#future me might be less grateful

[violent138]

every time someone says The Batman I have to remind myself yall are talking about Battison not the Matsudaverse cartoon I used to watch on KidsWB.

[no you don't need to change how you refer to it. my nostalgia glasses are just foggy as fuck and i need to clean them]

I love that cartoon! You've successfully derailed several plans now as I must watch some of it, and you're not the first person to point out the confusion (I need to get clearer about using The Battinson or something as a name).

[smute]

so im moving back home next month to save some money during my last semester of grad school, and as grateful as i am for even having that option, a not so small part of me is very scared that it may turn out to be... not quite as temporary as i am currently hoping it will be🙂

[bodybaggage]

Phantom in the League pt.2

The Reality of Phantom

---

The atmosphere in the Watchtower had become decidedly less tense after Danny’s revelation. The League was still processing the idea of one of their own being the ruler of an entire interdimensional ghostly kingdom, but they were professionals. They’d seen stranger things.

Well, most of them had. Flash was still stuck on something that Danny had casually dropped during the initial conversation. The speedster tapped his foot impatiently, waiting for the right moment to bring it up.

“Okay, okay, hold up,” Flash finally blurted out, snapping his fingers as the thought clicked into place. “You said your name is Danny Fenton, right?”

Danny, who had been silently dreading this part of the conversation, nodded hesitantly. “Uh, yeah. That’s me.”

“And you’re a teenager?” Flash asked, narrowing his eyes suspiciously as he zipped over to scrutinize Danny’s face up close.

“Last time I checked, yeah,” Danny replied, leaning back slightly from Flash’s sudden invasion of personal space.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. So you’re telling me you’re not some ancient ghost who’s been around for centuries, pulling strings from behind the scenes?” Flash’s eyes were wide with shock. “You’re just… a kid?”

“Hey!” Danny protested, crossing his arms over his chest. “I’m not just a kid. I’ve been through a lot, okay?”

Wonder Woman stepped in, placing a calming hand on Flash’s shoulder. “Barry, remember what we discussed about making assumptions?”

Flash blinked and gave her a sheepish smile. “Right, sorry. It’s just… wow. You’re younger than some of the villains we’ve fought.”

Green Lantern rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, glancing at Batman, who remained as stoic as ever. “Uh, so… not to be insensitive or anything, but you’re, uh, you’re dead, right? Like… you’re a ghost?”

Danny sighed, rubbing the back of his head. “Yeah. Half-ghost, technically. But, yeah. I died… sort of.”

The room fell into a brief silence, the weight of Danny’s words settling over them. It wasn’t something the League was accustomed to dealing with—death was part of their lives, yes, but having a teammate who had already crossed that threshold was… different.

Superman, ever the symbol of hope, stepped forward, his voice gentle. “Danny, we won’t ask how it happened. It’s not our place, and we respect your privacy. But if you ever need to talk about it, we’re here for you.”

Danny offered him a grateful smile. “Thanks, Supes. It’s, uh, a bit of a sensitive subject. But I appreciate it.”

Batman, who had been observing quietly, finally spoke up. “If you’re the King of the Infinite Realms, that means you’re responsible for a vast number of spirits and entities. Your age doesn’t change the fact that you’re capable of handling this responsibility. We trust your judgment.”

“Plus,” Flash added with a grin, “you’ve got us to back you up. We’ll make sure you don’t get overwhelmed with all that kingly stuff.”

Danny chuckled, feeling some of the tension ease. “Thanks, guys. It’s nice to know I’ve got some backup, especially when things get… complicated.”

There was a brief pause before Green Lantern asked the question everyone had been thinking but was too polite to voice. “So… do you, like, age? Or are you stuck as a teenager forever?”

Danny shrugged. “I honestly don’t know. Clockwork—you know, the Master of Time—he’s my mentor, and he’s hinted that I might age slower now, but he’s never been clear on the details.”

Batman nodded, his mind already analyzing the implications. “You’re in a unique situation. If your aging process is altered, it could affect how we approach future missions and strategies involving you.”

“Yeah,” Flash chimed in, grinning. “But, hey, look on the bright side! You get to be the youngest member of the League indefinitely! Think of all the birthday parties we can throw.”

Danny laughed, shaking his head. “As long as you don’t make a big deal out of it, I’m good with that. And for the record, I don’t really do birthdays. Kind of lost the appeal after, well, you know… dying.”

The room fell into a brief, awkward silence before Flash cleared his throat. “Right, sorry. Didn’t mean to make it weird.”

“It’s fine,” Danny reassured him with a smile. “I’m just still getting used to all this myself.”

Superman nodded. “We’ll respect your boundaries, Danny. You’ve already proven yourself to us time and time again. Your age doesn’t change that.”

“Agreed,” Wonder Woman added. “You are more than capable, Danny, and your youth is not a weakness. If anything, it speaks to your strength and resilience.”

Danny felt a warm surge of gratitude toward his teammates. He had been worried about how they’d react to the truth, but they had accepted him without hesitation. “Thanks, everyone. I guess I’ve been carrying this around for a while, and it feels good to finally let you all in on it.”

Batman’s voice, as calm and commanding as ever, broke the brief silence. “We’ll need to adjust some of our protocols now that we know the full extent of your abilities and responsibilities. But for now, we have more pressing matters to attend to. The dimensional rifts.”

“Right,” Danny agreed, snapping back to business mode. “I think I can close them, but I’ll need to figure out what’s causing them first. It could be something from the Realms leaking into your world.”

“Then we’ll start by monitoring the rifts and gathering as much data as possible,” Batman stated, already strategizing. “And Danny, if you need to access any resources from the Watchtower to help with your investigation, you have full clearance.”

Danny grinned, feeling more confident than he had in a long time. “Thanks, Bats. I’ll take you up on that.”

As they all prepared to leave the briefing room, Flash lingered for a moment, leaning in close to Danny with a conspiratorial grin. “So… do you have ghostly powers that let you pull pranks? Because I’ve got some ideas.”

Danny’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “Oh, you have no idea, Barry. Just wait until you see what I can do.”

With that, the two exchanged a knowing look, and Danny couldn’t help but feel a sense of relief. The truth was out, and despite the initial awkwardness, the League had accepted him for who he was—both as Danny and as Phantom.

And with that acceptance came a new sense of belonging, one that made the title of King of the Infinite Realms feel just a little bit lighter.

pt. 1

---

don’t mind me, im just mass posting my drafts rn👩‍🦯

[flower-blossoms654]

The most painful part of Shoto Todoroki as a character is that I think if he could stop himself from being born, he would do it without hesitation.

What if his father found out about Touya having both his mother’s ice and his fire before he was born? Would his mother have been happier? Would she have never been sent away? Would Touya have been happier? Would he have never become a villain? Would his father have been satisfied? Would Fuyumi and Natsuo have been valued?

I think it’s easy for him to see himself as less than human sometimes. Just a byproduct of multiple experiments — finally a perfect doll with no defects. His actions during the beginning of UA and the sports festival were a direct protest of that role.

“Look at me father. Look at this faulty doll that you made.”

It was better to be faulty with defects because that meant that he was human.

I think he stares into the mirror at the scar on his face. I think he’s grateful for it. It was from his mother. Her misshapen stitching — a marring feature on an otherwise perfect merchandise.

He is the perfect split of his mother and father, so he finds that it’s the easiest to lay the blame on himself rather than any of his other siblings. He’d encourage it if he could. While everyone else is their own person, an adaptation of a recipe of their parents, you can see each half of him plainly.

He might be his mother’s son but he is also his father’s.

It’s why the dream of a perfect future doesn’t have him in it. He is the very evidence of his father’s wrongdoings.

A perfect future can’t have him in it.

[luffyvace]

Vinsmoke Sanji x male reader

Wano Sanji>> 😍🧑‍🍳💋

I won’t tolerate any hate for me writing Sanji x a male reader if you don’t like it block me :)

Sanji loving a male has two possibilities of how it happened: A) an au where he’s bi or smth or B) he loved women until you. Now he respects women and loves you!

let’s go with B for the sake of making you feel as special as you are 😉👌

honestly from here you can basically just read any Sanji headcanons and know what your relationship is like so I’m not gonna repeat the traditional sanji things 😅 but from now on male reader will be heavily implied/mentioned :3 💗

Sanji as a boyfriend is a great punching bag if you have anger issues and sparring partner! 😁 if your a hot headed person he’ll let you punch him as many times as you want til you get all your emotions out. He knows what it’s like to bottle it up and he’s rather have you take it out on him then implode it on yourself. Now, others he doesn’t care about unless they’re a woman. Will still side with you tho

”hey watch where your going!”

- you

”excuse me??”

- random woman

”please excuse us, my lady, my lovely boyfriend~ (😍) is trying to get through”

- Simpji

Sanji is really strong so as a sparring partner he’s great! You can tell him to stop holding back as much as you want but you can’t rely on him for that. 😊 He would rather just be used as a punching bag honestly, he doesn’t wanna hurt you!! 😓 Will be 00.1% less lenient if your strong like the monster trio buuuut not a big difference. He’s not underestimating you at all! You can tell by his constant praises on how strong you are- but he just doesn’t wanna hurt his DAAAARLING FUTURE HUSBAND~ (😍)

if your weaker, he insists you won’t have to train much because he’ll always protect you. Just like he has the instincts to detect a woman’s tears, he now has the ability to tell if you need help! His heart will clench and his stomach will twist before he darts off to find you without a word (despite worrying your crew-)

Will spar with you if your really serious about getting stronger to help protect you and your crewmates. But he might suggest you get a weapon built by Usopp (or Franky) first.

”MY LOVELY BOYFRIEND IS SO KIND~ HE WANTS TO GET STRONGER TO PROTECT EVERYONE!~~ The rest of you jerks better be grateful!! 😤 -not you! Nami-San! Robin-Chwan!”

No matter your body type Sanji will dote on you! 😘 ABS⁉️ AN ALL OUT NOSE BLEED!! YOUR SO HANDSOME HE JUST MIGHT PASS OU- 😴 A dad bod?? 😍😍 AWOOGA~ Sounds sensual and sultry to him 💋💋 On the chubbier side? STILL HOT!! Mwah! Come over here sugar lips 😜

- his words not mine 😚

his dates can vary from really romantic to more casual, depends on what type of guy you are. If your in tune with your emotions like him you guys’ll probably seem a lot more cheesy- IN A GOOD WAY‼️💗 Otherwise, if distant or just put up a front, etc then he’ll tone it down. His side of the party will still be uh, not necessarily dramatic but dramatic, on the other hand. What I mean by that is he’s still a simp but your dates won’t be so cliche, at the least. More so activities like festivals, carnivals, roller skating, all that good stuff!

of course he can always arrange a time on the merry/sunny for a food date where he cooks all your favs!…one prob tho..Luffy. 🤦‍♀️ Actually, a good time to get away with a dinner date is when Luffy’s not around! And by that I’m talking when he’s on an island exploring and Sanji tells the others to go on ahead, leaving you two alone on the ship! 😁👍

Sanji thinks your so cool when you fight tbh. It doesn’t matter how strong or weak you are, you’ll always look tough while fighting 💪 If your weak he’s got your back!! Of course, likewise if your strong, but he worries 0.1% less if you are. He will forever be concerned about his boyfriend’s well being 🤷‍♀️ At the very least he knows you could handle yourself on your own if there’s a 0% chance that he can’t come to your aid. (He will always show up for you 🙏)

The op men seem to be more annoyed with Sanji’s simp behavior so if that’s you….it still won’t change anything…feel free to kick him tho! He’ll let you 😘 He has a nose bleed after too (not only cuz you kicked him but bc you looked hot while doing so 😍) Yeah the grind never stops, and that’s on simping 😜👍

Will let you call him any nickname! Or insult- you could practically hate him and he’d still be your loyal lap dog 🐩 Bro is down on his knees down bad 😭🙏 ‘Even when he calls me crude cook~ HE’S STILL THE MOST GLORIOUS MAN IN THE WORLD!~ 😻” If your pet/nicknames are more romantic or loving it’ll give him an even worse nose bleed for sure. He gets butterflies either way- of course. 😂

If you were to ever get hurt he’s going to quite literally hurl his boot at their face, and I’m not implying he takes his shoe off. Naturally, this outcome only happens with a man. If a woman is beating you he will prioritize your safety and run away with you. Or distract her so you can get Nami or Robin.

⚠️Skip if you haven’t watched Whole Cake arc⚠️

(Now, for a head’s up idk how Sanji’s fam works bc I’m not on whole cake yet-) Sanji’s family will likely diss him even further for being a man who likes other men. Reiju might support him- but his father will be utterly disappointed! ‘Now he can’t even marry a women to strengthen they’re bloodline!’ (Sanji’s dad<< 🙄) But don’t worry ik for a fact his super awesome boyfriend came through to save the day 🦸

(Back to regual hcs, mini Whole Cake spoiler over 👍)

This hc right here kinda gn but he will give you the biggest, happiest, silliest smile ever if you compliment his eyebrows. Or at least say they don’t look silly/you like them. IK he’s not necessarily insecure of the look overall but bc his doesn’t look like his family’s eyebrows, but it still makes him feel better about it ❤️‍🩹

so yeah please do compliment him on it 💗

I don’t really like to talk about who’s the “dom” in the relationship but I’m gonna mention it just this once and hear me out‼️

He’d be so flustered if you were!! Like?? Your taking care of him?? Being protective over him?? 😻🙏 AWOOGA- 💥 (he passed out) You could practically demand anything from him anyway but imagine him having a nose bleed all down his face as he stutters out a “yes sir” and immediately gets on the job 🙌 Bonus points if you have a deep voice 🤷‍♀️ (Not even in a suggestive way, btw, just genuinely having rizz 🤪🙏)

Or maybe he’s the “dom” He’d be so happy to take care and protect you, as he always is. But this time he cranks up his flirting game x200. Like he’s actually trying and not just using simp, servant, slave rizz (LOL- 😂)

Think about him leaning in real close to your ear, lowering his voice, before saying “I’ve cooked you a meal 😏” (or smth I ain’t the rizz master-)

You get my point! Case closed ok? Point is he’d be a lot more smooth than a simp. Ya got me? Good.

Edit: I added more! ψ(｀∇´)ψ

Reqs officially back open!! Now I’m just gonna freelance and write from my list

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Cool for the Summer 3

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, age gap, power dynamics, cheating, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: After finishing your degree, you return home only to find things aren’t as you left them.

Characters: Bucky Barnes

Note: another week of the grind.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

Your peaceful awakening is quickly undermined by recollection. You look around at the room, the physical changes mirroring those less tangible. The bookshelves, the vanity, the rug. You sit up and sigh. You should be grateful but you’re just overwhelmed.

You get up and stretch as you walk around the bed. You’re pretty sure he’s still there. You go to the dresser. You took your time putting away your clothes, just to distract yourself.

You listen to the hallway before you peek around your door. You cross the hall and knock before you lock yourself in the bathroom. You can’t help but think of your unexpected run-in last night. As you do, your hip tingles where Bucky’s hand was.

You shake it off and strip down. You leave your clothes by the sink and hang a fresh towel on the bar. You waste no time washing up as every noise has you jumping and flinching. The door might be locked but you can’t help but feel uneasy about the extra body in the house.

As you get out, you realise you didn’t entirely think this through. You grabbed a towel but not fresh clothes. You could put on the dirty ones but for what? Just to go change again?

You pat off the excess water and wrap yourself in the towel. You gather up your clothes and near the door. You put your ear to the door and wait. You don’t hear anything.

You come out slowly and tiptoe down the hall. You near your door and jump as you notice the figure you didn’t see before. Bucky stands at the top of the stairs. He watches you as you stop and hug your clothes tighter. You gulp. Where did he come from?

“Uh, sorry, I didn’t know you were awake. I was just about to put on some coffee and was going to ask…” his eyes drift down and you shift on your feet as your bare legs prickle. “Um, uh, did you drink coffee? I can make enough for everyone.”

“Er, sure,” you utter after a crackling cough.

Your voice jerks you into action and you quickly retreat into your room. You nap the door shut, hiding behind it, and close your eyes in full-body cringe. Of course! You always have the worst timing.

You shake your head but can’t shed the heat that encases you. You just feel strange. The way he gaped, the way his eyes roved over you, and the night before. Him walking around without a shirt, touching your hip, calling you ‘baby girl’.

You drop your clothes on the bed and go to the dresser. You take out a pair of lilac shorts and frilly baby doll shirt. You lay them on the wood and sift around for a pair of boy shorts. You pull out a plain cotton pair and narrow your eyes at the wall.

How did he not know you were awake? You can always hear the shower from downstairs. He may have thought it was your mom but if they’ve been seeing each other for a while, he’d know she loves to sleep in on her days off.

You pull on your underwear and your basic white bra. You slip into your shorts but leave the shirt on the dresser. You go to the vanity and sit down as you search through your toiletry bag. You spread moisturiser over your skin and neck. Your eyes catch the carved roses around the frame, the layers delicately crafted.

You should thank Bucky. For real. Not that stunned and dumb thanks he got yesterday. You’re in no hurry to talk to him after what just happened though.

You get up and stretch your arms up. You turn and cross the room to grab your shirt. You pull it on and linger by the end of the bed. You pace around restlessly. You can’t hide up here for two long. He’ll know you’re avoiding him.

Well, he isn’t there for you. He’s your mom’s boyfriend. You shouldn’t worry so much about him. It’s just that stupid thing that gets in your head when it comes to boys. Boys? You’re an adult. So is he. And he’s much older. He’s a man and well above your age bracket.

It’s silly to even suspect that. You’re just adjusting to him being around. That’s all it is. You never had a man in the house; no father, no male roommates. You’ve always felt safer around women. Or alone.

You grip the door knob and turn. You look down as you feel the cool crystal. That’s new too.

You pull inward and step into the hall. You can hear the grind of the coffee machine from the kitchen. As you make your way to the stairs, you examine the walls, the floor, the railing. Funny that the rest of the house is the same when there’s that creaky step four down and the bathroom door is slightly crooked in the frame.

Your descent is forewarned by the very same groaning stair. You wince as you put your weight on it and hesitate to go further. You follow the scent of coffee into the kitchen. As much as you’d like to avoid another encounter, you need to clear the fog from your head.

As you enter the kitchen, Bucky stands with his back to you. He doesn’t seem to hear you. He kneads his neck with his fingers and pushes his head back. He grunts and he strains and stretches, letting out a rumble as he drops his arms.

“Erm, ahem,” you linger at the door. “Can I get a cup?”

“Oh shit—shoot,” he turns and leans on the counter with a chuckle. He grins as you sway uncertaintly. “Sorry, I didn’t hear you—let me--”

“It’s okay, I can get one,” you scurry forward but before you can get there, he has the cupboard open. He turns and takes down a cup. The teal one with the daisy on it. That’s your favourite. “Oh, thanks.”

“No problem,” he winks as you look at him only to quickly shy away. He slides it over to you as the machine spout drips. “Afraid you caught me at a bad moment. I think I slept weird. Got this kick and I can feel it…” he points along his trap, just beneath the thin fabric of his tee shirt, “right here but I just can’t get in there. Fingers are too… thick.”

“Mm, that sounds… uncomfortable.”

“Sure is. I wanted to mow the lawn to surprise your mom but I don’t know,” he explains.

You grab the carafe from the burner and fill your cup. He’s quiet as you feel him watching you. He spreads his hand flat on the counter top. Is he leaning in?

“Hey, this might be weird but do you think you could do me a favour? You got small hands and--”

“Hmm?” Your eyes round in surprise. You think you know what he means but you don’t want to say it.

“You could just press into the muscle. See if you can loosen it up.” He lifts his hand slightly, stand his hand up on his fingers. “If that’s-- if you’re okay with that? If not, I might find a pen or something.”

“Well, er, I guess…” you glance up as his cheek ticks and he rubs his neck with a groan.

“Really, if you don’t want to--”

“It’s… if it hurts… I just wouldn’t want to make it worse,” you stutter, running your fingertips up and down the handle of your mug.

“Oh, I don’t think you can make anything worse,” he smirks. “Really, you’d be doing me a big favour, baby girl.”

There’s that name again. You’re not brave enough to call him out on it. You shrug.

“Okay,” you agree, “how, er…”

He looks around, “oh, uh, I’ll sit.”

He steps away from the counter and crosses to the other side of the kitchen. He sits on the dining table and you hover where you are. You turn slowly to follow. You approach him as he pushes his shoulders wide.

“Where… how…” you don’t know how to ask.

“Just here,” he points to the side of his neck.

“Al…right,” you drawl dumbly and bring your hands up. You gently touch him and he purrs. You rub his skin and feel the goosebumps rise.

“Just a little firmer, baby girl,” he hums.

You push your fingertips into his neck and knead. He groans louder and leans his head forward. He drones then choke.

“Mmm, I think…” He leans away from you and you drop your hand. “Here, it’s under my shoulder,” he rasps. “Let me just--” he reaches back and tugs his shirt up. He peels it off and you blanch. You’re happy he can’t see your face. “Just here…”

He points over his shoulders and you stare at his muscles. Your eyes wander up to the back of his head and the streaks of silver and dark brown. You glance back down. You’ve seen some boys with their shirts off as they ran across campus or when they were hanging out with your roommates but you’ve never been this close.

“Um…” you reach for him and gently trace along his muscle, “here?”

“Just along the blade, baby girl.” You move your finger and he purrs. “Oh yeah. That’s it. Oh… harder…” he hangs his head again and grips his thighs. “That’s so good.”

He gasps as you feel some resistance and then it loosens. You roll your finger against him and he breathes slowly. You stop and pull your hand back.

“Is that good?” You ask.

He puffs out a few more times. He sucks in a deep breath and sits up. He rolls his shoulders and sighs.

“Oh, god, yes,” he moves his head back and forth. “Wow, you got that magic touch.” He stands, keeping his shirt in his hand. “Mmm, I feel young again.”

You flutter your fingers and nod as he faces you. You shy away back to the counter but stop yourself from taking your mug. You look at him over your shoulder.

“You want some too?” You ask.

“You’re so sweet, baby girl. Sure. I’ll have some but I’m gonna go get the mower out. Mind bringing it to me?” He suggests.

You nod again, almost furiously. You just want some space. Your fingers are hot and tingly.

“Just black, thanks.”

You turn to the counter again and open the cupboard. You listen to him go and focus on pouring a second cup. You add some milk to your own and take a mouthful, savouring it before you make yourself take his.

You bring the cup with you and stop by the door to step into a pair of slides. You come outside as you hear him rolling the mower out of the open garage. He’s still shirtless. It’s pretty hot out. You come down the steps and near him.

“Hi, your coffee,” you announce as you balance the cup.

“Oh, wonderful,” he smiles as he takes it. “Thanks.”

He raises the cup to his lips and drinks deeply. His chest fills with air and looks even bigger. He’s in pretty good shape. Not just for his age but in general. You shouldn’t think about that though.

“Er, I hate to ask you for more but the suns blazing. You mind getting my back?” He turns and dips into the garage. You peek around as he puts his cup down then takes a bright orange bottle; sunscreen.

You blink. Oh my. You bounce nervously on your feet. You look around. You want to say no. You should. It isn’t inappropriate but it feels like it.

The sunlight glints at the end of your vision. You clamp your lips tight and come forward. You reach for the bottle and he hands it over.

“Here,” he says as you take it. He turns and presents his back.

Reluctantly, you pop the cap open and squeeze the lotion into your palm. You bend to put the bottle down and rub your hand together, then turn them out. You press them to his back and drag them around his skin.

You smear the sunscreen but it’s greasy and doesn’t absorb easily. You keep rubbing until it starts to seep into his skin. He groans, like before and leans his head back. As he does, you sense something else. Something lower down.

He reaches back blindly and brushes his fingers up your thigh, toying with the edge of your shorts. You stop, flattening your hands against him, and look down. You pull your hands away and step out of his reach.

“I…” you swallow. “My coffee will get cold.”

You turn and flee without looking back. You can only think one thing; it didn’t happen, it didn’t happen… and if it did, it wasn’t what you thought.

[autistichalsin]

I want to ask how you feel about Halsin's ending. Specifically the part where he doesnt invite the player to go with him. Not to give vampire on main, but I sit around wondering if he even wanted the player to come at all since he didnt actually invite them or even hint about it or anything. Which is also kind of weird to me because he's been pretty straight forward and honest with the player up to that point so I cant help but wonder if maybe he was trying to break it off. Roaming free and all that you know?

I don't think it's about roaming or not being committed to you, though of course Halsin does have a different way of defining relationships. If you put the pieces together from the rest of his scenes, especially his solomanced epilogue, you notice a few things.

Halsin has severe abandonment issues; multiple times near the end, you can suggest leaving (whether disbanding your group or dumping him as a partner) and he will sadly lament that it was inevitable. A lot of people with abandonment issues start getting so used to being left behind that they start doing the leaving first, feeling like it might hurt less if they do it.

Similarly, Halsin says in his solomanced epilogue that he never thought the player would want to go with him; "you could have done anything, gone with anyone... yet you chose me." He also looks utterly stunned when you tell him you do want to go with him, but also overjoyed when you assert that yes, that is what you want.

With both of those things taken together? Due to his idolization of you and his abandonment issues, he thought it was impossible that you could ever want to stay with him. He just genuinely never thought it was possible. So he made the step of leaving, of building a future for himself, under the assumption that you, the savior of Baldur's Gate, would want to stay in the city to enjoy the parades and feats in your honor rather than start a brand new life with him. If you tell him you want to part ways, he sadly tells you it was always meant to be, and that he is still grateful for having met you; if you tell him that of course you're coming, he is stunned, but immediately accepts the idea as soon as you reassure him that this is what you want.

So all that to say? He wanted to join you more than anything- he just never dared think you would actually want him, too. ;-;

[artytaeh]

mattheo actually craves love and attention, if you give him a egg with silly eyes drawn on them he will be attached to it like its his kid

regulus would love poems, idk if its common sense at this point but for me Regulus is REALLY into literature

draco would love hair dye

blaise would love that little handmade gifts that has the spotify thing to use the qr code on, he's really into music, change my mind

UNIRONICALLY, i feel like mattheo is one of my favorite incorrect quotes. it doesn't matter if it's silly, or would give him a slightly less tough, masculine look; mattheo quickly becomes attached to whatever you gave him and proudly brags that it's his. a present from you. to HIM.

mattheo: what's this bullshit?

reader: ah, you don't have to keep it—

mattheo: [hugging whatever you gave him close to his chest, turning his body to shield it from your grasp] back off. it's mine now.

⭑ ⋯ ⋯ ﹒ 🪻 ’

as for regulus, you gave me an epiphany?! that sounds so much like him. regulus + love poems made my heart ache in a strange way ☹️✋ nevermind what he says, i know that regulus would be able to write the most gut wrenching, painfully beautiful poem ever. tragically beautiful type of writing.

⭑ ⋯ ⋯ ﹒ 🪻 ’

draco receiving hair dye made me laugh because at first he'd be offended. would look at you as if you had rapped a whole song insulting his family, from his ancestors to his future children.

(he'd still keep the hair dye. no way in hell is he wasting it.)

but depending on how close you are to him, and if you don't make jokes about him bleacing his hair, draco would be so grateful. specially if you bought it because you noticed that his stock was nearly ending. to him, it's the fact that you payed such close attention, and care for him.

⭑ ⋯ ⋯ ﹒ 🪻 ’

AND YOU'RE SO RIGHT ABOUT BLAISE. i totally see him as the type of person that has ten different playlists, for ten different things.

playlist to make out, playlist to shower, playlist while he's working out, another one to study too. would make you a playlist for your first month together, and even one with songs meant to cheer you up, if you're going through a rough week.

would love it if you made a playlist about your favorite songs, because that allows him to discover more songs that he might like, while also getting to know you better. 🗯️

[rawmeknockout]

Give me more CILF (Creator I'd like to fuck) writing! Please, I beg of you!

an assortment!

Rodimus is the young, hot, eager- to-please Captain that wants to spark you up soooo bad. There's just something so hot about the way you care so fiercely for your sparkling, it really gets his engine revving. He knows he's younger than you, but that doesn't make him any less of a mech! In fact, he's got all the energy and stamina a sire could need to look after any (potential) future sparklings you might have together. He's always looking to impress you, almost tripping over himself to prove he's the mech for you. Drift has heard enough of his delulu daydreams about how much he'd like to give you another. He's always been attracted to older mechs (hard not to be when your entire population is as long-lived as Cybertronians. He may be your boss, a headstrong and over-confident sort of guy, but he could be gentle if you wanted him to be! Let him show you!

Megatron is much quieter in his appreciation of you. It's not that the thought hasn't crossed his mind that you would look SO good carrying his sparkling, it's just that he's well aware how awful a decision that would be. Doesn't stop him from cranking his shaft to the idea. He's perfectly happy to look after the sparkling you already have when you need a break. Some might say he's the very last mech that should be in charge of looking after a sparkling, but he believes that some Autobots are far too self-sacrificing. Sure, he's now committed to the Autobots, but he still holds his personal belief that Cybertronians have value far greater than any self-perceived benefit to others. He will teach your sparkling that they exist first for themselves and for no other to take advantage of: be it a system or an individual. It just sort of helps that looking after your sparkling and ingratiating himself to them also puts him in closer proximity to you.

Ratchet won't ever admit it but the prospect of having a sparkling has always been so tempting for him. Of course, he was never in any position to have a sparkling of his own, first with his practice in Dead End and then the war, and now that he's quite a bit older the chances of that have gone down tremendously. In fact, he sees it as almost bordering on negligent to conceive one. But when he sees you with your sparkling his fantasies and daydreams of a domestic life come surging to the forefront of his processor. It's hard not to feel envy towards you, even if you're forced to care for your sparkling alone, but he tries to stamp out those feelings. You're not deserving of his resentment because he chose not to have bitlets. When he gets to know you better he feels all the worse for having been envious of you, and incredibly grateful that you would let him look after your sparkling. Even if the bitlet isn't his, Ratchet is attached to your offspring like no other and is always fussing after their (and your) care. If Drift notices a difference in Ratchet's demeanor, a certain wistfulness about him, he doesn't bring it up. He knows Ratchet would simply be reluctant to give himself what he wants, although Ratchet carrying the sparkling isn't the only option...

Whirl thinks it's hot. Okay, sure he thinks a lot of things are sexy that aren't supposed to be (that one time Brainstorm's optic was hanging from the socket, for example) but this one of normal! He insists. It's not everyday you meet a Cybertronian who has carried their own offspring. It's sort of an uncommon practice and definitely the most dangerous given the alternatives, but that's part of what makes it so sexy. Rung has informed him that is, actually, a little fucked up (not his words). Whirl would like to know what you looked like carrying. Not every carrier's frame will change drastically, in fact many don't if their armor is bulky enough, but maybe yours did. The fact your frame is so... powerful in a sense, resilient, and durable is kind of a turn on for him. But then again, Whirl gets heated if there's a gun pointed at him, so maybe it is fucked up. Your frame went through all the taxing processes of creating another Cybertronian, and you didn't die! What he wouldn't give to put your frame through it's paces again... Ultra Magnus has gently tried to convince you to get a restraining order against Whirl.

[droodlebug]

Hi !! I hate making posts like this but unfortunately there's not much else I Can do. Basically, I'm in like near 2k usd of debt from medical bills and mobility aid upkeep.

My doctors and I don't know what's wrong with me still, but it's progressive and has gotten significantly worse in the past few months. I haven't been able to work for over a year; I'm nonfunctional for the first half, if not all, of every day. Fatigue, paralysis, muscle spasms and weakness, incredible pain. It's all very. cool. I've been waiting to hear anything back from the disability I filed for in November of last year. It's been in the medical review since January.

And if you can imagine isn't Great when trying to afford my medications (including. . expensive. opioids) or the frequent doctor visits and tests. Here's a very fun screenshot of my bank account as proof of how much I have to offer:

At the current moment, I need at least $30 to cover the minimum monthly payment on one of my credit cards by October 15

I hate asking for help, but with the hurricane having gone by and the weather varying by near 30°F from day to night it's been a fight just to sit up, much less do anything that might get some funds. I would be So appreciative and endlessly grateful for anyone that would be able to help. Even if it's just reblogging my stuff, I can't express enough how much it would mean to me. Bankruptcy is probably in my future, but I'd rather not make that future come any faster than it needs to.

I have a Ko-Fi and I have commissions that start at 20 usd. For the moment, I can take up to 3 slots.

Thank you so much <3

[boxofbonesfic]

Title: Brave [9 of ?]

Pairing: Orc!Steve x Reader

Summary: You find unexpected acceptance within the pack.  

Warnings: 18+ Only, Genre typical violence, Warlord Nomad AU, Dark Fantasy AU, Enemies to lovers, Eventual smut, References to past abuse, Fighting, Monsters, Animal Death, Violence, Mildly described gore

A/N: 👀 as always, reblogs and feedback of all kinds are appreciated and always welcome! thank you! mind the warnings ❤️

When you wake, it is to thick fog.  It is early, the pale shadow of the sun barely visible above the damp grass. You wake before most of the pack, the majority of them still tucked away in their sleeping rolls. Carol is too, you spy the top of her blonde head some twenty, thirty paces away.

You rise quietly, rolling your pack up before slinging the bow Steve had given you across your shoulders—just in case. Your short-sword, a mere dagger in an Orc’s hands—remains strapped to your waist. The grass sea is dangerous.  You’d known it before, but now you understand it. ‘Tis an accursed land, far from Halith’s light. You have found no curses here, though. No angry, vengeful Gods; at least no more or less vengeful than your father’s own. 

The grass parts for you easily, though your feet stick in the mud. The bound leathers Carol had fitted for your “tiny human feet” do better at keeping out the damp and the cold than any shoes made in the village ever had, and you are especially grateful for them now. It hasn’t taken long—only a matter of weeks, really—for the village that had been your home for every summer its walls had stood to belong to another you, another life. You have no desire to return to the clutches of the Kingdom, nor the Church of Undying Light. They are as dead to you as the ones lost in the pass. 

Still, though, you cannot help but wonder what lies ahead as you move slowly through the grass. What future Tarrath holds for you. Steve had spoken of a vast city on the edge of an endless salt-sea, and you long to gaze upon it with your own eyes, to learn its mysteries. 

You are not far from the camp now, close enough to see it over the tops of the grass if you stand on the very tips of your toes. By the time you’ve crested the nearby hill, your cheeks warm with exertion and brow damp, the morning mist has all but dissipated. You stare down at the valley spread out below you with awe.

In the distance to the east, you can see the dark shape of that treacherous pass, dotted against the landscape. But in truth, you can see so much more. The sky is a pale, sickly blue, still a shadow of its former self after the might of the storm, but even so, you are glad to see it anyway. The grass sea stretches on for uncountable leagues in every direction, rolling into a horizon so vast your head spins at the thought of it. Mountains rise and fall, emerging and disappearing into the green. 

The world is quite a bit bigger than I imagined.

You had never really imagined it at all, existence beyond the village was immaterial and unimportant, your life a strange combination of droll, unending horror that you’d known would one day end in your unremarkable death. But now the land itself unfurls before you like the most tempting of scrolls, begging you to look, to see, to know and understand, to learn and experience—and you want to. 

The shifting hiss of grass parting makes you turn, a hand flying to the hilt of the sword at your hip, but you drop it back to your side almost instantly. The young orc before you holds his hands out placatingly. 

“Apologies,” you say with a wry smile.

“None needed. The zikaegina is a wild place. An old place, is what my mahem tells me.” He is young, much younger than Steve. Perhaps one of the youngest in the entire pack. Bright, warm brown eyes crease at the corners as he grins at you boyishly, his short tusks gleaming. “But beautiful, also.” He gestures at the view. 

“It is,” you agree. “I thought… I thought when I looked upon it that it must never end,” you admit, and he chuckles. 

“All things have an end.” He says amusedly, returning his gaze to the sea. “I am Peter.” You tell him your name, and he repeats it in that matter-of-fact way that Steve had done, like he means to taste each syllable, though it doesn’t make the skin on the back of your neck prickle like it had when Steve had said it. If he were human, you might’ve placed Peter at twenty summers, perhaps two or three more at a push, but as he’s decidedly not, it is hard to tell. Your eyes stray to the string of rabbits tied at his  waist, and he looses a little laugh. 

“Ah, yes. I thought it important to hunt this morning.” He unties them from his waist, hoisting them up proudly. It is quite a good catch, they are all plump and fat, much larger than the one you’d managed to bring down, before your rather dumb luck with the stag. “Do you like them?”

His question takes you aback, and you squint at him confusedly. 

“I—I suppose? I know Carol and the others will surely appreciate the addition to the stores.” Peter shakes his head, frowning. 

“They are not for the stores.” He brandishes them again, and you see now that they are an offering. He presses them into your hands, smiling. “They are for you.” Your face heats. 

“I, er—why?” Your brows crease. “I’m sorry, I don’t think I understand.”  Peter’s brows knit together in confusion. His eyes drop to your throat, and the bewilderment in his eyes only grows. 

“You are unmated, are you not?” He asks, nervously rubbing his shoulder with the opposite hand. “I-I know many females prefer jewelry, but I thought perhaps the rabbits might be more pertinent…” He trails off awkwardly, and the nervous fluttering in your belly turns into full blown panic. 

Oh no.

“I, well, that is to say—” You sputter out nonsense, wringing your skirts in your hands. You admit the hope had blossomed within you that one day you might truly be seen as pack too, but it had not yet occurred to you that attraction might also follow suit. You lick your lips before trying again.

“I’m not, but I, well I don’t think this is—”

“I am a good warrior, strong.” He says confidently. “I will never fail to provide, this I vow.” You swallow thickly.

“I’m sure you are,” you say slowly. “But—I—there are certain things to—”

“What is going on here?” Steve’s voice is icy, and his stony expression is just as cold. His eyes flick down to the rabbits in your hand, and then back to Peter before narrowing. “You shouldn’t be off hunting alone.” It doesn’t sound like he’s speaking to everyone—just to you. The weight of his admonishment makes your cheeks burn. It does not help when Peter puffs his chest out, looking decidedly childish before Steve, standing half a head higher and two paces wider. 

“I am blooded, and a capable warrior. Twenty-two summers is more than old enough to take a mate. Maavuman usok. The gift is given.” Peter fixes Steve with a stubborn, challenging expression. 

“She does not understand our ways.” Steve’s frustration is palpable. “You would as well claim a youngling.” Your eyes narrow at the comparison even as your cheeks heat with embarrassment. While you can admit  to a certain lack of skill, you are certainly no child. 

“I am not a child.” You snap, and Steve’s deep answering laugh only stokes your ire.

“So you would take Peter as your own?” Steve raises an eyebrow. “From now till hereafter?” Cold fills your belly at his words, and you shake your head furiously.

“I—n-no,” The words escape your mouth in a clumsy stampede. “I just, I er, I’m not…” 

“You do not accept the gift?” Peter looks absolutely crestfallen, his brows knitting together. You’re tempted to ramble, to attempt to soften the blow of your rejection the way you’ve been taught to, but somehow you get the feeling that that will not translate particularly well. If these weeks with the pack have taught you anything, it is that Orcs appreciate blunt honesty. Excuses, on the other hand…

“No.” You wince. “I do not.” 

You fully expect Peter’s anger, but it does not come. Instead, he adopts a fierce expression, curling his hand into a fist before slamming it against his chest. 

“Then I will find a gift you will accept, promikun ni.” The smile that curls across his lips is cheeky. “Something worthy of you.” Peter is retreating back into the grass sea, his face a mask of determination before you can tell him not to. 

“Maker have mercy,” you mutter, pinching the bridge of your nose between your fingers. Steve chuckles derisively. 

“You would not take Peter as your mate, little human?” He asks amusedly as you wrinkle your nose. 

“He’s so…young,” you reply, still watching the place where the grass had closed around him. 

“A youngling in all but name. Barely blooded.” Steve’s lips curl back around his tusks with remembered irritation. “He has no business—” he stops himself abruptly, shaking his head. He seems more relaxed now, less frustrated. “No matter. It is finished, now.” 

“Surely there are those much more… suited in Tarrath?” You do not know why you so fiercely desire for him to know that the young Orc’s desires are unrequited, but you feel driven to do so. “Unless it is common in Orc culture to raid for one’s wife.” Steve’s laughter feels heavier somehow, as if weighted with knowledge only he is aware of. 

“Only sometimes, Sweetmeat. Only the very strongest.” Warm lead settles in your belly, though you will it not to.  “We will ride for Tarrath tomorrow.” You nod. Of course—this had been the destination all along. “I would much like it if you were to ride with me, Sweetmeat.” 

“A-at the front?” You ask incredulously, and he nods.

“Yes. I should much like to see your face when you look upon the Red City for the first time,” he replies, before hoisting the rabbits. You don’t miss the fleeting scowl as it crosses his lips. “I will give these to Carol.” He slings them across his broad shoulders, and turns on his heel. 

“Steve?” He pauses at the sound of his name. 

“Yes, Sweetmeat?”

“What is m-maa-mawvwuman usak?” You know the words are clumsy and incorrect in your mouth, but you try anyway. He licks his lips slowly, grinning. The bare skin of your arms prickles as gooseflesh spreads up them. 

“Maavuman usok.” Steve repeats it slowly, each syllable rolling from his tongue like drops of honey. “The mating promise.” The sticky lump in your throat feels nearly impossible to speak around.

“And prum—prum—”

“It means promised one.”  

to be continued…

Brave Masterlist

next chapter

[theelfsongbard]

Counterweight

Pairing: spawn!Astarion x AFAB!reader

Summary: after the epilogue, you and Astarion share a summer’s afternoon together in the meadow. For @oharahive’s breeding kink challenge!

Warnings: epilogue spoilers, breeding kink, mentions of potential future pregnancy

Word Count: 2273

Image source: https://www.pinterest.com.au/pin/760123243354175763/

These past 6 months have been the counterweight to 200 years of misery. Thank you.

He had said those words to you weeks ago, and from then, he had slowly been opening up more and more to you. More frank, more transparent with his feelings than ever before. Today, he is quiet again but you know his mind is anything but, still coming to terms with his grand adventure and the turn of fate that it has brought with it. All at once, he speaks up.

“You bring me the best happiness. You show me the way, where I cannot see and you give me love where I don’t always deserve it. I don’t know how you do it, but I will always be grateful for you.”

The summer breeze blows over the meadow, sifting over the long grass like a wave of verdant green. How lovely it is, to be here, to be loved. Astarion’s thoughts lazily drift as he rests his head in your lap, his eyes shut and sheltered from the sunlight by the wide canopy of an old oak. Slowly he breathes in, bringing cool air into lungs that no longer work. Things have changed drastically in the past 6 months, and now, despite his condition, he found himself flourishing and a free man.

Above him, your gentle humming stops though your hand in his hair continues to massage his scalp with just the right amount of pressure. “And I would give up anything to see you happy for all eternity without hesitation. Has last night’s party been on your mind, love? You’ve been introspective lately.”

“How can I help myself, darling? I can’t help but think about how things could’ve turned out so differently, and yet every iteration I think about, I cannot imagine myself being happier than I am now. You led me here and I… hate to think what life would be like without you being my guiding light. I’d be bitter, resentful, enslaved still by my own will or by Cazador. And I know that I was not always easy to love, but you stayed anyways when it would have been so easy to walk away.”

“You are worthy of love. I have chosen to love you because waking up to your smile every day and seeing you grow into who you are brings me joy. You are my home and my guide. The obstacles we faced together only strengthened our bond.”

Astarion cracks one vermillion eye open, a knowing smirk on his lips, “You like my smile? Why don’t you tell me more?” His voice deepens playfully as he drags you down to press some feather-light kisses on your mouth. This is his way of processing his feelings on complicated topics, as if he is afraid that wallowing in his thoughts any longer will eat him alive even though he has become less self-conscious about openly sharing his thoughts now.

You gasp in feigned scandalousness, “If I feed your ego too much, you might be too full of yourself for tonight’s dinner! I suppose you’ll just have to settle with knowing that you’re just lovely.” The way you giggle into his mouth sets something alight in him and he flips himself over, pinning you down into the grass below him, earning him a squeal of delighted surprise. This time, it’s your turn to lean up and capture his lips with her own, pulling a low rumbling chuckle from deep in his throat that vibrates through his chest and into hers where he presses against you. “Cheeky little thing aren't you?” the sound of his voice combined with the feeling of his arms caging you in makes your heart beat wildly in its ribcage. Nobody plays the game of seduction better than Astarion and the past 6 months together have only given him time to learn exactly what makes you tick.

“If you're worried about me being too full for dinner, I suppose I can always have dinner a little earlier, if you'll permit it. There's always room for dessert afterwards.” his lips graze tantalisingly over the exposed skin of your neck, his nose nuzzling the shell of your ear with care.

The ring of your laugh chimes like a bell on the wind, “Oh, just stop playing coy and come down for a bite then!”

You don’t need to ask twice before you feel his fangs probing for the blood beneath your skin before finally piercing into your neck, you grit your teeth and cling to his arms as he bears down. The feeling of pain never gets any better no matter how many times he feeds from you, but you have gotten used to the icy pricks and the ensuing numbness as he draws the blood from your body into his. It's his chest that warms first, followed by the healthy flush of life that fills his cheeks and… more intimate regions making itself known by the hardening desire pressed into your stomach.

Drunk on the fresh bouquet of your blood, Astarion laps his tongue against the puncture wounds at your neck, capturing the remnants of his dinner as it runs from the site. An appreciative moan pours from his throat, and when he pulls away at last, you can see that his eyes burn with fire and need. Feeding Astarion doesn’t always lead to sex, but the intimacy of the act makes it a very appealing activity for you both and today is one of those days.

“You know, I’ve been thinking about our future as well, what adventures it might hold for us both,” he kisses up your neck, tickling you and leaving you gasping for air as he teases. The only coherent word you can manage to utter is a shaky “yes?”.

“And I had the most interesting chat with Gale at the party.”

You frowned, wondering where on earth he was going with this. There was once a time when he and Gale weren’t on the best of terms with one another, not in the least because he was also competing for your affection when it was clearly already given to Astarion. Although time had mellowed out Astarion’s moodiness and dislike of the wizard, you couldn't help but think that perhaps it was jealousy that had stoked the fire of his appetite today.

“Oh? And what about him?” you squirmed about as his lips found your ear.

“It's nothing about him, but it is about us. You see, he was telling me about a guest lecturer he had at his school, a dhampir.”

Oh. Oh. So that was what was on his mind.

“Are you suggesting what I think you’re suggesting?” The implication hung there, tantalising. The idea of children wasn’t a topic that you had broached with Astarion. In all honesty, you had both had your hands full with other things; adventuring, searching for a cure to vampirism, working to rebuild the Underdark for the many spawn that had been released from Cazador’s manse. But now that he had mentioned it, your mind couldn't help but be filled with images of Astarion lovingly gazing down at a small fragile bundle close to his chest, swathed in cloth. Astarion smiling as he held out a finger clutched by tiny hands. Astarion cooing and stroking its cheek as it drifted into a trance, protected from the cruelty of the world by his love. “Astarion.” A familiar tingle of heat fills you and concentrates itself at your core as the thoughts suffocate the forefront of your mind until nothing else surfaces.

“Think of them reaching for us, seeking the comfort of our loving embrace, filling our home with joy in the mornings.” he breathes in wantonly, inhaling your intoxicating scent. You are fertile, and the tang of your blood on his tongue and the scent of it lets him know that your body is ready at its peak to receive a child if you should choose to do so. “I’m ready for a child, if you are, my love.” he breathes it like a promise against your mouth, forehead pressed to yours waiting for your answer.

“Yes. I am ready.” you respond in kind, kissing him earnestly. “Give me your child.”

Astarion’s ministrations grow as much as his enthusiasm. From where he is hovering above you, he growls with a hint of possessiveness and primal joy. The fact that you were willing was a promise of security, of having you by his side in the years to come with the knowledge that you loved him so much that you would choose to create something that would immortalise your expression of love for each other in flesh and bone and flowing blood.

You were his of your own choosing and he was yours. Would always choose you and stand by your side. The thought drives him mad and admist the attention that he lavishes on your lips, a hand snakes down your body, freeing your tucked shirt and undressing you with uncanny dexterity and speed fueled by his need to have you as his partner and his mate. Immediately. To press you down and fill you to the bursting with his essence until his seed overflowed in your womb and blessed you both with child.

His hand is distracted by the curve of your breasts, kneading them gently as he begins to move down your body to lick and suckle on them. The moans pouring from you only serve to heighten his own arousal and fill him with satisfaction as he plays you with all the expertise of a bard with a well-acquainted instrument. When he finally relieves you of your pants, he lovingly dips a finger along your folds, making you buck your hips up, collecting the slick and rubbing it against your clit, revelling in the way you’re already wet with desire for him causing a shiver to run through your body. “Excited, darling?” he dares to tease out with that high giggle of his. The heat in your cheeks only grows as you huff, “you don’t say. Please, don’t stop now.” you're so desperate for his touch, to feel him inside you.

He chuckles, “Only because you’re so desperate -“. He licks a long stripe up through them, but despite pretending otherwise, the hold you have on him is too great and inhumanly quickly, he scrambles back up, his knee hooking up under yours to open you up and pulling himself free from his trousers as he aligns himself with your entrance, coating himself in you before pushing in until he’s fully sheathed in your warm heat. The unexpected stretch rips a stifled yelp of pleasure from you and Astarion can’t help but moan in kind. “Don’t hide, let me hear you.”

Waiting until you’ve adjusted to him, he lifts your knees up to his shoulders, folding you over so that he can bury himself deeper inside. The new position brings you closer to the edge as he thrusts with increasing vigour, losing himself in the need to fill you up completely, imagining his seed taking and the swell of your belly bearing the evidence of your passion for everyone to see. “I want to see you dripping with my seed, fucked full until there’s no room left for anything else.”

“Then do it!” you just about screamed as he reached between you to rub on your clit. “Give it to me,” you sobbed, “until there’s nothing left to give.” the added pressure sent you tumbling over the edge, and your vision blacked out momentarily as your mind tried to catch up with your body, still spasming and twitching around his cock, milking him of all he had as he met his release with a shuddering roar, driving himself even deeper than he had before as he spent himself inside you. He doesn't move to pull out, keeping himself and his spend inside you do as long as possible and the intention of the action makes you clench slightly around his softening cock drawing a hiss from Astarion. “You want to go again, love?”

Catching your breath, from the exertion you couldn't help but drag him down to lay beside you, holding him close as you rest your head on his arm, nuzzling close to his neck and inhaling his comforting scent. It spells safety and tenderness that you know is only reserved for you. “Not right now, Astarion. I'm exhausted, but maybe we do it again another day,” you say with a laugh, “after all, if it doesn’t work this time, we’ll just have to keep on trying.”

“Well,” he says with a lazy kiss, “I’m very on board with your idea.”

“This is nice. This is really nice,” you whisper to him. “I just want to lay here with you forever.”

His hand snakes over to rest on your waist, the reassuring weight grounding you and the gentle press of his lips to your hair making your heart flutter. “Then let’s stay, for a little while longer at least. Close your eyes, darling.” Without even being able to see it, you can hear the smile on Astarion’s lips as he says it. You can’t help but feel a swell of contentment and pride at these moments of softness where so much was said with so few words.

You don't know how long you lay there in the field with Astarion, holding each other as the sun sank below the horizon but the next time you’re pulled from your trance, it’s the stars that watch over you as you anticipate the hopeful possibility of what might come to fruition.

[onskepa]

Stxeli: A friend? Suuuuure

Here is another chapter of the series! I wanted to have a cute filler during the midst of the arc. Lemme know what you guys think! Enjoy~!!

Stxeli series

--------------

“Easy on the shoulders, don't be too stiff when aiming at the target” Eytukan patiently instructs the younger children. They were young, some around and older stxeli’s age. Normally tsu’tey would be incharge of teaching the little ones, but he has his own group just about ready to go through the finale stages of iknimaya. Eyutukan has no heart in distracting his best warrior with some less important task. 

Not only that, but as olo’eyktan, its his duty to ensure the new generation the ways of their life. They are learning and mistakes are bound to happen. Eytukan is patient. Not everyone is born already knowing things.Besides, it makes him happy to know his people flourish and find comfort that the future is safe. 

“Sempu!” stxeli shouts happily as she and a few young girls and adult women arrive bringing food to the young boys. Eytukan calls for a break, and the boys happily go to their mothers or sisters and enjoy a mid day meal. 

Eytukan takes his daughter into his arms and hugs her. She giggles happily, his daughter shows him his meal. 

“Sa’nu made it extra yummy for you,” she says. 

“Then I shall appreciate her craft with every bite” eytukan accepts. Sitting down together, they both started to eat and chatted a bit. 

“Sa’nu is cooking tonight, she is going to teach me how to cook smoked yerik meat” stxeli happily says as she swings her legs back and forth. 

“It will turn out delicious” eytukan encourages. His little girl, growing up so fast. Already learning the family recipes. Perhaps one day she will craft her own tasty meal and present it to the family. All was good until someone walked forward. 

“Olo’eytkan, stxeli” 

Kame. Young boy, only 1 year older than stxeli. While not the strongest in his training group, kame is growing rapidly and learns very fast. He is patient and helps his fellow brethren who are slower or struggling with something. He is like a peaceful, more nicer version of tsu’tey. Perhaps after a few more trainings, eytukan might pass the word to tsu’tey. See what he thinks. 

But right now, eytukan has a bigger problem. 

“Speak boy, is something wrong?” he asks. Kame shakes his head, smiling softly. 

“No sir, I have something for stxeli, a gift” 

“I dont like him” 

“He is just a child” 

“So is stxeli” 

“It was an innocent act” 

“No, he knew what he was doing” 

“They barely knew each other” 

“That is how everyone starts off” 

Mo’at was fixing eytukan’s headpiece as he angrily paced back and forth. The tsahik had neytiri take stxeli to her hammock while their parents chat more privately. Hours ago kame gifted stxeli a few flowers that she was specifically looking for. The young girl was so happy and grateful, she hugged Kame and offered half of her meal to him. This did not set well with eytukan. 

“I will teach stxeli how to climb better” he states. 

“My love, even the best struggle to reach those flowers. To know kame managed, he is on his way to be a mighty warrior, any lady would be lucky to have him in the future” mo’at comments. 

[stxeli might be the lucky one..] she thought. Better to not share with her mate. His heart might give up. 

Getting up, she goes over to calm him. Having their eyes meet. 

“Mawey eytukan, they are children-”

“No for long-”

“Sssshhhhh…..they are children. They might grow to be friends. Kame is a young boy with potential, perhaps there will be nothing between them. Only mutual friendship. So please, ease your heart” 

Eywa hears this, too bad she has other plans. 

“Stxeli, I brought more flowers for you” kame announces the next morning. Stxeli was trying up her mother’s healing tent when he entered. Holding a basket full of freshly picked flowers. Light blue tiny flowers. Perfect. 

“Thank you kame, come come, let me give you something” she says. Kame puts the basket aside as he watches what stxeli will do. The young girl grabs a gourd, large compared to her size. Grabbing a bowl, she pours a pinkish liquid while releasing a divine familiar smell. 

“Here, have a sip” stxeli offers the bowl to kame who gladly accepts. Taking a sip, he savors the taste. 

“Is this yovo fruit? It tastes like it's mixed with something else…” he comments. Stxeli shakes her head. 

“Yes! Its yovo fruit mixed with the nectar of the flowers. It's super yummy and it helps boost your energy!” 

Kame looks at stxeli in awe. Admiring her creativity. He drinks some more, perhaps he should bring more flowers to her. 

“What is that?” eytukan asks his little girl. 

It was dinner time, the whole family was together along with tsu’tey. They were eating calmly until the olo’eyktan noticed something new. Stxeli was wearing a bracelet decorated with certain flowers. 

Mo’at lifts her daughter's wrist to admire the new piece. 

“Isn't it pretty? Kame made it for me with the flowers he brought” stxeli said innocently. Unknownst to her, it raises alarms for three blue heads. 

“Who is kame?” Tsu'tey asks. 

Stxeli is all too happy to answer, “he is training under sempu with other kids. I go bring food to sempu, and kame comes to give me pretty flowers. I made yummy yovo juice and mixed the flower nectar. It tastes so yummy, kame tried it! He liked it too! So as a thank you, he made me this bracelet. I love it so much, I'm never ever taking it off! Kame is so cool!” 

Every word she spoke, every praise she gave to kame, it brought anger to her father, sister, and now her brother figure, tsu’tey. 

Mo’at notices it and smiles. 

“He seems to be a wonderful boy ma’ite” 

Eytukan gave her a look, knowing damn well what she is doing. 

Stxeli’s eyes sparkle at her mothers comment. 

“He is sa’nu! He is so kind, strong, and tall! And kame already knows….” 

Neytiri is very protective of her baby sister. She knows that, her parents know that, everyone knows that. Tsu’tey is no different either. They both care for stxeli very much, spoil her even. But its all out of love. They always imagined stxeli would grow happy, strong, and fulfilling any dream she desires. 

Yet they forget, stxeli is growing and one day will become a woman. 

Once she is of age, she will be eligible to find someone suitable. 

Everyone in the family hopes it will never happen. Too far into the future to worry about that. 

Except, Kame has entered the fray.

“I'm with father, this kame boy is getting too close to stxeli” neytiri tells tsu’tey as they both were training their students. Tsu’tey hums in agreement. They have their hands full already. Eytukan is busy and mo’at can only hold her baby close to her for a certain time before stxeli gets bored. 

“We can forbid the boy from seeing stxeli” tsu’tey suggest. 

Neytiri shakes her head, “no, it would be unfair and an abuse of our position. We already restricted stxeli as well” 

They dont want to hurt the children's feelings but they also dont want the two getting closer. 

“I will personally see how the boy is fairing in the olo’eyktans training. If he is good as stxeli….praises. I can always suggest I train him personally” tsu’tey offers. 

“If he goes with you….then that would be less time for stxeli to see him” neytiri was seeing the benefits. She nods and set the plan in motion. 

Mo’at quickly took notice of stxeli’s change of mood. The past few days she was sulking and looked down. 

“Ma’ite, what has soured your face?” she asks. Holding her child on her lap, braiding her hair. Stxeli sighs. 

“I haven't seen kame as often as I used too…he is now training with tsu’tey and doesnt have time to see me anymore” 

Mo’at tilts her head. 

“Was he training under your sempu?” she questions. Stxeli nods. 

“Yes, but tsu’tey saw how good kame was doing and thought it would be better if kame trained under him. Its good but…I miss him…” 

Stxeli stares at her flower bracelet with longing. Mo’at wanted to figure something out first. 

“Why do you like kame? Is it because of the flowers he gives you?” mo’at wonders. 

Stxeli sits up straight, facing her mother, “its more than that…a few weeks ago…”

A few weeks ago 

“Dumb demon, dumb stupid hair, ugly sky demon!” stxeli grunts in anger as she kicks some rocks aside. Everyday her hate for jakesuli grows, because of him, neytiri is spending less time with stxeli. They usually take strolls in the forest, practice archery, or look for materials to paint. But now they hardly do that. All thanks to that ugly demon and his fat nose. 

Grabbing a bigger rock, stxeli throws it far out aimlessly. 

“OW!” 

A voice in pain shouted. 

Stxeli gasps, instantly regretting what she did. Hurriedly she ran to where she hard the voice. Moving plants and bushes out of her way, she found a young boy with a bleeding head. 

“Oh eywa! I'm so sorry!! H-here let me help!!” 

Quickly stxeli pulls out her aid bag and pulls out herbs and other healing materials. 

“That was a good aim, haha-ow!” the boy groaned in pain. Holding the wound by adding pressure, a small streak of blood fell aside from his face. 

“Don't talk, here let me see” stxeli gently moves the boy’s hand away to observe the wound. Luckily it wasn't that deep or serious, but it did require to be bandaged. So she grabs her small water container and a skin rag to damp it. 

“This is going to sting…” stxeli warns. 

Gently pressing onto the wound, she starts to clean it. The boy lightly hisses in pain. Grabbing the boys hand, “here, keep the rag like this, dont press it too hard” she instructs. 

Stxeli quickly made a healing paste by crushing herbs and using a bit of water. Training under her mother made her an expert already. Grabbing some large leaves nearby, she begins to bandage the wound. 

“The paste is a bit stinky but it will help with your wound” stxeli says. 

The boy nods. 

Stxeli puts her stuff away and sits in front of the boy. 

“Again, Im so so so sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you, I was just too angry” she apologizes. The boy shakes his head slightly, a bright grin growing on his face. 

“Thats ok, even if you didnt mean it, it was good. You got strong arms” he compliments. Stxeli giggles at that. 

“I guess so” 

“Im kame by the way” the boy introduces himself. 

“Stxeli” 

“He is really nice sa’nu….he is a good person and funny. Its like he can read my mind and make me laugh” stxeli tells. Mo’at smiles after hearing how her baby met kame. 

“Well, when your sempu comes, I will talk to him. It seems training too much for the boy is not good for him” mo’at says. 

And its true, while its good to raise future warriors, its also important to let him be a kid. While she already likes how kame is in stxeli’s eyes, its too soon to conclude anything. And that is a mistake her mate and child are doing. 

She must correct it before it makes stxeli even sadder. However, mo’at has an idea that will work with not just eytukan, but with neytiri and tsu’tey as well. 

“Hello ma’ite” 

“.......” 

“Stxeli…?” 

“Stxeli, its rude to ignore sempu” 

“............” 

“Stxeli you are not an infant, dont be silent” 

“..........................................................................................” 

Eytukan, neytiri and tsu’tey were looking at stxeli in extreme confusion. There she was sitting down, doing her own think while ignoring the three. As if they are not even there. Mo’at chuckles as she walkes towards them. 

“What is amusing mother? Stxeli is ignoring us?” neytiri says. 

Mo’at pats her daughters shoulder, “stxeli has decide to give you all her silent treatment” 

The three were even more confused. 

“I am not dumb, I know what you three are doing. Having kame and stxeli spend less time with eachother. Will our little one won't have it. Until you allow them to meet again, stxeli will no speak or see either of you” mo’at announces. 

This made the three adults drop their jaws. 

Stxeli ignoring them? No more hellos? Hugs? Kisses? 

“H-how long…?” eytukan asks. 

“Until stxeli can spend time with kame again” mo’at answers easily. 

“Never” neytiri growls a bit. 

“Then suffer in her eternal silence” 

The three adults didn't last 20 minutes before they gave up. 

Aaaaaaaaaaand that concludes for this chapter! Whatchu guys think of kame? Who was right in this matter? should stxeli and kame be friends? or more in the future? Lemme know what you guys think! Until next time! see ya!

Liking the series? Click here to put your name in the taglist!

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[melanieph321]

Ruben Dias x Reader - City Girls Part 4/8

Yeah, this chapter is not for the kids 😮‍💨

18++

Reader plays for the Man City girls academy. She struggles a bit but gets Ruben to mentor her. The the two don't hit off despite having many things in common. It all gets worse when Reader eventually catches feelings for Ruben.

Enjoy!

You've done well in training, well enough for coach to let you travel with the first team to their away game in London. If there is one thing you've gotten in bedded in your head from training with Ruben, it would be to "play with your mind." He would shout this at you every time you tried to dribble, or dribble when a pass could be made instead.

"Play with your mind, Y/N."

It was during the last minute's of Manchester City's fixture against Chelsea when their coach called you up from the bench. It was unexpected, terrifying even. But when an opportunity presents itself you take it.

"Play with your mind." You mumbled, as you ran down the field like your life depended on it. A pass was made and suddenly the ball was at your feet. You charged towards the Chelsea defenders, sweping past one without challenging the others. With a late pass to another charging City girl you managed to assist your first Super League goal whilst taking a knee to the side of your body. A price you were willing to pay for more moments like that.

"You should have seen me Ruben, I was amazing."

Despite it being a Friday night, Ruben had been more than willing to train you. "You shouldn't have charged the defender." He said. Raining on your parade.

"I got knocked down, so what? Isn't that what football is about, sacrifice?"

"You call getting injured and missing games sacrifice? I say it was a selfish move against your own teammates."

"Whatever." You scuffed.

You didn't expect anything less from Ruben. What you had gathered from spending more time with him was that he was uptight and practical beyond what was necessary. However, he did help you collect the balls at the end of every training session and for that you were grateful.

"Some of the girls invited me to celebrate the win with them, you should come." You said.

"You're going out? Tonight?" Ruben grabbed a ball, dumping it in the bag you held. He wore a skeptical look on his face, judging you.

"Just for a few drinks." You shrugged. "I thought it'd be good. Who knows, if I get cozy with the first team coach might let me play with them more?"

"Y/N, you're rated based on your performance, not your ability to socialize. Besides, you should be recovering from a game not to risk future injuries."

"Well, how do I do that?"

You tied a knot on the ball bag, letting Ruben carry it for you.

"Recover?" He frowned.

"Yes?"

Normally you'd consider a goodnight sleep the best way to recover, however, Ruben thought otherwise. "Hydration is most important, preferably water. And you must eat somthing, not less than forty-five minutes after you've exercised."

It was strange, being invited to Ruben's  apartment on a friday night. It was big. You stood in his kitchen, his dining table overflowing with healthy nutrients. The two of you were quite comfortable with each other by now, and Ruben was nothing short of a gentleman around you.

"I've prepared the heating pod to help with your blood circulation and then you can continue recovering in my message chair."

It was a passion of his, you could tell from the way he was explaining everything to you, like he really wanted you to learn.

"But first we eat?" You said hopefully.

Ruben blushed realizing that he was getting a bit carried away. "Yes, first we eat. Could you grab that jar for me?"

"Sure."

You reached up, the jar of pasta within your reach. Just as you grasped it with your fingers, a sharp pain shot through the side of your body.

"Y/N, you okay?" Ruben rushed to your side, seeing how you winced.

"My ribs." You groand.

"Let me see."

His arms grabbed your shoulders, helping you stand up straight. Your fingers trembled trying to raise your shirt, the pain too sharp.

"May I?"

Ruben asked for consent to help you. You nodded, letting him roll up the hemn of your top.

"Fuck."

You didn't need to look down to know that it was bad, Ruben's reaction said it all. He looked to you. "Ice bath, now."

Your body shivered in the cold water. Ruben had you sit in it for eight minutes, a timer going off when it was time for you to rise.

"Y/N, you alright?"

There was a light knock on the door, Ruben's voice heard on the other end.

"Yeah, I think I'm good."

"Um...I brought some clothes."

You wrapped a towel around yourself, moving to open the bathroom door. Ruben appeared in the frame. "It's just a t-shirt but it's big enough to cover..." He coughed. "....you know."

"Thank you Ruben, the t-shirt is fine." You moved to shut the door but Ruben's arm appeared in the gap. "I um....I also brought some ointment."

"Oh."

"For the pain." He said, offering you the bottle.

"Thanks Ruben, really. I just don't think..."

"What's wrong?" He frowned.

You shook your head, seeing how worried he became. "It's nothing, really Ruben. It's just that..."

"Y/N, please. If there's somthing I can do."

"Well..." You closed your eyes and sighed. "It hurts too much to lift my arms, so you're gonna have to help me apply the ointment."

Ruben froze.

"Of course, If you're not comfortable..."

"No." He protested. "only if.....you don't mind me helping you?"

Heat rose to your face, realizing what you were asking of him. Either way you nodded. "I'll be right out."

It was awkward, so fucking awkward. You stepped out of the bathroom wearing Ruben's t-shirt. It was shorter than you had expected, cutting just above your knees. Ruben sat on the edge of the living room couch, raising his head when you approached. His hair sprouted upwards as if he had compulsively been running his hands through it. "Shall we begin?" You immediately regretted uttering those words. Ruben looked unsure weather to sit or stand so he let you decide as you stepped up to him, letting him raise your shirt until he could see the bruise on your ribs. Your legs tremble beneath you, the draft between your legs not making things easier for you.

"Is this okay?"

Ruben scooped some ointment out of the bottle, applying it to you skin. He was gentle with his touch, easing up on the pressure if his movements made you wince.

"Ruben, I'm so sorry that I..."

"Sshh." He hushed. "It's okay, I agreed to it."

"Yes but..." It was really awkward, not to mention the tempting weight you felt in the pit of your stomach.

"It's okay Y/N, I'm almost done."

"Okay."

He kept his eyes above your waist, despite you practically offering him a view of the shape of you. Your legs, your thighs...your ass. He looked so focused, eyebrows furrowed and one hand held flat against  your lower back to prevent you from moving as he applied the ointment. It was strange, being taller then him for once.

"I could have challenged that defender." You said, still thinking of the game. "If I was stronge enough."

Ruben grunted. "It's why you don't see as much dribbling in the Super League or female football in general."

"What do you mean?" You frowned.

"Well, defenders are usually the fittest players on the field. They're supposed to be. But the rest of the players..."

"Ruben are you saying women aren't capable of dribblin because weren't strong enough?" An outrageous opinion, to you.

"No, not dribbling." Ruben raised his head, his chin caressing your abs. "Dribbling is easy for men and women, but getting past a defender one on one is different and not recommended in women's football. I'm sure that's why you can't get your coach off your ass. To him, passing the ball would the most efficient way to get past another teams defense."

"So you're saying there's a chance coach will let me play football the way that I want?"

Ruben chuckled. "If your willing to gain a few pounds, sure."

You frowned. The idea of gaining weight was not that appealing to you.

"I meant pounds of muscles, Y/N. Not fat." He read you like an open book. You looked down and smiled. Ruben was done applying the ointment. His hands now caressing the back of your knees, slowly, moving up and down.

"I should probably call Ester, tell her to come pick me up?"

Ruben shrugged. "Or you could stay the night?"

"Ruben."

"If you want."

He pushed you forwards, his hands moving from your legs to your ass. You gasped as his nose nudged your belly. The nerves along your spine came to life, raising the hair on your arms.

Ruben looked up, eyes drowsy. "Can I kiss you?"

"Please, yes."

You were practically begging for it, for Ruben to touch you, pleasure you anywhere that ached. He pulled you forwards his face nuzzling against his t-shirt. "You smell good."

You smiled. "I smell like you."

It felt like unfamiliar territory, a man in awe of your body, his hands moving all over you.

"Is this okay?"

"Yes."

Ruben had gone to raise your shirt again,  serenading any exposed skin with lingering kisses.

"You have to tell me if you're not comfortable with what I'm doing."

"Ruben." You raised his head, cupping his face between your hands, his rough beared between your fingers. "I want this." You nodded, not sure if you've ever wanted anything else this bad. Ruben's eyes burned in the dimmed light. "But you're hurt." He said, arms wrapping around your body, craving something that he couldn't have. Forbidden fruit.

"Fuck me with your mouth then."

Ruben looked up, his eyes batting in suprise. You met his gaze, biting your lip.

"I'm sure."

It's all he needed to hear. Ruben's hands suddenly become less gentle. They had previously moved around the area where it ached the most, but with your permission he slid a hand up your thighs, not stopping until you drew a sharp breath.

"Yes, baby. That's the spot isn't it?"

It was filthy. Whatever was unraveling between you seemed forbidden, meant to be kept behind close doors.

"Y/N, say you want this."

"I want this."

Ruben slid fingers between your folds, moving to please the aching burn that had its epicentrum at the tip of your clit.

"Tell me what to do?" He demanded, his hand not rubbing you fast enough.

"Please, fuck me Ruben."

"Fuck you how?"

You threw your head back, the pleasure immense. "Fuck me with your mouth."

It was wet and warm. Ruben's head tilted in search for your opening. Your panties had already been pushed to the side, revealing the part of you that needed his attention the most. "Yes." Your cried, almost loosing your footing to the pleasure that shot through your body, head to toe. "Yes, Ruben, just like that."

He groaned below you, his tongue helping himself to all you had to offer.

"Fuck."

Your hands went to his hair, your eyes squinting shut. Ruben had covered your clit with his mouth, gathering it between his wet lips, sucking you dry.

"Please Ruben, I'm gonna...."

It sent you over the edge, that and Ruben's rough hands reaching under your shirt, rolling your stiff nipples between his fingers.

"Yes." You cried out. Melting into a puddle of nothing as you climaxed. Ruben caught you in his arms, immediately climbing on top of you as he layed you back against his couch.

"I want to fuck you so bad right now, but I can't because you're hurt."

"No." You whimpered, your thighs wrapping around his stem, the bulge in his pants putting pressure against your sensitive pussy. "Yes, like that. Fuck me just like that."

"You sure." Ruben paused all movment, raising his head to look at you.

"I'm sure Ruben, please keep..."

You could say no more. Your shirt came off, tossed aside. Ruben then lowered his hips against yours, his hard erection aligning between your thighs. The friction between you wet pussy and his jeans would be enough to send both over the edge. And so he began, dry humping you like a horny dog.

"Please Ruben, harder and faster." You clung to him, locking your legs around his hips. Ruben groaned, his body trembling like yours. "Fuck Y/N, I don't want to hurt you."

"Por favor, Ruben, me machuque." (Please  Ruben, hurt me.)

He continued to hold back, sucking your nipples to slightly increase the pleasure. You were horny enough to be satisfied with what he was already doing to you.

"Ruben, I'm gonna...again."

Your head fell back against cuchens, mouth open, eyes rolling back in your sockets. Ruben himself moaned into the crease of your neck, with one last thrust ejaculating his load into his pants. You were both out of breath laying on top of each other, coming down from the high together. Ruben sat up once the mist of sex seized to linger. He ran a anxious hand down his face, looking less than pleased with himself. You felt strange too, a sudden need to put your panties back on. However, Ruben rose to his feet, towering over you.

"This can never happen again."

He picked up your shirt from the floor, tossing it your way. The expression on his face said it all, it was obvious regret.

"I'm calling a cab. You need to leave."

[hyggetrait]

hi there,

I’m glad you’ve stopped by to read this little note. I have quite a few updates to share. some good, some not so good. but short summary is, I’m happy, healthy, and building! This is a little long, so I apologize. I’ve tried to organize my thoughts as best as I could below.

First, thank you

I’m still flabbergasted that over 3000 of you have pressed that follow button. even crazier when I think about the fact that I’ve only posted less than 50 posts. I feel like I’ve gotten the better end of that deal but I promise to be more present. thank you for following me despite my lack of uploads, thank you for liking, reposting, commenting, and just being so kind. you’re all such a wonderful supportive community.

happy life update

Earlier this year my company downsized significantly and many near and dear people to me were let go. on top of that, a lot of work was piled on to me, so I had to prioritize offline life for a bit. the good thing is, after a crazy couple of months I was able to take time off for some much needed r&r, and as part of that break, I got to go to France to visit some family, enjoy some good food and sip on some delicious wine. but most importantly, i made some wonderful memories with my now fiancé! (surprise!) I’m still letting all soak in but we’re so happy for what the future holds.

now with the personal update out of the way, onto the sims ;

gameplay

I’m so sad to share that the save file with all of my wip was corrupted. thankfully I was able to salvage some builds because I saved to my gallery, but others are forever gone. sadly, the house I built for my growing together family and my tartosa town were collateral. I have an earlier iteration saved of the tartosa town but a lot of my progress is lost. I’m still heartbroken as I had worked so hard on them both, but I promise when inspiration strikes again I’ll try to complete the tartosa town.

the good news is, I’ve started building again. smaller lots these times and boy am I grateful for that. I even started a new house for my growing together household. I have one build I’ll be sharing in the coming days and two more that are nearly done. they are all in brindleton bay, inspired by nantucket and cape cod. think of it as a mini series if you will. I can’t wait to share more!

tray files and downloads

a lot of people have been asking for a while for my tray files. I apologize for the long wait, but I’m finally working on it and I’ll be setting up a free patreon for you guys to easily download!

and that’s all. I’m working on some new formatting/graphics for my future posts, it might change a few times while I figure it out but I hope it’s worth it. Thank you for sticking around, for reading my little note, and for supporting my creations!

see you soon,

nicole 💕

[after-witch]

That Great Triumphal Arch [Yandere Sephiroth x Reader]

Title: That Great Triumphal Arch [Yandere Sephiroth x Reader]

Synopsis: Sephiroth took you. And now all you know is pain. FF7R-verse. 

Word count: 2096

notes: yandere, kidnapped reader, physical abuse and violence, noncon and sexual abuse, unwanted pregnancy for reader

You’ve been hurt before. You’re not some dainty thing, kept in a tower all your life.  You knew the streets. There were arms broken in alley tussles, noses bloodied through a drunken bar fight, and lately--far more lately--cuts from blades and the edges of Turk bullets and all those aching wounds that come with willingly signing up for a fight far bigger than yourself. You were under no illusions, when you joined with Cloud, what might lie ahead.

Though perhaps, being kidnapped by Sephiroth was not in your visions for the Could Happen in the Future. Getting hurt, yes. Being wrapped up in some insane plot to save the world, sure. 

Being targeted by Sephiroth? Not so much. 

Yet it happened. It happened so fast that if you were asked to recall the specific details, you couldn’t say. You remember the blow to your stomach, the blow to your head. You remember looking up and seeing Sephiroth staring down at you, a smile on his face, the grayness of your vision blurring with the glimmering silver of his hair. You remember, or at least you hope it’s a memory and not just something you imagined, hearing Tifa shout out something, hearing the clash of blades. 

But then there was nothing but grayness and fog and an awful, dreamless sleep. 

When you woke up, he was there.

Smiling.

Speaking words that felt like black tar in your ear. How you were his. How you were a gift. How you were meant to be there.

And he hurt you.

So, so much.

He hasn’t stopped.

The pain is relentless, fresh, raw. You can’t get used to it, not like you might eventually get used to the ache from a broken rib from a single ill-timed bar brawl. It’s ever-changing, day by day. 

Maybe that is why it’s taken you out so completely over the past few days (and just how long has he had you, in all?); got you weak and speechless, barely able to breathe much less think much less fight back much less--

“You’re beautiful, you know.”

The voice from above you is grating to your ears, like gravel being rubbed right into your bleeding, sore kneecaps. You’ve heard that damned voice so often lately, and sometimes you swear--you swear--that his lips aren’t moving when he speaks.

But why is he above you, again? You remember him hitting you this morning, you remember the kick that broke your ribs. You remember spitting in his face. And then, quite clearly, you remember the tip of his sword puncturing right through your wrist, leaving an almost disgustingly clean wound behind.

That was the last clear memory before all this.

So why is he above you, hair almost shimmering, eyes bright and piercing--what is that sensation, that awful, awful sensation? Like being pierced from the inside out. 

“Beautiful… when you’re bleeding for me.” His voice is just a little breathy. A practiced sound, you think, because he doesn’t break so much as a sweat when he spends hours hurting you. It’s not like sex was going to knock the wind out of him, like his boot connecting solidly with your stomach once or twice or umpteen times did to you so readily.

Unwillingly, reality finally comes back to you, sore and sticky and painful, with his gloved hand tapping at your cheek; with the realization that he’s inside you, again, thick and intruding and insistent. It’s like a drum beat in your lower body, a rhythm you’ve come to understand after all this time--and it makes you feel sick, still, no matter how familiar it’s become. 

A gloved thumb runs along your lower lip, catching on a scab healing over. 

“Everything you do is for me… bleeding… breathing… your very existence.” There’s a sticky coolness to his voice that makes you want to peel your skin off even more than the ever-present sensation of his body above yours. 

His voice continues, no matter how much you wish it would not. 

“When will you come to accept that?”

You ignore the content of his words (you so often do, when you can get away with it) and merely squint your eyes, desperate to make sense of things despite your aching body. But you still can’t tell. 

Did his lips move… or not?

His thumb presses down on the scab. And it’s such a small pain, really, compared to what you’ve been through. But you groan nonetheless, and squeeze your eyes shut to block out the stinging sensation spreading across your mouth.

“Answer me, and I may grant you mercy.”

You laugh, or at least you think it’s a laugh. A hoarse stuttering sound that wheezes out of your used and abused chest. In response, he thrusts harder, and your fingers curl on the sheets underneath you, desperate to gain purchase.

Above you (and inside you)-- there are signs that he is human, that he is not some infallible granite creature. Sweat on his naked chest. The movement of his hair, tickling your skin, as he begins to thrust quickly enough to signify his end. 

A soft, low sound as he pushes inside you so deeply that it hurts, and then warmth--a burning warmth that shouldn’t feel like it does, stinging and slick. Is it because he’s fucked you so often, creating tears? Or is there something wrong with him, to make his seed more unpleasant? Or--the thought comes, unbidden, awful--something wrong with you? 

His gloved hand taps your cheek again. It’s like being chided by a friend for dropping off in the middle of a conversation, but nowhere near as lighthearted. 

“Where did you go, I wonder?” 

You can’t answer him right away. Not without sacrificing dignity. So you keep your mouth shut and wait until your breath isn’t coming in so hard, and your heart rate has regained some sense of normalcy. 

You look straight at him, at the eyes that seem to glow from within now, something awful inside them. You wait until he’s raised an eyebrow, just a little, a sign that he’s expecting you to speak.

And you do.

“I’ll never accept whatever delusion you’ve created about me.” 

Yes, your voice is tired and hardly filled with the bravado you might have spoken with before he took you. But at least you got the words out. At least you know you spoke them with your own damn mouth.

His thumb returns to trailing gently on your lips. Almost soft, almost kind.

“But you’ve already accepted so much…” 

You don’t ask what he means, exactly. 

Later on, you’ll wish you had.

--

Your head lolls side to side. The pillow underneath, damp with your sweat, does nothing to ease your discomfort or the gnawing ache inside your chest. 

“Do you really think they’ll come for you?”

Yes, you want to say. They are my friends. We would never give up on one another. But you press your lips tight. 

“Don’t you know how long it’s been? How far they’ve traveled? They haven’t even tried to retrieve you.”

He’s lying. They would never just give you up, let you stay in his clutches. If they traveled, it was out of necessity, to find help or create a plan or get a better vantage point. Yes, that would be it. He’s… lying. Isn’t he? 

“They’re concerned with far greater things than you, aren’t they? Do you think they’ll choose you over this world’s pretended sanctity?” 

Yes, you want to say. Yes, yes, yes! But even you can’t pretend that wouldn’t be a bold, ridiculous lie. One life--or the world? Even if it was you… Even if it meant you were trapped here, with Sephiroth.

His voice continues to drip honeyed poison straight into your ears--straight into your mind. Soft whispers in the dark, over and over, reminding you, taunting you, telling you things that you must surely admit (deep, deep, deep down) are likely the truth. 

But he can’t be doing this to you. It’s impossible. Because he’s not speaking. You’re staring right at him, right at his detestable face, a face you could now describe with uncanny certainty… and his lips are not moving.

You weren’t sure, before; you’d wondered at the way his whispers seemed to squirm right into your ears, no matter how far away he was or how fuzzy your vision got from pain. 

You let out a confused groan that covers up whatever vile thing he blows into your ear next, though it doesn’t stop the awful sensation that comes with hearing him inside your skull. 

“I don’t understand.” You practically moan the words out, like a sick child on a feverbed. The damp sheets and your clenching fingers, rubbing the sheets raw, are much the same. “How are you doing this?”

“Oh, darling.” He says--but doesn’t say--as his hand skims down your chest and rests on your stomach. The feel of the leather is cold and harsh, like a ragged seam dragging down your skin.  “Don’t you know?”

You don’t know. You don’t know what he means, or why he’s doing this, or how the fuck he’s talking inside your head.

His hand doesn’t move, exactly, but presses down in a remarkably gentle gesture.

“Don’t you know what I’ve put inside you?”

There’s a terrible, long moment where the world drops out from underneath you. And then you’re back above with no air in your lungs, because you’ve screamed--you didn’t even know it.

He stares down at you with a patient smile until your breathing comes back, ragged and uneven.

“You’re lying.” Hot tears prick at your eyes, because you’re not stupid and you know what he means now, and you know that it’s the awful truth. You can deny a lot of things (and have done so at every opportunity) but this? This was real. It was sick and real. 

“I never lie to you,” he says, lips still unmoving. 

You know. You know. The calmness in his tone terrifies you more than any of his sweet poisons, than any of his bruising grips or swift strikes to your vulnerable body. 

“It’s remarkable, what her cells can do. And you took to them so quickly.” His smile has an almost edge of ecstasy to it that turns your insides sour. “It’s destiny. Even you must admit that.”

You think the word “no” comes out, but you can’t be sure you actually said it. Maybe you’re talking without opening your mouth now, too. Maybe you’re losing it, like frayed edges of an old blanket, just waiting to be pulled out. 

Sephiroth, if he notices your growing inner hysteria, chooses to ignore it. Instead, he leans down, taking a moment to rest his cheek against yours. He inhales softly through his nose.

“I thought you were at your most beautiful before, but this?” The hand on  your stomach trails up until he’s grasping your chin, keeping you in place. “This might be preferable…”

“Stop.” The words come out soft and perhaps pitiable to anyone but the man above you. 

He doesn’t even acknowledge them. Maybe you didn’t say them at all. 

There’s something determined in his eyes now, as he stares down at you. You’re almost afraid to find out what it is. 

“Mother has given me two gifts,” he says, softly, with reverence. “And I now will prove myself all the more worthy to her.”

He leans down and presses a kiss to your lips. It could be chaste, if anything Sephiroth ever did might ever be called that. The kiss tastes of his breath and your own tangy blood. 

This time, when he speaks, his lips move--cruel and hot against your own.

“Do you think Cloud will be able to look you in the eye, once he knows what’s inside you?”

Hot tears slide down your cheeks and join the sweat already dampening the pillowcase. 

His hand returns to your belly, cupping the skin there. There is warmth--he’s removed his gloves now--and the sensation makes you shudder. 

“Do you think you can belong to anyone but me now?”

This time, his lips don’t move.