line please.” The barista at the corner calls out, interrupting the two of you. You glance back to see that it’s now his turn to order, feeling bad that you’re about to hold up the queue yet again.

“Great. I’ll see you Sunday then. Thank you again, seriously. I really owe you one.” You say, gripping the straps of your bag tighter as you offer him a sheepish smile before ducking out of the busy cafe, a small grin playing across your face.

Ghost watches your figure through the large windows as you walk out of the shop, across the street, disappearing into the crowd of morning goers strolling about. Only once he cannot see you anymore, does he walk up to the counter, slipping a 20£ note to the barista along with a slight nod of acknowledgement, before he himself is turning to walk out of the cafe, empty handed, intent on catching up to you from a distance.

~~~~~~~~~~

AKA Ghost has been stalking you for months and finally comes up with a way to have you approach him

[the-thing-inside-your-closet]

The Feast!

Inspired by this post

Danny, now an adult, works as an engineer and tech developer for Wayne Enterprises. One day, he has to bring his daughter, Ellie, into work with him. Ellie’s school had been temporarily shut down after a rouge attack, and the campus isn’t yet safe for the students to return to.

Danny had been ready to call into work to request the time off he’d need to watch his daughter until the school could be re-opened. However, his bosses seemed to be aware of the situation, and the predicament faced by many of the parents who worked for them. And a company wide email was sent out advertising Bring Your Kid To Work Day! Wayne Enterprises was offering all employees with children too young to be left home alone unsupervised the opportunity to bring their children in to work with them for the week, as that was the timeframe thus far given for when the school would be safely up and running again.

Danny is relieved that he wouldn’t need to take any unpaid time off. Nor try to find a last minute babysitter who’d A: Danny could trust to watch his little star, and B: be willing and able to watch her.

When he tells her about coming to work with him, Ellie is ecstatic! She gets to see where her dad works! And she gets to meet his work-friends! She’s so excited! She wants to make a good impression, so when Danny has gone off to begin cooking dinner, Ellie begins to make plans.

The next day, Ellie has woken up early and already gotten herself ready. She decided to wear a large poofy jacket and a pink too too over the top of her jeans. She has her backpack, filled with things to entertain her.

Once they’ve arrived and Danny has introduced Ellie to a few of his co-workers and some of their own children on the way to his desk. Along the way, Danny and Ellie pass by several offices and a we meeting rooms. It’s in one of these meeting rooms that Ellie spots her first target.

She quickly slips into the room before Danny can notice she’s run off and approaches the young man, teenager?, hunched over some papers reading intently. He’s got bags under his eyes that rivalled Danny’s back when he was still actively protecting Amity. He looks like he’s living off of nothing but caffeine and spite alone, and hasn’t had a proper nights sleep in months.

None of the other various businessmen and women in the room have noticed her presence yet, as she silently wanders up to the sleepy boy-man. She reaches into her pocket and just as she’s about to pull out her little gift, Danny has burst into the room frantically having noticed his child has slipped away. Again.

All eyes are on Danny as he apologises profusely for the intrusion, swooping in to take Ellie’s hand. He’s still apologising, now to the sleepy boy-man who is looking at Ellie in awe, like he couldn’t believe he hadn’t noticed her enter the room.

While her dad was still rambling Ellie quickly pulls an orange from her pocket and hands it to the boy-man. He takes it with a curious and perplexed look on his face.

“Ellie,” Danny sighs, “not again.”

Ellie grins and reaches into her jackets to pull out another orange. Danny swipes it before she can hand it to the businessman sitting next to the boy-man. She pulls out another one, and as Danny is grabbing it she slips from his grip and ducks under the table. Ellie runs to the centre of the room and unzips her backpack. She tips it upside down, and what looks to be 20 oranges spill out and roll across the floor.

With a feral grin, Ellie picks up an orange and throws her hands into the air in triumph, and shouts. “LET US FEAST!”