#keep in mind this is just what i've found so far!

[yeetmeoutthewindowdaddy]

A deep dive into Zevlor's devotion (Part 3) Zevlor's actions during Act 1, an analysis of a man who is barely holding on:

THIS POST CONTAINS SPOILERS FOR BG3.

These series of posts were originally one loooooong post— but apparently Tumblr has a character limit, and I found it; so now it's been split into several parts/posts.

(Part 1) Everybody hates tieflings, and how discrimination impacted a young Zevlor.

(Part 2) Elturel's history and culture, the Hellriders, and Zevlor's paladin oath. (Part 2.5)

((Part 3, this post, is where the meat a good chunk of my Zevlor analysis is.))

(Part 4) Zevlor's actions during Act 2, an analysis of a broken man.

(Part 5) Zevlor's actions during Act 3, an analysis of a man with his faith restored.

(Part 6) Zevlor's actions during/ after the epilogue, not all endings are happily ever after— especially not for a tiefling.

(Part 7) Zevlor in a romantic relationship.

I don't think many bg3 players understand just how dedicated and loyal of a person Zevlor is. This ADHD hyper-fixation fueled multipart-thesis is meant to show how Zevlor's past is as tragic as any of the origin characters'/ Durge's. It's meant to show how horrifically broken Zevlor was when he "betrayed" the other tieflings. It's also meant to show that our beloved blorbo would probably be fervently obsessive if he was in a romantic relationship.

Most importantly: It demonstrates how our favorite man Zevlor was most likely a fanatical religious zealot my dudes. He was (probably) a part of the Faerûn equivalent of the Spanish Inquisition lite.

I have kept this as factual as I am able to. Please keep in mind that Baldur's Gate 3 plays it fast and loose with the DND/ Forgotten Realms canon and lore, on top of DND/ the Forgotten Realms itself regularly disregarding and changing it's own lore and canon. DND lore and canon as a whole is a mess. It has multiple universes that sometimes interact and are maybe separate from each other. Full disclosure; I've mixed 1e-5e lore together FUCK 5.5e, because parsing through what is currently considered canon is a nightmare. As far as I'm concerned, as long as a piece of lore was canon at some point in the past 50 years— it's fair game. @y-rhywbeth2 in this post has a more in depth disclaimer. Also please check out their headcanons and lore breakdowns, they're so good.

THIS PROJECT TOOK ME OVER A MONTH TO WRITE. I've tried to find all grammatical and spelling errors. I've tried to ensure that I've cited the correct sources in the correct places.

Before reading this way to long post please look at itsclydebitches analysis on Zevlor. [Alt] Which provided me with so much insight to his character and kickstarted my obsession with him. Also, @itsclydebitches puts ideas into words better than I do.

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

● (Part 1) Zevlor before the events of BG3:

Here is what we know, for sure, about Zevlor:

Zevlor is a tiefling.

Zevlor achieved the rank of commander in the Hellriders.

He survived the city's fall into the Hells.

He was a paladin.

He does not have Darkvision.

Finally, here are the headcanons I have cobbled together based on the available albeit often times conflicting information I have gathered: (Hard facts are in green, everything else is speculation on my part.)

The youngest I would put Zevlor at is his mid 50's. The oldest I would put him at is his late 60's.

So this means that he was approximately 5-15 years old during the vampire crisis. Mentally, these are very formative years for a person. It really isn't a stretch of the imagination to assume that this, along with the miraculous appearance of the companion, set young Zevlor on the path to becoming a paladin and a Hellrider.

There aren't many elderly Hellriders around because most die in the line of duty. To have survived into his old age is a testament to Zevlor's skill, dedication, and luck divine favor.

(AN: In Zevlor's Sleep Stories, "a non-profit project created for and run by fans of Baldur's Gate 3 and its characters.", in episode # 8 - Oathsworn Glenn McCready, the official VA of Zevlor, (I only point out that the stories are narrated by the official VA because I think it's really cool that he and the fans have collaborated on the project. It is not meant to imply that him narrating the project means he has any opinions on how Zevlor is depicted in them, nor is it meant to lend any weight to the Sleep Stories being regarded as canon. Please check it out, it's an amazing project.) narrated a story in which Zevlor was stated to be 10 years old when the Companion first appeared— making Zevlor ~60 during the events of BG3. Zevlor's Sleep Stories is NOT canon, but I'm going to view this one story as canon in my heart; unless/ until Larian releases content/ info that contradicts it.)

This post [alt] by @nightmarist and @space-blue with contributions from @haru-sen is a wonderful source for some history of Elturel, how the Hellriders and Zariel are connected, how paladin's and their oaths work, and an analysis of how being exiled from Elturel changed/ impacted Zevlor's oath.

Zevlor would have had to devote himself 3x more than a non-tiefling Hellrider would've:

Hellriders were held to a high moral standard in a city that already had strict moral codes of conduct.

The Order of the Companion members took the Hellriders dedication a step further by swearing an oath to the city on a god.

Zevlor would have been under intense scrutiny for the crime of being a tiefling. For him to have made the rank of Commander despite this means that he proved, beyond a shadow of a shadow of a doubt, that he was devoted to protecting Elturel.

For added angst I like to headcanon that he had only achieved the rank of Commander a few tendays before Elturel fell into the Hells. And that it took so long for Zevlor to achieve the rank of Commander because he was rejected for promotions in favor of someone who wasn't a tiefling, even if they were less suited for the job than Zevlor was. And that if he wasn't a tiefling then he would've become a commander many years earlier.

Which means that for the entirety of his adult life Zevlor wholly devoted himself to being a Hellrider. He had to forsake everything else, being a Hellrider was his life's purpose.

That level of dedication cannot be faked or forced. He truly believed in being a Hellrider and what the Hellriders stood for/ represented.

And he was thanked for his years of unyielding service by being

● (Part 2) Banished from Elturel:

Zevlor's years of service, his countless sacrifices, and unwavering dedication to the protection of the city and its inhabitants meant nothing to the people of Elturel after the city was returned from the hells. Tieflings looked like the devils that had tormented them in hell (nevermind that the tieflings were also subject to the abuse from devils) and as such they were blamed for the city's Decent into Avernus.

"Many if not all the city's tieflings were exiled from the city, thanks to a new wave of misplaced fear and newly-formed prejudice."

This hatred from the people he loved so dearly didn't lead to Zevlor breaking his oath, it shattered Zevlor's very faith itself. (FFS, I can't find a clip of the Narrator describing Zevlor's time in/ just after Avernus when you click on him when he's in the mindflayer pod in Act 2. Please just trust me on this one.)

Zevlor didn't break his oath, it was broken for him. Hellriders swear to "Serve the realm of Elturgard, and defend the city of Elturel body and soul.", and he was forced to abandon the city.

Earlier in this series I had mentioned how exiled Hellriders were stripped of their gear before being cast out of the city. Zevlor, and the other tiefling Hellriders at the end of the game, still have some of their Hellrider gear. [alt] This makes me think that the other Hellriders refused to completely strip their tiefling family members of their gear because they did not agree with the city's bigoted decision. Letting them keep their gear would have been a subtle hint (and resistance to the city's authority) that the other Hellriders still considered their tiefling comrades as fellow Hellriders.

Whether the exiled tiefling Hellriders were still considered members of the Hellriders by the remaining Hellriders or not, Zevlor was now a

● (Part 3) Refugee:

But Zevlor still had a purpose, he and his fellow banished tiefling Hellriders swore to defend the civilian refugees on their journey to Baldur's Gate.

Tilses, and I assume the other Hellriders, still referred to Zevlor as Commander, and still considered him a Hellrider. She believed that no one could revoke their membership to the Hellriders, but Zevlor did. "They can [take away our Hellrider membership], and did. Avernus changed things — best we get used to that." - Zevlor

They were attacked multiple times on the road, and they had many casualties, and so Zevlor carried on as he always had— as a paladin sworn to protect his people. The refugees and the other, younger, Hellriders needed him to be a strong leader with unwavering faith, so that's what he was— but it was all an act. An act that got harder and harder to keep up as the days wore on and the rations, and survivors, dwindled.

But then they stumbled upon a possible salvation,

● (Part 4) The Emerald Grove:

They were welcomed in with open arms by the Archdruid Halsin. For the first time in who knows how long the refugees could rest. Sure, most of the other druids seem to barely tolerate the tieflings— but the Archdruid had made his position on their continued sanctuary within the grove clear.

And then the Archdruid Halsin went off with a set of very inexperienced and racist adventures, leaving a woman who could barely hide her contempt for the refugees as temporary Archdruid. Which should have only been for a few days at most, Zevlor knew he could play nice long enough to placate Kagha until Halsin returned, it was fine.

But Halsin didn't return, because he'd been kidnapped. And worse, Zevlor find this out because those inept adventures brought a pack of goblins right to the gate of the Grove.

I think the goblin attack was when Zevlor truly began to crumble. He would've been overwrought with guilt and self-doubt. Had he not spent ~20 seconds berating and interrogating Aradin over leading goblins straight to the Grove, and instead used that time to open the gate, then Kanon's death could've been avoided.

Worse still is that he ordered a man who wasn't wearing any armor to open the gate. Zevlor blames himself for Kanon's death, and he would mentally self-flagellate himself over his own cowardice: How he, a Commander in the Hellriders, took cover while Kanon, a tailor by trade, bravely continued opening the gate while the goblins were firing arrows at him.

After a hard-fought battle, the goblins are defeated. Then Aradin swaggers in acting as though he didn't just do a profoundly stupid thing by leading the goblins straight to defenseless citizens. Not only that, the uppity shithead Aradin blames Halsin for getting himself kidnapped. And then Aradin strikes a nerve, calling Zevlor a coward (and a slur). I think that Zevlor is already contending with his own guilt from thinking that he himself acted cowardly. For Aradin to call him a coward, on top of all the other stupid shit he's been spouting off, is too much to bear, and Zevlor's rage/ self-loathing is about to erupt into violence.

Luckily, the group of actually competent adventures who arrived and saved the day also managed to diffuse the tension between Zevlor and Aradin.

Or not. Leading to Zevlor punching the overtly racist idiot.

Punching Aradin (acting on his inherent desire for violence*, specifically) is something that I believe is wildly out of character for Zevlor. Aradin isn't the first mouthy prick he's come across, and if Zevlor had responded with violence to all of them then he wouldn't have been able to become a Commander. The stress Zevlor's been under has finally boiled over, and now that he no longer considers himself a Hellrider (and is constantly in survival mode trying to keep himself and the other tieflings alive), keeping a tight lid on his anger isn't something he really cares about anymore.

*"Tieflings also had access to an ability known as infernal wrath, which channeled their innate rage and potential for evil into their attacks for added effectiveness."

I cannot emphasize enough how much self discipline and restraint Zevlor has. His infernal heritage in combination with the overt discrimination he has undoubtedly faced his entire life, plus a healthy dose of pride, are a vicious cocktail of honestly justified anger issues. (AN: Based on him having more physical infernal features than the other tieflings do [alt] I headcanon that he possesses a temper closer resembling a devil's than the less infernal-looking tieflings do.)

Zevlor has been unchained. When it becomes clear that diplomacy won't work Zevlor tells the player that Kagha is their main obstacle, and that without her influence the other druids may see sense. The way he phrases this sentence allows Tav to "read between the lines" and see that Zevlor is open to killing Kagha, while also giving himself plausible deniability. Zevlor didn't suggest murdering Kagha, Tav did. Zevlor is "still hoping that Kagha can be swayed from this madness.", but if not... well, surely Tav understands how "Leaders need to make tough decisions. We do what we must."

Notice how slyly he phrased that— "we", subtly putting himself and Tav in the same category/ on the same team. But most importantly he never outright says to Tav "I want you to kill Kagha", it's implied. His 17 charisma and years of politicking around racism and red tape really shows here; because if shit goes south and Tav fails in their assassination attempt then, even if he has ingested a truth serum, Zevlor can honestly tell the druids that he never asked Tav to kill Kagha. If Tav doesn't suggest killing Kagha then Zevlor doesn't bring it up, and instead asks Tav to take out the goblin camp leaders.

(I am only citing this one dialogue tree option. There are more dialogue tree options, but I can't find videos of them and I am currently unable to play BG3 to explore the different options myself.)

Zevlor is proficient in using manipulation tactics and his knowledge of psychology to garner his preferred outcome. To be clear— I don't think he would have acted in such an underhanded way before being exiled, but desperate times call for desperate measures. I do think that pre-descent Zevlor was no stranger to using manipulation/ his psychological insight to achieve his goals, he would've had to because of the prejudice he faced, but it would've been used for more benign reasons (such as being treated with basic respect instead of open contempt).

(AN: Manipulation in and of itself isn't inherently bad, we all use manipulation to some extent in our day to day lives. So long as they are not abused little white lies and benign manipulations, along with having/ using tact, allow society to smoothly function. Like how saying "Please get me a glass of water." is perceived more favorably, and is more likely to convince a person to get you a glass of water, than "Get me a glass of water." Saying please is considered polite, and people are much more likely to acquiesce to a request if someone is polite. 'You catch more flies with honey than with vinegar.' Or how you might wait until after someone has eaten to ask them for something, because they're more likely to agree to your request when they're not hangry.)

Zevlor was once a very proud man, and he had every right to be— becoming a Commander in the Hellriders is a remarkable achievement. Becoming a Commander in the Hellriders in the face of profound discrimination? Nothing short of a triumph. The Zevlor we meet at the Grove is a shadow of the man he used to be. The fall into Avernus and everything that happened after it has sucked most of the life out of him.

We still catch glimpses of the proud Hellrider Commander with the power of god and anime on his side that Zevlor once was. This post [alt] by @dimmadoome demonstrates not only Zevlor's pride, but his infernal temper and possessiveness (which I will cover in a different post). Listen to his speech here. This is a man who has lead his fellow warriors into battle. A man who fought for what he believed in and refused to give up even in the face of insurmountable danger. You can see the hell fire in his eyes blazing bright with righteous fury.

And then there's the speech he gives after defeating Minthara. Note his emphasis on the tieflings being not just survivors, but family. When he says 'family' he has a proud, gentle smile. (His high charisma and experience with giving rousing speeches may be the only reason why his mien changes during this part of his speech, but I think he's being sincere.) If you start that video from the beginning you can see him take a moment to collect himself because he's exhausted, but he knows his people need him to be a strong unflappable leader.

(Did you catch how he quickly pivots from hauteur "Tymora smile on me." to deference "We did it. You did it."? Manipulate, mansplain, malewife the hell out of them Zevlor.)

This portion of the video highlights Zevlor's loyalty to his comrades in arms. He calls Tav family— remember, Hellriders are extremely loyal to one another (and tieflings are very loyal to those who prove themselves trustworthy), this is how he behaved towards all his fellow Hellriders before he has cast out of Elturel. His faith is still broken, but Tav/Durge/Origin has reignited a glimmer of hope in him.

I think this is the only time I've ever seen this poor man actually relax and smile. But then he immediately goes back to looking pensive and walled off. I may be delulu and reading too far into things, but I don't think this is merely his character model returning to its default— I think it demonstrates exactly how Zevlor has been living for years: Silently admonishing himself for letting his guard down and his control slip. Desperately wanting to let go and forget himself and his propriety for a while but being unwilling, possibly unable, to do so.

That being said he does somewhat relax at

● (Part 5) The Tiefling Party:

There isn't a lot to say here. Zevlor isn't imbibing (much) to ensure that he keeps his wits about him— both so that he can supervise the people who are partying, and keep watch for potential threats. Even though he's not partying, Zevlor is elated to see the tiefling refugees smiling and relaxing. He knows that the journey ahead of them is fraught with danger/ trials and tribulations. He even looks the other way when his people spike the punch to make purple drank.

In Early Access to thank Tav for saving them Zevlor made a (bugged) light show where every light in it represented a life that Tav and Co. had saved. The party is the last time Zevlor is happy and hopeful before everything falls apart, as we will see in the next installation of this series: (Part 4) Zevlor's actions during Act 2, an analysis of a broken man.

Here's a link to the master list for this series.

Thanks for reading!

[thebramblewood]

Apologies if you've answered this before, but I was looking through your asks and couldn't find anything.

Do you have any advice on how you take such good screenshots of your game? You have such a knack for lighting, having variety of shots, and making them immersive.

This is so sweet. Thank you! 🥰

If I'm being honest, it's 90% vibes and gut feelings for me. I don’t have any formal background in filmmaking or photography, and everything I know is by sheer osmosis. There’s a lot of fancy terminology to describe why certain image compositions look better than others. I admire and respect anyone who purposefully keeps that in mind. But I am definitely not that person. I think I’ve watched enough film and TV, though, to subconsciously be doing the "right thing" - or at least what looks right to me.

That being said, I think the best way to improve is practice. If you spend enough time doing something you'll obviously get better at it, even if you don't realize it at first. So the most important thing is to give yourself the patience to grow and the freedom to experiment! At any rate, here are some things I've learned that will maybe be helpful to others.

Camera Tricks: We all know the camera in TS4 can be a little wonky at times. I use Buckley's camera mod. It hasn't been updated in eons but still works as far as I can tell. It gives you more freedom with movement, and I've found it especially helpful for getting shots that are lower to the ground.

Now that I've realized how sneakily useful first person camera can be, I also take advantage of that all the time. There's the trick of making your Sim look in a specific direction. (This works with poses and gameplay actions, by the way! For example, I used it to turn Caleb's head toward Lilith while he was trimming the bonsai tree.) There's the Dutch angle trick explained in this video. This is great for moments of disorientation and unease. I also just straight-up used first person camera to convey Helena's confusion upon waking after being turned.

Also, saved camera positions are your best friends. You can save up to five positions using CTRL+5-9. Then you just click the corresponding number to return to that position. I've used these for so many reasons. By taking two shots in the same position and Photoshopping them together, I've been able to edit Sims in (like Vlad below), fix accessory clashes (the book was in the hat category, so Lilith couldn't actually wear it at the same time as the towel on her head), and to pose Sims in open doorways (Helena had to walk through the door to open it for the Vatores, so I shot both halves separately).

Zoom: I love smashing that zoom button, whether it's zooming way in or way out. Zoomed out shots are perfect for establishing setting or as interstitial shots during a long conversation when you don't want to always focus on Sims' faces. They're also great for the draaama. Extreme close-ups are great for emphasizing emotion or a tiny but significant detail. Playing around with the extremes of zoom is one of the best ways to achieve shot variety!

Focus: I don't think Reshade is a necessity for good visual storytelling, but it does make certain things easier. I rely a lot on depth of field shaders to pull focus in shots. I like using cinematic depth of field especially in conversations to blur some characters while emphasizing others. I feel like this helps ground conversations because it reminds us there are multiple participants instead of always zeroing in on the speaker alone. Another way to play with focus is to allow the angle to mirror the emotions of the conversation. It's an older shot, but I always liked how Caleb seems to cower beneath Lilith's bat form here even though she's technically smaller. And in the recent conversation between Lilith and Helena, I kept the camera to Lilith's back to emphasize her vulnerability and discomfort and put the focus on Helena's reaction to it.

Framing/Angles: I do this by pure instinct, honestly, and have gotten better at getting it right on the first shot over time. I used to take half a dozen shots of the same pose from different angles and choose the best one. Nowadays, I'm quicker to commit and often take only one shot. I've learned that if something immediately tickles my brain, it's usually the way to go. I usually angle shots so that the characters aren't looking directly at camera, as it seems more natural that way. On the other hand, sometimes the direct to camera look can actually work in more confrontational or unsettling moments.

Environment: If I can help it, I don't do my own builds. In some ways, this is a disadvantage because I have to set up the scene within a space that wasn't specifically catered to it. On the other hand, it makes for fun little surprises, like the ability to peek in through a skylight or frame two characters within perfectly placed archways. I like using objects and structures to create interest when I can. I often don't discover things like this until I'm pulling the camera around and randomly happen upon them. I definitely recommend navigating all around to see what you've got to work with before committing to any specific angle. You might find one you didn't even think of!

Lighting: I do what I can with the game's lighting. I avoid placing ceiling lamps or at least turn the brightness down much lower, and I don't usually turn all the lights on in a room at once. I tend to change the color to one of the warmer golden hues to avoid a stark white that washes everything out. I always like when I can get some sources of light into frame because it adds a lot to the ambience. But I've also been using Relight on all of my posts lately. It's an addiction, and it truly makes all the difference. I'll use it to give light sources a stronger glow so they stand out more and also to create shadows on Sims' faces. It's also very good for flashlights and computer screen glow!

After having self-indulgently written all this, I'm not sure how much is usable advice versus rambling musings. I find it hard to give storytelling "tips" because so much of it feels innate and personal and hard to put into generalized terms. I also don't want to imply that every one of my shots is perfect or that there aren't a million other ways to go about achieving good results. But thank you to anyone who's made it this far, and I hope you found it worthwhile. 💕

[fabled-lady-twilla]

Twilla's Ever Growing ShigaDeku Fanfiction Recommendation List

Before diving in, please be advised that this list has everything from platonic friendship, soft and fluffy romance, omegaverse fics, problematic or dead dove content, fantasy, scifi, and horror fics, some fem Izuku and fem Shiga, and of course, plenty of smut. I'm open to reading (mostly) anything as long as I think it's well-written and it's something I find interesting or compelling. These fics are just the ones I've found so far, and eventually more will be added.

Please read the warnings on the fics themselves! All of the following recommendations can be found on AO3. I hope you enjoy! 😊

Queerplatonic Friendship

FGAP (Four Games about Pain) by 13thStep

reconcile by whatagoodegg

Cherry Milkshakes by smol_bird

Marks and Ties by GrowingAHead (shelleyk0503)

ShandMan18 by ShotoTodorhoeki

Rebuilt Anew by em_proxy

it's all fun and games till somebody falls in love by orphan_account

The Push And Pull Of Death And Life (But Which Is Worse Depends On Your Perspective) by Otaku6337

Some Degree of Romance

Baby Spice by MidnightTrashGoblin

Logical Ruse by AngeliaDark

Ask me if you dare by Niftyhope

Losing Definition by LittleLady95

Reach for me. by Lubylu1989

Lovers of Lost Dimensions by miss_nighteye (terryh)

A Home Within The Light by MissMidnightsPlace

Lusus Naturae by TenkonoTama

answer me. by supercrunch

To Depend on the Enemy by AMedicalMistake

What the Heart Wants by erza_mikazuki

Sleepwalking (When You're Gone) by ReadingToMusic

Total Simp Behaviour by ReadingToMusic

Mind-melting by ReadingToMusic

Red Ledger by AdoxographicGrim

What Baking Can Do by ACafeofSandandBones

Resthaven by StarsGarters

Don’t give strangers on the internet your name (you might fall in love with them) by IchiroIsCoolGuy

Don’t give strangers on the internet your name (you might want to marry them) by IchiroIsCoolGuy

Dead Dove, Problematic, or Smut

Wicked Ties by A_Single_Cactus (Dub-con)

Push and Pull by A_Single_Cactus (Dub-con)

good boy by a_sentimental_man (Dub-con)

Prince and Pauper by 13thStep (Obsession)

Hatakikomi by 13thStep (Captivity)

Made for me by overwhore (Captivity)

Corrosion by ReadingToMusic (Corruption)

Step It Up by AdoxographicGrim (Step-siblings)

Omegaverse

How to Court a Broken Omega by StarsGarters

Changes by A_Single_Cactus

“Can’t You See That You’re Lost?” by DerpressoResso

It's Called Public Service by AdoxographicGrim (Mild Dub-con)

Dear Agony by miss_nighteye (terryh) (Dub-con)

praying mantis by adipocere (Non-con, probably the darkest fic)

Adventure, Scifi, Fantasy, Horror

What Grows Here by Aravis

The Last Dragon by celebisaur

Castaway by StarsGarters

Between the Devil and the Deep Blue Sea by StarsGarters

Hidden in Plain Sight by A_Single_Cactus

Female Izuku + Male Tomura

According to Persephone by MamaDonovan (Very Dub-con)

Queen of the Underworld by MamaDonovan

Beautiful Disaster by miss_nighteye (terryh)

Female Izuku + Female Tomura

tell me lies, lies, beautiful lies by miss_nighteye (terryh)

i’m yours to keep by miss_nighteye (terryh)

A Familiar Sensation by A_Single_Cactus

Sad or Tragic Ending

and my one true love called me a monster by orphan_account

Nothing Else in the World but One Another by tristeza

Let me know if you have a recommendation to add! 💚💚💚

[glow-in-the-dark-death]

Creations Dance

Danny likes to dance in the night sky while flying in his new ghostly form which is very ethereal holding glimpses of different parts of space and creations unknown, this continues even after he moves to Gotham.

The sky around him becomes his stage,

A stage that matches him and follows his lead.

Gotham has never had such clear skies, able to see each and every star shining brightly.

Twinkling in many colours almost seeming to dance alongside Danny,

Sharing his joy in their existence.

~

Duke had seen the new phenomenon that was Gotham's skies, who hadn't it was all he would hear people talking around him anytime he left the house, speaking of which were also discussing the same.

Bruce, Tim, and Barbara all researching to see what had caused the change, their bet so far was on magic but not sure who or what was causing it or the reason why.

He had seen the others also poking around seeing if they could find a lead.

But the most curious of all being Jason's new demeanor, ever since the night skies had changed he seemed to calm down almost seeming peaceful.

Which don't get him wrong was a great thing to happen but the timing of it all was too weird, honestly even Bruce was tense about the sudden turn around in demeanor.

So with everyone else occupied he decided he might as well go and enjoy the night sky, it was a very amazing view to miss out on.

He had discovered a new spot a bit far from home but it was quiet and private and would make the perfect spot to stargaze comfortably without being interrupted.

~

He had fallen asleep accidentally but something had woken him up.

He noticed that it was cold, cold enough that he could just barely see his breath in the air in front of him which should not be possible since it was almost summer, had Mr.Freeze escaped?

Looking around now alert he caught a flash of something up above his head.

Looking up he saw..light and darkness and so many things that his mind couldn't comprehend rather less describe.

His eyes shifted trying to make out what he was seeing, in the center was a being..dancing?

The being seemed to feel his eyes on them because in the next moment they turned to stare at him.

He could feel the weight of their eyes on him their entire presence focused around him radiating power and joy.

Continuing to stare at each other the only thing Duke could think of was,

"You're gorgeous.."

Duke snapped back realizing he had said that out loud his face warming, but the being in front of him seemed delighted.

"Thank you! I'm surprised you're able to see me."

"It's hard not to, you were dancing so happily I could feel it in my chest."

They-he? floated closer

"If you liked my dancing so much you could continue to visit me here to see."

" If you're okay with it then I would really like that, my name is Duke."

"It's a date then Duke! You can call me Danny."

~

God what was he going to tell the others? He found the cause for the change in Gotham but Danny seemed to be good, not a villain.

Well he'll keep it a secret for a while more right now he had to prepare for his date!

~

Duke sees Danny dancing around in the sky: "We'll have a winter wedding."

~

Duke seeing the Bats stressing and losing sleep trying to figure what's going on: "Should I say something? Hm nah."

~

Danny Dancing around in the sky while Duke is in the background being a supporting bf cheering him on with pom poms: "That's my boyfriend woo~!"

~

The bats for some reason arguing about each other's past relationships and crushes

Steph pointing at Dick: You're the one with the strangest taste seriously out of everyone in this family Duke and I are the only ones with normal taste! Right Duke!"

Duke " My Boyfriend is a Being/Ancient Ghost of Space That Most of the Time Doesn't Look Human/Humanoid" Thomas: * face sweating while he tries to sneak out of the room* "Umm..*voice crack* y-yeah."

~

I really enjoyed writing this one, I don't see a lot of Duke/Danny, but the works I've read are all so wonderful ♡

~

Just an Idea

[tadc-harlequin-au]

New Puppet Unlocked: Pomni, the Last Harlequin!

Pomni's character description:

I actually finished this about three days ago, but I didn't wanna post it because I haven't started on the others yet. I eventually decided that fuck it, we ball.

Pomni is the most recent and last model of a Combat Harlequin; P-1210. She doesn't have any remembrance of her life before becoming a Puppet, only the fact that she has an itch in her head that tells her to keep fighting.

After hunting down The Puppetmaster and a duel ensues between the two, it ends with the Harlequin and The Puppetmaster forming an alliance in order to fix the destroyed City.

Now, Pomni spends her time sparring, sharpening her sword, bantering with the Puppetmaster, hunting down bosses and eliminating manic Marionettes.

Fun facts about Pomni:

She likes sandwiches. Specifically, salmon.

She REALLY hates it when someone eats it. (It's Bubble)

She finds some things annoying in other Puppets, and will be blunt about it.

But that doesn't mean she doesn't care. In fact, far from it.

Pomni may come off as cold and jerkish due to her hot-temper, but in reality, her emotions simply have ahold on her more than anyone would ever really think.

Caine thinks that a therapist would benefit her. (honestly though)

She hasn't explored any hobbies outside from anything involving combat.

Pomni occasionally gets glimpses of visions when she dies; she is unaware of what they mean.

Pomni rarely gets drunk; she'll only indulge in alcohol when there's an occasion. Aside from that, she tends to limit Caine's alcohol intake (reasoning that he smells like booze), much to the Puppetmaster's dismay.

She shuts down any form of philosophical advices, thinking they're "typical" and "unnecessary".

She tends to be careless and rude in battle.

When push comes to shove, Pomni can and WILL use her sharp teeth to her advantage.

Pomni initially disliked Ragatha. She found the doll's positive demeanor eerie, and even uncanny, borderline inhuman. Thankfully, a few interactions and heart-heart conversations later, she's changed her mind since.

Bubble usually accompanies her when she's out on missions, a condition she had to agree on just so Caine would let her fight overburdened Puppets. Even though she hates the blimp's nonsense, she knows that his presence is out of necessity, since Bubble is the only way keeping in touch can be possible.

She rarely ever apologizes.

She once stole Caine's cane to try and figure out how his attacks work. She immediately lost interest once she found out it's just a plain, and boring metal cane.

She unlocks the first stage of enlightenment after the first boss.

Battle quotes:

"Yeah, yeah, shut up."

"I didn't come here just for you to act like a wuss!"

"You. Me. This sword. In your head."

"That was pretty stupid of you to do."

"Between you and me, I prefer still having my head on my shoulders."

"This is getting annoying!"

"I've had it with you idiots!"

"I'm gonna celebrate with a Puppet head kebab once I'm done."

"I like the sounds of a sword slashing, and heads bashed in."

"Keep (talking/screaming), and I'll crack your skull open."

Hurt in battle:

"Ah! What the fuck!"

"You're gonna pay for that!"

"Eye for an eye, motherfucker!"

"I normally wouldn't mind... Actually, I always mind."

"When I'm done, you're gonna be unrecognizable."

"Fucking marionettes!"

"Useless scrap!"

"I really, really, REALLY wanna hurt you right about now."

"Ohohoho, you're picking the WRONG fight, BUDDY."

"Asshat!"

"Who do you think you are!?"

Dying:

"This... wasn't supposed to go this way..."

"God.... dammit."

"Agh... fuck."

"That... fucking... hurt."

"I still...! Got fight...! Left in me..."

"This... isn't... over..."

"I'm... not... done..."

[certifiedyapperx]

Captain John Price • broken.

PAIRING: John Price x Fem!Reader

SUMMARY: the result of my poll. in short, you tell your captain that the reason you’ve only dated one man is because your ex said you were broken due to your inability to orgasm; and price offers to show you that the only thing broken was your confidence.

WORD COUNT: 5.3k (got carried away.)

TAGS: 18+, PURE FILTHY SMUT MDNI, Slight Degradation, Praise, Multiple Orgasm, PIV, Semi-Public Sex, Dirty Talk, Absurd amount of swearing, Fingering, Price being daddy as fuck.

"What about that ex girlfriend of yours, Gaz?"

As soon as those words left the Scottish lads lips, everyone in the room was giggling like a lot of fucking schoolgirls. You'd be lying if you said that didn't include yourself.

"You want to talk about ex girlfriends now, Soap?" Gaz sat forward in his chair, eyeing his grinning teammate from across the room, the grip on his glass so tight you were worried it'd shatter between his fingers. "What about that woman you boned in Prague? The one that wanted, oh--how do I say it...a little ride on train 141."

"Nuthin' little about that train." Ghost added through a choked chuckle, barely able to get the words out.

Your fucking abdomen was starting to get sore from the amount of laughing you'd done tonight. These men were absolutely ridiculous. You'd never heard more obscene sex stories in your damn life, and they've got a bloody abundance of them--the back and fourth taunting over who fucked who and who did what never seemed to end. It was almost three in the morning and they were still going strong.

"Aye," Soap leaned back in his chair, bringing his glass up to his lips and taking a slow sip, wide eyes gleaming as he reminisced. "Fuckn' wild one, that one. Had her nice and tamed for me by the end of that deployment.”

"Aye, the fucking woman whisperer, this one," Ghost chimed in again, his balaclava half pulled up, exposing his stubble-donned chin and grinning lips as he took a hefty swig of bourbon. Not even fazed. "Almost as smooth as Price."

Everyone in the room chuckled, nodding and muttering words of agreement, but you were stuck in place--still absentmindedly staring at Ghost while turning the words over in your mind, curiosity piqued.

"Price?" His name left your lips before you could even attempt to prevent it.

All eyes in the room shifted toward you, and Gaz cocked an eyebrow. "You've never heard any of his stories?"

Ghost shot him a look. "Clearly not."

"I mean, I've heard some..." you mumbled, awkwardly trying to fix the mess you've just made. Your gaze darted between the three men staring at you, each set of eyes glazed with confusion, clearly trying to figure out why you were so taken aback. "Captain is far more secretive than the rest of you."

You'd been on the team for a solid eight months. Since recruitment, you'd worked alongside Price every single fucking day, yet the man hardly ever spoke about his personal life.

Unlike the others, who seemed to never stop.

"Around you, yeah." Soap mumbled with a smirk, shooting a knowing glance toward Gaz who instantly returned it.

Your brows knit in confusion. "Around me?"

"Aye." Ghost replied for Soap, and you were practically sitting on the edge of your goddamn seat as you knew he wasn't finished. He shifted lower in his chair as his eyes traced up and down your form. "You're new. You're hot. You've never spoken a word about your own personal life. The man's a bloody nutcase, but he hides it well when he needs to--he probably doesn't want to scare you off."

"Scare me off?" You had to fight to keep your jaw off the floor. Trying to mask your confusion, you cleared your throat. "What's that supposed to mean?"

At your reaction, everyone chuckled again, and your face immediately flushed with blood--shading you the same crimson colour found on a ripe fucking tomato. If there was some joke happening here, it'd clearly flown way above your radar.

And yet, before you or anyone else could even consider speaking again, the man of the hour appeared in the doorway, and you nearly fell out of your chair.

"Valid question." He didn't even acknowledge you as he spoke, eyes fixed on Ghost as he took a step into the room.

Gods, he was fucking attractive—every molecule in your being screamed at the sight of him. You'd done everything you could to ignore that fact for the entirety of your time here, ensuring your focus was trained on keeping things professional--but after two glasses of whiskey and the current topic of conversation, the flood gates were wide fucking open.

"Go on, Ghost," his voice was low, deep as the depths of your desire as his ocean eyes slowly danced around the room. "...I'd like to know the answer as well."

Price took a seat across from you, slouching slightly and nodding toward Soap who promptly poured him a glass of burning brown liquid and slid it across the table. Ghost pulled down his balaclava in attempt to hide his cheeky fucking grin, shrugging as though he had no idea what his Captain was on about. 

"Not sure what you mean, Cap." Ghost quipped, and you could practically hear the beaming delight in his words. "We're just talking."

"Hm," Price side-eyed him, humoured. "You always talk about me?"

"Only when you're not around." Soap chimed in, snuffing a groan in his throat as he'd downed the rest of his drink and stood up, shooting an inebriated nod to each of you. "Well, would you look at the time--I'm gonna' hit the sack. Duty calls, y'know."

Your stomach churned with confusion, your eyes glued to the Scottish bloke who decided it was convenient to make his exit the exact moment Price entered the room. You almost wanted to reach over and yank him back into his seat.

"Keep it classy ya filthy bastards."

He shot you a cheeky wink from beyond the door frame before disappearing into the abyss, only for Gaz and Ghost to rise from their seats as well, seemingly following Soap's lead, muttering excuses about how late it was and how exhausted they were.

Your mind raced at lightning speed, trying to make sense of the sudden exodus. You were going to kill those fuckers in the morning.

Price broke the silence before it had the chance to linger for too long. "It's not personal, you know."

Your heart slammed your sternum. You sucked in a breath and trapped it there. You needed to calm the fuck down--though that seemed like a goddamn impossible task at the moment. Prices' voice was the hypnotizing depth of a black hole. It stirred every last atom within you.

Avoiding his eyes, you straightened in your seat, clearing your throat. "I know."

"Do you?" He cocked an eyebrow, two fingertips tracing the rim of his glass. "I'm not so sure."

You looked up now--almost immediately regretting it as your eyes caught his. You forced words out of your mouth before you could acknowledge how the way he was looking at you made you feel.

"It's because I haven’t opened up to you..." you murmured. "Yeah?"

Price nodded, choosing to remain silent, his gaze anchoring you to the floor—every muscle stiff as stone.

You cleared your throat again. "Well. What do you want to know? My family? Where I grew up-"

"No." He cut you off, leaning forward, elbows resting on the table as his stare intensified. "...I already know all that. You're my recruit, I know everything about your past..." his head tilted, his eyes narrowed, and he pushed his glass to the side, clasping his hands together infront of him. "What I don't know, is why a woman as skilled, as smart, and as undeniably attractive as you, has only ever been with one man."

Blood crystallized in your veins, every ounce of your skin vibrating with an emotion you couldn't identify. He was so close—closer than you'd initially gauged—and that closeness ignited dormant desperation, one you'd nearly forgotten existed.

Your throat was thick. Saliva lodged inside it. "I..."

There was a reason. There was a very good reason as to why you've only been with one man, why you promised to never put yourself through that shit again. But you couldn't bring yourself to say it, you couldn't bring yourself to speak the words aloud. That would mean being vulnerable, humiliatingly vulnerable--one of the many things soldiers were trained not to be.

Captain Price hummed, leaning back slightly, and a swarm of unpreventable desire roared alive in your chest. His attention flicked over you. Like he'd felt it.

He remained silent. He was waiting for an answer.

"It's...um..."

Your brain filtered through pages of plausible excuses until it landed on one. Inhaling a breath, you forced the fibbing syllables past your teeth, shrugging in an attempt to make it believable.

"I just...never found anyone I jived with.”

Price paused, his scrutiny skinning you raw. It was like he knew what was waiting on the edge of your tongue, like he could smell the smoke swirling off the fire below your waist. He wasn't buying it.

"You can't lie to me." His words only confirmed your thoughts. "I mean, theoretically you could, though I'd advise against it."

You swallowed, forcing your eyes to your hands. "I'm not lying."

"Perhaps not," he replied, voice cool as ice. "But you're certainly omitting."

Fuck, he was good. And of course he was--there was a reason he was Captain. He was fucking bred for this. You were certain he could detect a lie from light years away.

"It's embarrassing," you replied, ignoring the thrilled leap your heart made that he'd read you so well. "You'll think less of me."

John Price leaned further across the small table, nibbling the distance between you. The intensity of his focus made your insides tangle, something was undoubtedly churning within his mind. A breath caught in your throat as his eyes held yours.

"I don't care," he stole another inch, and you could now comfortably say that he was well within your personal space. "If this is going to work, there has to be trust. Because you should trust me—as your Captain, and as your friend..." in a single abrupt movement, he stood up, towering over you, eyes boring into the top of your head until he shifted toward the door. "...when you're ready to open up to me, I’ll open up to you."

Ice braced your veins. This was the most conversation you'd had with your Captain since you joined the team, and you were about to blow it with your inability to talk to him. To just telling him the fucking truth. He took a step back from the table, began moving toward the door, and you panicked.

You let him get two steps from reaching it before you jumped up, out of your seat. "Wait!"

Time was a relative concept. But as your Captain spun, and as you linked eyes with him, it slowed. Stopped.

You cleared your throat for the millionth time. "It's because...it's because I'm broken."

Price's eyes widened, only momentarily, before they narrowed--out of curiosity or skepticism, you couldn't tell.

"You’re broken." He said, drawing the words out on his tongue while taking a slow, lengthy step toward you. "Elaborate."

You dropped your eyes to the floor again, catching sight of his brown, rugged combat boots as they stepped into your line of sight. Heat flashed your face, and you shifted on your feet.

"My...my ex...um," your voice was barely above a whisper. Something felt gut-wrenchingly humiliating about having this conversation with your fucking Captain. "He, he kinda fucked with my head, I guess. Made me never want to date again."

You heard an exhale, a huff of enticed breath leaving lungs.

"I think," Price eased closer, and you caught whiff of his cologne--the scent engulfing your senses, sending hunger snarling and snapping for relief. "...you're omitting again."

"Why?..." you blurted, trailing your gaze past the vast expanse of his strong chest and up to his gleaming eyes peering down at you. You blinked. "...do you think that?"

Price raised a brow. "Am I wrong?"

"No, it’s just…” you closed your eyes, took a breath. Let it out. No point in lying. Just rip off the fucking bandaid. "He broke up with me because I couldn't orgasm. He said I was broken because of it. It’s dumb, but it hurt.”

Gods, it felt so fucking stupid that you had to smile, had to damn near laugh at yourself. As much as it sounded so foolish, you'd always just considered that maybe something was actually wrong with you. After all, he was your first, and your only—and the fact that you could never orgasm bothered you, too.

However, when you finally reopened your eyes, swallowing whatever ounces of pride you had left, you found a depth to your Captain's ocean irises that was not there before.

There was something floating inside them, now--something primal, something depraved.

"Interesting." His hand raised from his side, grazing over your cheek and coming to a slow on your neck, the tips of his fingers skimming over your racing pulse. "Broken."

Any blood that had been left in your head was now plummeting to your core.

"Broken." You whispered.

Price exhaled, his breath caressing your face, and you bit your lip to stifle the whimper that wanted to thrust itself past your teeth. Never once would you have considered the thought of actually fucking your Captain--but right here, right now, with the way he was touching you, analyzing you, palpably tempting you--it was becoming more difficult to deny the physical need steaming from your pores.

"This,” his voice was so deep it made your blood sweat, his thumb stroking your pulse. "Doesn't feel broken at all."

Adrenaline surged you, ambushing your lungs with rapid breath, flares of lust sparking over your skin. You leaned into his touch, and he let out a sound that was somewhere between a hum and a straight up growl.

Your pulse soared, your hand finding his wrist. “Captain…”

It would be lying to say you thought this was a good decision. But you couldn't find a fuck within you. After years of denying yourself any sort of physical touch due to the shame that consumed you, Price had perceived it without effort and ordered you strip yourself of pretense in his presence.

"Let me show you...." Price wedged a boot between your feet, his hips brushing yours, other hand finding your hip. "...that the only thing broken is your confidence."

You nearly whimpered. "Please."

Without further contemplation, your eyes darted to his lips the same millisecond his darted to yours, and you both moved at once. Price groaned, one hand shooting into your hair, the other supporting the small of your back, tugging you close. His hungry mouth captured yours, teeth nipping your lower lip as he spun you around and pushed you back against the table.

You groaned into his mouth, your ass hitting the cool metal with abrupt force. His lips attacked your jawline, moved down to your neck, and another groan escaped you, this time in bliss.

"Fuck," you cursed under your breath, throwing your hips into his, allowing desperation to guide you. "Captain..."

A low, menacing noise reverberated in his throat and he seized your neck again, bringing his mouth to your ear.

"My name," he took the lobe between his teeth, earning a squeak. "Say it."

"John—" You gasped, clawing at his back. "Shit."

"Mm. Good girl. So obedient..." he purred, tracing his mouth along the curve of your ear. "So responsive."

"Fuck." Every new beat of your heart brought a desperate pulse to your cunt. His fingers found your hair again, curling into a fist. "John...please..."

Your Captain hummed, just as his lips moved back to your pulse and attacked it, sucking rough rabid marks to the surface, his hips grinding against yours. Your eyelids fluttered shut, and he moved lower, releasing your head to work on removing your clothes.

Before your belt even hit the floor, he was tearing off your shirt and tugging off your bra--exposing your breasts to the cool air of the dimly lit room, surging goosebumps to life that he was quick to cover with his hands, taking the fresh tissue between them and kneading it.

"Fuck," he muttered under his breath, to himself you presumed. "You're fucking perfect."

There was one brief second of thought surrounding the notion that any one of your teammates could walk in and find the two of you here—but that thought was quickly lost as Price leant down and sucked one of your nipples into his mouth. You squealed, squeaking in pleasure, and his grip possessed your hips.

"So sensitive..." he said with a grunt. Your Captain wasn't just hungry—he was starved, more voracious by the second, spurred on by your reactions. "Fucking hell."

He leaned back, hooked his fingers under the waist of your pants and pulled, unconcerned for the ripping seams as he forced them down the curve of your thighs. Your head rung, entire body tingling. Paralyzed, you watched your Captain tear off your boots and rip your pants free, tossing them all to the side.

"Fuck me." He muttered again, returning his sights to your figure. "Look at you."

Price examined you like a meal, gaze traveling from your collarbone to your breasts, down past the curve of your belly to the swell of your hips, coming to a slow between your quivering thighs.

Adrenaline had got you this far. Reality was setting in. "Captain..."

"Shh," calloused hands found your hips, urging you back against the desk, spreading your legs further apart as he inserted himself between them. "I already told you what to call me."

You shuddered, twitching from his touch, and the corner of his lip quirked. Smouldering blue eyes searing into your skin. "John, I—"

His thumbs slid close to your heat, dipping into the crease and teasing close to the edge of your thong. Reality was a plummeting star, crashing down into your mind without regard. Nerves were consuming you, fingers digging into his biceps in attempt to stop them from shaking.

"You...what?" His voice was practically a lullaby. How something so deep could be so soothing was beyond your comprehension. "Go on, pretty thing..."

"I just..." you shifted your hips, trying to balance fear with desire. "I'm just...I don't want to disappoint you..."

Price assessed you, only for a moment, gracing your thigh with a stern yet gentle smack before trailing upward.

"Enough." It was an order. "I want you out of that beautiful mind."

He brushed his finger across your cunt, grazing over your swollen clit, and you choked, hips snapping toward him.

"Don't think..." the power in his words was intoxicating, a command given with the confidence of knowing you'd obey. He teased your clit again and you whinged, gripping him harder. "...just feel."

Before a coherent thought could enter your head, he pulled your panties to the side with two thick fingers, not giving you a second to brace for it before he used those same fingers and sank them into your tight, aching cunt.

"Oh—fuck-"

You groaned, head tossed back, walls tightening around the delicious stretch as he pried you open with slippery ease. The intensity, the fullness from just his fingers stole your breath, dizzied your mind, and you closed your eyes, trying to ignore the growling breath escaping his lungs, trying to ground yourself as much as you could.

"Christ...tight little cunts just soaked..." he was right, you were dripping. You couldn't ever remember being this wet. In truth, you couldn't ever remember being this turned on, this desperate for touch. "Tell me how that feels."

"G-oh, fuck—" any additional words you had planned on using instantly died on your tongue as Price curled inside of you, pushing deep, every coherent thought fleeing your mind with a moan. Your entire body pulsed for him, like he'd shaken every cell awake and enthralled it under his possession. "John—oh, Gods!"

It wasn't like you'd never been fingered. It'd just never felt like this.

Something about the trained motion of his hand, the skilled curl of his wrist, the attunement to your body was consuming you--the need for more only increasing as he found a perfect rhythm, fucking slow, reaching to your belly while his thumb circled your sensitive clit. Your cunt throbbed, squeezed around him, as if to coax him deeper inside of you.

"Needy little thing," an amused huff at the corner of your consciousness. You forced yourself to look at him—he was smirking. "Tell me how it feels."

Desperation was throbbing at your temples, growling and coiling in your belly—unfathomable, incredible desperation stalling your lungs. Unfamiliar, but entirely absentmindedly as Price stroked your walls, stroked your clit, and you were gasping, you were—

"So fucking good—" you were practically screaming, brain a mangled mess of aimless words. "Cap—John, I—I'm-"

His free hand seized your jaw, forcing you to look up into his eyes, his fingers still keeping their pace, your vision blurring to bliss. "You're?"

You gasped. "I’m-"

"You’re close." Fire flooded your flesh, and you mewled like a nervous, helpless animal. His grip tightened. Intensity and power radiating off him in waves. "S’ that what you want, little slut? Hm? You wanna’ fuckin’ cum for your Captain, don’t you?”

“Yes!” No thought required. “Pleasepleaseplease-“

“Mhm. That’s right, that’s right—“ he was just as gone as you were. Air rattled in your lungs like rocks. Your vision blurring as you held onto him like your life depended on it. “Cum on my fingers, darling, let me feel you.”

A scream shredded your throat, submerged in a storm of euphoria, sight whiter than the gates of heaven themselves. Convulsions wracked you, quaked to your bones, and you heaved, hunting for air while he worked you through the receding tide of your release.

“Good fuckin’ girl.” He growled, the arrogance in his tone palpable. “Look how easy that was, hm?”

Your Captian pulled his fingers from cunt and yanked you off the table by the hold on your jaw—you stumbled into him, wetness seeping down your thighs, brain given less than two seconds to process the slew of events before his slick covered fingers were at your lips and pushing past your teeth.

"The way I see it, soldier—there are two possible explanations here." He shoved his fingers deeper, reaching for the back of your throat. "Either you somehow managed to lie to me..." he pressed against you, his desire evident in the way it was jabbing against your stomach. "Or this tight little cunt has never been properly sated."

Your heart was in your feet, your lips sealed around his fingers as you held his eyes, a shade of blue so deep you'd almost thought you were staring into the depths of the ocean. His pupils were blown wide with lust, it was clear what he was getting at—and judging by the way your cunt clenched in response to his words, it was clear that you felt the same.

He pulled his fingers from your mouth, looking for a response. You gave the only words you could think of. "I didn’t lie…I’ve had sex, Captain...I’ve just never done—that.”

"Well I think I've just proven that it wasn’t due to any fault of your own." His words were backing you into a corner, an explanation that was challenging to draw yet completely impossible to now ignore. "I got you there in seconds."

Your face grew hot. “So..what are you saying?”

“I’m saying,” he assessed you, eyes looking past you, through you. “Your ex didn’t know what he was doing.” he leaned in closer, plush lips curling into a mischievous grin. “All you needed was someone who knew how to handle you.”

"Hm." The arrogance was stifling, setting you ablaze. It only made you want him more. "Cocky bastard."

"Cocky," he repeated with a raised brow. "You have no idea, princess.”

"You know what, Captain," you teased with a smirk of your own, unable to tear your sights off him. His eyes. His lips. "I think you just got lucky."

“Luck.” He chuckled—a deep, growling thing. "I don’t do luck, soldier. I do facts.” Price shifted a hand to his crotch, palming his erection through his pants as he pressed against you. “Fact one, I just gave you your first orgasm.” He was possessed, hungry, borderline rabid. “Fact two, I could do it again on my cock. If you’d like.”

And you, you were his eager, willing prey.

"Shit," you muttered, the words shooting straight to your cunt. You didn’t need any further discussion. You wanted him, and nothing could stop the next words from leaving your lips. "Please...please fuck me..."

Your Captain growled. The sweet desperation of your pleas sending him past the point of salvation. He sucked in a breath. Trapped it there—internally clutching whatever ounces of restraint he had left.

"You sure you want this?" His voice was so fucking low you almost missed it. His fingers moved to his belt, and his lips moved to your ear. "I'm not so sure you can take it."

"I'm built for combat, Captain..." you murmured with a grin, spurred on by the evidence of his throbbing desire, fingers trailing toward his belt to help him along. "I'm sure I'll be fine."

Price huffed against your jawline. Amused.

"You’re built for combat, undoubtedly..." you watched as he pulled free his thick, heavy cock. Your jaw slackened, your mouth watered. "But by the time I'm done with you, darling..." he seethed in relief as he guided his hand back and forth along his length, other one directing you back against the table. "You'll be built for me."

A sharp intake of breath found your lungs and then you were lying flat against the table, cool metal biting your backside and ripping goosebumps to the surface of your skin. You shuddered, seething in discomfort, but two strong hands made quick work to soothe them, coasting up your thighs until they found your hips, and then he stepped forward.

"Christ..." you whimpered as he loomed over you, the warm head of his cock rolling over your clit, teasing you with false thrusts, making sure you were well aware of just how long and fucking thick he was. "John..."

"Quiet." He purred, fingers digging into the flesh of your hips. "Just let me break you open."

His heavy, smooth tip pressed against your entrance and then pushed in, head just barely spearing you yet somehow still splitting your cunt with a girth that stole your breath and forced a cry from your throat. With a breathless groan he pulled out, and you squeezed your eyes shut, bracing.

He smacked your thigh again. “Look at me.” He hissed, teeth sinking into the plush of his bottom lip as you instantly obeyed. “That’s it. Eyes on me.”

There was a mere second of silence before he sank in again, entirely this time—and though you were fucking sopped and pliant and voracious, he tore you wide with a sting.

"Oh—fuck-"

You fought for air, your body trembling, fingers clawing at anything that might steady you. He’d stuffed you full with ease, lungs heaving upon impact. Both big hands tightened around you, and he slid out, driving into you again with a hidden hiss of air, earning a loud, shameless groan from your lips.

"Fucking hell.” A dark, low voice rumbled from his throat. "Tight little whore. So fucking tight—"

"You're—oh, fuck—" words died on your tongue as he pulled out, pushed in again, sucking in air through his teeth, working you wider with each plunge into your pussy. You clenched around him, and he snuffed a moan, snapping his hips. "You're fucking huge."

"Mhm, yeah," it was a shameless admission. He placed a palm on your pelvis, pressing down, feeling himself fucking into you. He leaned back slightly, drawing long, slow strokes, forcing you to quake around every inch of his length. "That's how fucking deep I'm in you."

And deep he fucking was. Every centimeter banishing the ability to do anything other than exist as a stammering sheath for his cock. It wasn't penetration—it was pervasion, it was domination. Sex had never felt this intense. Sex had never felt this fucking tranquilizing.

"Christ—Cap-John—fuck—"

Price slid out and rocked in, driving to your stomach with a stab of blissful pain. Eyes snapping shut, you gripped his arms, seething when he thrusted again, and again. Each stroke shoved a cry from your chest, tightened your walls, and this only seemed to entice him, his cock splitting you apart. You scratched at his shoulders, fighting to find yourself in the bewildering delirium.

"There we go." His voice was distant in the sea of pleasure. "Look at you. Brainless on my fucking cock."

Your response was a moan, loud and shameless, gripping onto his arms and matching his rhythm, forcing your hips to his, a plea—faster, harder, more, more. Your Captain hissed in satisfaction, and his hand snaked between you, rolling and teasing your clit.

Your vision blurred for the hundredth time. "Oh, fuck—"

Delirium ascended into ecstasy, pleasure amplified by the stretch of his dick. He fucked into you, his skin smacking yours, his breath heaving in feral huffs.

"Fucking perfect pussy," he growled through his teeth, shifting your legs together and directing both ankles over his left shoulder, his thrusts slowly slightly as you gasped and whimpered, clawing at his hips, the new position causing the head of his cock to kiss your cervix with each thrust. "Mm, fuck...this is what you needed, darling. You needed a proper fucking."

"Fuck," you replied, brain numbed by bliss. Words didn't even make sense. "Deep. So fuck—deep—"

"Fuck—take it, take it little slut." His thumb was back on your clit, swirling it in tight, fast circles, his cock fucking deep into you. "I warned you."

"John—" You needed to scream, fingers clawing at anything they could find. If you weren't broken before, you’d certainly be broken when he was done with you. "Fuck—"

Bliss burned to burst, stars swarmed your sight entirely, and you knew it, knew it was happening, knew that you were about to break. The feeling was so intense you didn't know what to do with yourself, you weren't sure if you could even get the words out to warn him.

Your eyes squeezed shut. "Fuck—I'm—I-I'm..."

"Yeah, that's right." He hissed, teeth barred, hips snapping. He already knew. "Cum for me. Cum on my fucking cock."

Lightning euphoria ripped up your spine with a shameless shriek, your climax shattering you. Your cunt milked his dick, your thighs spasming, your back reached for the ceiling, pleasure possessing your nerves.

"There we go—good little fucking slut—squeezing me so good," it seemed an eternity--he was still fucking you through it, breaking you deep, until he edged his climax. "Fucking hell."

He sputtered, pummelling your cunt with sloppy final thrusts, pouring his cum inside you, grip gouging your flesh until he descended, meeting you in the receding tides of your peaks. Both of you twitched with aftershocks, both of you seeking air.

Once he stalled, you sucked in a long inhale and peeled your eyes open, taking in your surroundings for the first time in however many minutes it had been. The room was still as dim and dreary as it was prior to your mind shattering, the only thing now different was your Captain—who remained looming over the table, cock still buried inside you, precipitation lining his forehead and chest still heaving for breath, piercing gaze perceiving you like a sated predator.

With a glance at your lips, he finally moved, pulling back and out of you, tucking himself away. It was then that reality struck you hard—you'd just fucked your Captain. And he'd just shattered the preconceived notions of everything you thought you knew.

You were not broken. You were perfectly fucking fine.

Price cleared his throat as you pulled yourself off of the table and stood. "Y'alright?"

You nodded, grabbing your pants off the floor. "Yes, Sir."

Shame engulfed you, for reasons you couldn't explain. Embarrassment threatened to swallow you whole.

"Hey." Sensing this, Price stepped forward, placing a gentle hand on your arm. "Don't do that."

Your eyes fixed on his. Outlining his perfectly tamed facial hair, his striking blue eyes. "Do what?"

"Avoid me." He simply stated, his voice hardly above a whisper. "All this was, was me proving to you that you're not broken. You're the furthest from. It doesn't have to be any more than that."

"I know…just feel stupid, I guess.” Your face was in flames. You swallowed your pride until it was digested. There was no room for that here, not after what’d just happened. “I, uh, I should have told you sooner. I’m sorry.”

Price regarded you with eyes warm as the summer sun, shaking his head ever-so-slightly. “I wanted you to open up to me. Willingly. I never pry.”

You cracked a smile, slipping on your shoes. “You got your wish, then. Emotionally and physically.”

“Aye.” Your captain chuckled, reaching for the bottle of whiskey and plopping himself into a seat, sliding a glass across the table toward you. “My turn, yeah?”

[cow-smells]

Worth your While | Opla! Sanji x reader

Request: I've read that you are in the need for some Sanji request or ideas so here's one for a fic :D

The crew gets into a fight ( it can be the Navy or anither pirate crew) and the reader gets badly hit and Sanji just loses his shit seeing the person that he cared for the most getting knocked out?? I just genuinely wanna see Sanji just go ape shit on people because of it XD and maybe hiw the others in the clue will react to seeing Sanji like that? @smolracoon25

Summary: You and Sanji have been playing the flirting game for way too long. When you get injured, Sanji shows a side of himself you had yet to see.

Word count: 2.1k

Warnings: none

A/n: I'm going purely off the live-action so pls have that in mind, also I'm just getting back in to the rhythm of writing after such a long time so sorry if this is poop/ooc/both, love ya :)

Read on AO3

“Don't you ever take a break?”

Zoro's voice coming from behind startled you, forcing you to break your longing gaze at Sanji who was fishing at the bow of the ship. “Huh?” came your wise response.

Zoro looked from you to Sanji. “You've been making moon eyes at him for months now. Don't you get tired? Or are you waiting for him to take his shift staring at you so that you can clock off?”

You felt heat rising to your cheeks. This was far from the first time crew members commented about you and Sanji's – whatever was going on between you two – but this was the first time Zoro called you out so blatantly.

When you didn't respond, Zoro went on. “I just came to tell you we should be docking soon. I'll leave you the pleasure of telling the cook.” with that, he left.

You closed the book on your lap. You really did have the intention of reading when you first head out to the deck, having some time to kill, but then... you noticed Sanji. At first you thought you'd go sit with him for a while, flirt and banter a little as you always do, but you found yourself absorbed in taking him in instead. He was different when he was alone. The way he looked so focused, so deep in thought when it was just him and the sea. Maybe even a little sad. So different from his usual sunny exterior that he put on when he was with people. Falling in to deep thoughts wondering what he might be thinking about – maybe about you? - you sat and stared, not reading as much as a word.

The book discarded, you felt a spring in your step as you made your way to the ship's chef.

The creaking floorboards alerted your arrival. Sanji turned to see who was creeping up on him, and when he saw you, he set his fishing rod aside as a wide smile grew on his lips, his dimples deepening and making your heart miss a beat. “There's my favourite girl. Come here, let me hear all about your day.” Sanji held his arms open, beckoning you to come sit on his lap.

The flirting was nothing new. When you first joined the Strawhats, Sanji was as flirty to you as he was to any other woman; he did not expect to meet his match in you. You were quick to play along, always one-upping him, dancing along the line that separated playfulness and seriousness, never quite picking a side.

The problem was, in reality, you had chosen a side long ago.

You would flirt and giggle and make him blush but never actually act upon anything. Neither would Sanji. He, however, took your playing along as though it was a battle to be won. Sanji would flirt, you'd reply with something raunchy, he would surprise you with something heartfelt. It was as though he knew exactly where to hit in order to get you a little closer to buckling, every time. As time went on he had become so devoted to your back and forth that you noticed he had gradually abandoned all other efforts flirting with other women, to focus entirely on you.

You had to remind yourself that this was a game to him. An instinct, almost. It hurt to think of your relationship that way, but you had to keep that thought at the forefront of your mind if you didn't want to fall even harder for him.

So you would continue to play along, even if that's all that you could have with him.

You chose not to indulge him completely – that was too dangerous for you – and so you opted to bend a knee over the armrest of his chair. Close, but no contact. “Come on, Sanji,” you bent your head in what felt like a bashful manner and said, “you know I spent all day thinking of you.”

You weren't sure if he was blushing or if that was just your wishful thinking. Composing himself, Sanji wrapped an arm around you to hold your waist, lightly tracing circles on your hip. “I beg of you, darling – next time, come find me instead of just thinking of me. I'll make it worth your while.”

You wanted to ask, how will you make it worth my while? Just to hear Sanji go in to detail of what you've been fantasizing about for months. But instead, you opted for a tamer response. “I came to tell you we're docking soon. Maybe I'll find you then and you could make it worth my while with a drink.”

Without missing a beat, Sanji took hold of your hand, bringing it to his lips. “There's nothing I'd enjoy more.” With that, he kissed your hand, his eyes never leaving yours.

Docking started out normal. Everyone knew what their usual chores were when you reached a town, restocking and fixing so that the ship would be in top condition for its next leg of the journey in your search for the One Piece. So while Sanji went in to town to restock on groceries (you didn't pay much attention to the others), you, Nami and Usopp stayed around the ship to fix up some of the damage it took when you last encountered a rival pirate ship. That also happened to be the reason it was just you three when the same rival pirates noticed your ship docked, ready to take their revenge.

The three of you had your individual talents, but you just weren't enough to hold up against an entire rival crew. They had attacked so suddenly and so fiercely – it didn't take long before you were on the sand, fighting to stay conscious. You lost that fight as you watched Usopp try his best to fight off three attackers at once.

You really thought that would be the end for you. You should have known better; it was Sanji's voice you heard as you regained consciousness, motivating you to open your eyes despite the pain that flooded your body.

The beach area all around you was covered with pirates who were taken down, just like you – only that they were your enemies. You first noticed Nami's orange hair – she seemed to be taking care of a bleeding Usopp, his condition worse than yours. Following Sanji's voice, you found him holding the last one of the rival crew by his shirt, throwing punches like you've never seen him before. It took you aback – thinking about it, you had never seen Sanji use his hands in combat. Too precious – need them for cooking, he'd once told you before adding, the only thing more precious to me is you. It had made you blush at the time before you had laughed him off. Now, you were questioning if it was a joke at all.

The man Sanji was holding wasn't putting up a fight – he was far too battered for that, but Sanji didn't stop. He was too far away for you to understand what he was saying to the guy, but focusing hard, you could just about make out half sentences – "to hit a woman" – "don't deserve to breath" – "finish you" – you searched for the strength to get up and stop him. You had never seen Sanji – your happy, cheerful Sanji – so angry, feral even. It scared you a little; but mostly, you knew Sanji would regret it if he were to kill a man who no longer posed a threat. So you grasped at the sand, forcing your aching bones to pick yourself up. But as you were regaining your balance, Sanji finally threw the man to the sand, a look of disgust painting his handsome features. "Finally made a date with her and you ruined it... You hurt her. You're lucky I don't kill you." The man groaned in pain.

In a sharp change, his features went from anger to concern as he finally left the man and turned to where he last saw you laying. His eyes were full of honest pain, until he saw you on your feet – then they read of hope. "Y/n!" Sanji called, rushing to you as he could see your struggle to stand upright. "You- I-" he scanned your body as he reached you, taking in all visible injuries. "Are you – are you okay? Can I help you?" he reached an arm around your waist, waiting for your approval before he held on to help you stay up, so afraid he might hurt you.

"Thanks." his arm around you really helped you to stay up. It was a practical measure, sure, any one of your crew mates would do the same – but when you look up and meet Sanji's eyes, you know that the tense feeling between you two wouldn't have been replicated with anyone else. "I mean it. You saved us. We'd... I'd be lost without you." at that, Sanji smiled that deep-dimpled smile of his at you, the playfulness not reaching his still-concerned eyes.

"Y/n," he started. "are you really flirting with me, at a time like this?"

It was strange how despite all your injuries, you felt less and less of the pain the longer you leaned in to Sanji, close enough to smell his fragrance. A half-smile reached your lips. You couldn't play this game any longer. "Did you really beat that guy up that bad because he ruined what should have been our... date?"

Sanji tensed, obviously not ready to have this conversation now. His gaze dropped momentarily before he wrapped his other arm around your waist, holding you tightly to him. "I had a hundred reasons to kill him," Sanji said, and you felt disappointment bubbling through you until he continued, "but the most pressing reason is that he ruined our date."

Sanji took the opportunity to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear and you couldn't help but smile so big you were embarrassed by it. "I really wanted that drink with you, away from the ship and everyone else. Just us."

You recomposed yourself. You needed clarity. "I'm not playing anymore, Sanji."

Sanji chuckled. "Fancy that. I was never playing at all."

You must have forgotten how to breath at all when he leaned down, his hand finding a rest on your neck as his thumb caressed your cheek. Nearly a whisper, he asked – "Can I kiss you?"

You leaning in served as the consent he searched for. After months of pining over each other, wondering what it would be like – his lips met yours, in a mixture of softness and passion like you'd never felt before. Forgetting you were injured at all you sneaked your arms around his neck, pulling him in, almost afraid of letting this anticipated moment of passion go. Sanji was more than happy to pull closer, a hand on your lower back holding you impossibly close to him.

The moment did, however, find its end as you heard your Captain whoop and holler from afar. "Yeah! Way to go, Sanji! About damn time!"

Breaking the kiss, Sanji nodded at Luffy, his smile lines prominent as he looked the proudest you'd ever seen him.

The crew was more than happy to make a quick exit that night, preferring to not stay around until the rival crew regained their strength. You were helping Nami untie the ropes anchoring the ship to the dock when she said, "I really thought he was going to kill him earlier." you didn't know how to respond. "I've never seen Sanji like that." Nami managed to untie a knot, and Zoro began pulling the rope up on to the ship. "He's really got it bad for you."

Despite that questionable context, you couldn't help but smile. In a burst of honesty you confessed; "I hope so, because I've got it real bad for him, too."

On cue, the ship's chef leaned over the ships railing, looking down to you. "Y/n, my love!" he called, as though the rest of the crew wasn't surrounding the both of you. "I hope you're finished down there, because I've got a candlelit dinner waiting for you up here. And drinks. You know, to make it worth your while," he finished with a wink.

From behind Sanji you could hear Luffy ask, "What about our dinner? Just because you're lovers now doesn't mean we don't need to eat..."

Sanji sighed and turned away from you, probably to go protect your dinner before Luffy demolished it.

"Right then, let's go," Nami said as you finished untying the last rope. "While there's still food to eat."

And for the first time, you boarded your ship not to find the One Piece or the All Blue – you were just happy to be there, with the man you loved.

[autolenaphilia]

Edit: as hoshi9zoe pointed out, the original version of this post needlessly berated other transfems like Jennifer Coates, for which I do apologize, and I have toned it down in this edited version. The original version survives in reblogs.

Some months ago, I was searching through this transandrobro blog to see if they posted a callout of me, and i found this reblog, which I couldn't really write about for months, because what do I even write. I recently wayback machined it for posterity, and I guess this is my attempt to write a post about it.

It's saint-dyke himself, the coiner of transandrophobia, saying that the infamous (at least for me) article "I am a transwoman. I'm in the closet. I'm not coming out" is what made him coin the fucking word. It's literally bolded and underlined: "Reading this article is what made me coin “transandrophobia”.

The reason I put off writing this post is that reading that article makes me feel like i'm drinking poison. And it is poison, make no mistake, it's internalized transmisogyny brainworms dripping out of the writer's brain and onto the page.

It's a justification for why the author, known by pseudonym Jennifer Coates, doesn't want to transition, despite knowing she is a trans woman. And it's the exact kind of internalized transmisogyny that keeps trans women in repression and not transitioning. "I'm not going to pass, i'm forever going to be an ugly freak who will at best be humored by other women, the closet is uncomfortable but at least it's safe"

It's the same exact bullshit a lot of represssed trans women tell themselves because it's what society tells us about trans women, that we are freakish parodies of women, that we will never pass, and if we don't pass we have failed and are ugly freaks. It's all to scare us into staying in the closet and make others hate and fear us. Transmisogyny permeates our society, and the majority, maybe all transfems will absorb and internalize some of it.

Coates says that it all is just applicable to her, but again so many transfems believe this shit before transitioning and realizing it's a pack of lies. If this bullshit was in any way valid, a lot of trans women shouldn't transition, because before we actually transition many of us believe it word for word. And "it's only true for me" is how we justify it to ourselves. We tend to be way harsher on ourselves than others. This kind of self-hating transfem tends to think: "Other trans women are beautiful graceful goddesses, earthly manifestations of the divine feminine, always destined to be women, while I'm an ugly forever male ogre who just has a fetish."

It's all bullshit, it's poison, it's internalized transmisogyny.

And the rest of the article is bullshit too. It is not some insightful mediation on gender as some people say, it's the author confusing and mixing up actual transmisogyny with an imagined problem of misandry. She does this because she has gone full repression mode, and decided she has no other choice to live as a man, so her dysphoria and experiences of transmisogyny are actually men's problems.

It's a bad article, excusable because as Coatas points out, it's "essentially a diary entry." that was meant to be a way to "vent frustration" and she "did not intend for anyone else to actually read it." It is clearly not the product of a healthy mind.

I hope the author sometime in the past seven years eventually did transition, and that for whatever reason she didn't want to publicly repudiate her own article. Maybe she lost access to the medium account so she can't delete it.

Far worse than the article itself is the response to it. I've seen it passed around as some insightful commentary on gender by the "feminists are too mean to men, misandry is real" crowd. I have argued against this before. And other people have made insightful comments about it.

And learning that saint-dyke claiming that he was inspired to coin the word "transandrophobia" because of this article is the cherry on top of this shitcake of transmisogyny. For my thoughts on "transandrophobia" theory and how transmisogynistic it is, see here.

Of course, Saint-dyke absolutely could be bullshitting here. Claiming that Coates's article is what inspired him to coin the word might be a lie to claim that transandrophobia theory is not transmisogynistic because it came from listening to trans women.

This is why "listen to trans women" doesn't work. Because TME people will always choose a trans woman who confirms their prejudices. Blair White has made an entire career out of this. And Coates article is popular because it says that misandry is real and trans women's issues are partly caused by it, misgendering herself and other trans women.

And it's popular for another reason. Coates has thoroughly internalized transmisogyny, and thus her article presents a trans woman that is exactly as transmisogynistic patriarchal society wants her to be. She is suffering, but ultimately accepts her assigned role. She truly believes that her biological sex dooms her to forever be male. She literally "manages her dysphoria by means other than transition" as conversion therapy advocates want us to do. She never makes an social claim on womanhood by actually transitioning, so she doesn't invade the sacred women's spaces. Yet she performs the role of woman perfectly by serving men, by defending them from supposed feminist misandry. And she fulfils the ritualistic role that the rhetorical figure of "trans women" sometimes serves in progressive spaces, of giving a blessing to TME people's pre-existing views and actions, all while actual flesh-and-blood trans women are destroyed by those same deeply transmisogynistic spaces. This time it's a blessing for the same "misandry is real" soft-MRA bullshit that has infested the online left and created the transandrophobia crowd.

That is why this article and the positive response makes me sick, makes me feel like i'm drinking poison. This is what its fans want trans women to be like. I'm acutely aware this kind of self-denial is exactly what transmisogyny wants from me and tried to indoctrinate me into doing it. And I want none of it. I want to live, I want to be a woman.

[joelmillerisapunk]

my dirty little secret

no outbreak bfd!Joel Miller x f!reader

masterlist

↳ Wordcount: 5,422

↳ Summary: Since staying at the Millers, you've done nothing but tease Joel, seeing just how far you can push him. Joel's tired of it and decides it's time to take control of the situation.

~ Or ~

↳ Joel's tired of being hard all the fucking time while you're around and gives you a taste of your own medicine.

↳ Warnings: 18+, soft but dom, large age gap (make it your own 🩷), teasing, unprotected p in v, use of "daddy, baby girl, good girl" slight use of "slut" and "brat"

↳ Notes: Hi, this is the first fic I've ever posted anywhere and the first smut I've ever written. I'm scared beyond belief, but I hope you enjoy 🥰 dividers by @saradika-graphics. This was inspired from many different songs and that scene in preoutbreak where Joel's on the phone with Tommy in the gif I horribly made but it gave 'me giving daddy a nice treat while he's on the phone'.

Joel tried to avert his gaze,  but it was near impossible when you left the door halfway open.  It seemed like an intentional act, a performance meant solely for him. The way you nonchalantly slipped off your shirt, your bra following suit, revealing your bare shoulders and neck, was a sight that he couldn't ignore. He knew he shouldn't be watching, that it was wrong on so many levels. You were significantly younger than him and, more importantly, Sarah's best friend. But when your jeans dropped to the floor, and you bent over to remove them, Joel couldn't help the surge of blood that rushed to his cock.

He yearned for your panties to join the pile on the floor. As you started putting on your pajamas, he remained transfixed, watching your hips sway as you donned the tiniest pajama shorts he had ever seen, and the t-shirt from the previous night. He felt an urgent need to leave before you realized he was there, watching. But he couldn't bring himself to move.

Ever since you started staying with him and Sarah, you'd been a constant presence in his dreams. He couldn't fathom why, but the thought of you was never far from his mind. The dreams were always so vivid, so real, and they left him yearning for more. He wasn't sure if it was you or your presence that attracted him. But the urge to reach out and touch you, to feel the softness of your skin under his fingers, was becoming increasingly difficult to resist.

In his dreams, he'd already crossed that line, reaching out to you, pulling you close. His cock twitched at the memory, and he groaned softly, his imagination running wild. When he finally opened his eyes, he realized you had finished dressing. He quickly left, hoping to escape before you caught him. But the image of you, half-naked, was burned into his mind, a sight he knew he wouldn't be able to forget anytime soon.

As soon as you were certain Joel had left, you tiptoed to the door, peeking around the corner. Seeing no one, I giggled to myself and closed the door. The thought of Joel had been consuming you ever since you first met him and Sarah during your first day of college. Watching him lug around heavy boxes, his thick arms straining with the effort, had sparked something within you. You couldn't help but imagine what those large hands would feel like on your body.

So, when you found yourself in need of a place to stay, you couldn't have been more grateful for the Miller's hospitality. They welcomed you with open arms, offering you a room as long as you needed it. And you couldn't resist the urge to test the waters, to see just how far you could push Joel.

In your mind, you were determined to break him, to make it impossible for him to resist you. Every glance, every touch, was a calculated move on your part. You wanted him to see you, to really see you, and to want you just as much as you wanted him.

Your mind wandered back to the way his eyes had lingered on your body, the way his breath had caught in his throat. It was a small victory, but it was enough to keep you going, to keep pushing the boundaries.

The morning sun streamed through the curtains, casting a warm glow on your face as you slowly stirred from your slumber. The scent of pancakes and coffee wafted up from downstairs, mingling with the faint sound of music coming from down the hall. Your bed was soft and inviting, but you knew you needed to start your day.

You made your way to the bathroom, still half-asleep, eager to take a quick shower and start your day. But as you opened the door, you were met with an unexpected sight. Joel was in the shower, completely unaware of your presence.

You hesitated for a moment, unsure of what to do. But you couldn't resist the temptation to take a peek. You positioned yourself behind the privacy wall, peeking around the corner just enough to catch a glimpse.

Joel was soaping himself up, completely oblivious to your presence. You couldn't help but notice the way the water droplets slid down his muscular arms and chest, tracing a path through the greyed hairs that decorated his body. You imagined what it would be like to run your fingers down his toned chest, feeling the strength and warmth of his body beneath your fingertips.

The sight of him took your breath away, and you couldn't help but feel a stirring of desire deep within you. You had always found Joel attractive, but in that moment, you realized just how much he had been consuming your thoughts.

Joel suddenly turned off the shower and turned around, catching you mid-peek. Your eyes were still glued to him, and you couldn't help but stare at his god-like form, his body dripping with water. He couldn't help but smirk at you, his muscles glistening in the light.

Joel started walking toward you, stopping inches from your face. You could smell the body wash he had been using, and you felt your heart racing in your chest. You were frozen in place, unsure of what to do.

"Sorry, Mr. Miller, I thought the shower was free," you said, your voice barely above a whisper. Joel just smiled at you, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

"It's okay, darlin', I don't mind the company," he said, gently touching your face. You felt his strong hands on your skin, and you couldn't help but close your eyes for a moment, enjoying the embrace.

Joel leaned closer to you, his face almost touching yours. He put his other hand around your waist and pulled you against his wet, naked body. You could feel his warmth radiating off of him, and you couldn't help but shiver in anticipation. "Mr. Miller - I," you started to say, but Joel interrupted you mid-sentence, covering your mouth with the hand resting on the side of your face.

"Shhhh," he whispered, pressing his lips against your ear. You shivered slightly as he sucked softly on your earlobe, sending goosebumps up and down your spine. He began to stroke your hair, and he whispered again, "You can't help it, can you? You wanted this, didn't you?" His voice was husky and deep, and it sent shivers down your spine. Your heart was racing, and you couldn't help but nod your head in agreement.

"You been with a man before?" he asked in a low voice as he moved his lips further south and down your neck. Joel's tongue flicked out lightly, grazing your collarbone, and you sighed at the sensation.

But you quickly remembered Joel was asking you a question, and you had to answer honestly.

You shook your head, "No" you squeaked quietly, "No sir," the truth was you had been with other men before, but they were no men compared to who you were with right now. Joel chuckled a bit, his cock definitely growing now.

"Oh sweet girl, I'm gonna show you how a real man's supposed to take care of you," he said, his voice low and husky. Suddenly Joel pushed you against the tile wall and pinned your hands above your head. He kissed you deeply, then moved his lips down your jaw, neck, and collarbone, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

As soon as Joel caught you peaking behind the wall, he lost all resolve. He knew you were playing some game, but right now all he could think about was getting inside you. With you in his arms, pressed against the wall, Joel pressed his lips to your neck, breathing you in and letting out a groan. Your nipples hardened in anticipation through the fabric of your thin pajama shirt.

Just as Joel was about to take you to his bed and fuck you senseless, he heard Sarah's rushed footsteps making their way up the stairs. Without wasting another second, Joel carried you to the shower and turned it on, hoping to muffle any sounds you might make. The water was cold at first, but Joel quickly adjusted the temperature, and you gasped as the warm water cascaded down your body.

"Dad? Breakfast is ready. It's gonna get cold!" Sarah called out, clearly wondering where Joel was.

"Uh yeah sorry kiddo, I'm coming," Joel called back, his voice strained with restraint. As he turned the shower off, you tried to pull his hand off your mouth, but his grip only tightened.

"Hurry up!" you both heard before the rushed steps back down the stairs. Joel let go of your mouth and pulled you to his bare chest. He buried his nose in your neck and inhaled deeply. You moaned in contentment.

"I think it might be time for me to get out, baby girl," Joel murmured, his voice low and husky. He could feel how needy you were, and he was desperate to get inside you. Your body warmed furiously, and you nodded against his shoulder before slowly pushing yourself away from him. Before leaving the shower, he grabbed your chin in his hands and tilted it, forcing you to meet his gaze. "Daddy's gonna take care of you, don't worry." He grinned before wrapping a towel around his waist. He left the bathroom, leaving you to get dressed and compose yourself.

After your little encounter in the shower, Joel couldn't help but steal glances at you throughout dinner. He sat across from you at the table, trying to maintain his composure as he listened to Sarah chatter on about her day. But his thoughts kept wandering back to you, to the way you felt in his arms, to the way you responded to his touch.

He couldn't help but feel a twinge of guilt for betraying Sarah's trust, but he couldn't deny the feelings that had awakened within him. You were a breath of fresh air, a ray of sunshine in his otherwise mundane life. You made him feel alive, and he couldn't help but be drawn to you.

You tried to focus on the conversation, but you couldn't help but steal glances at Joel as well. You couldn't help but think about the shower, about the way his body felt against yours, about the way he looked at you with such intensity. You hadn't even kissed him yet, but you couldn't deny the attraction you felt towards him.

Taking advantage of the distraction, you allowed your foot to brush against Joel's under the table. You felt him stiffen slightly, but he didn't pull away. Instead, he subtly moved his foot closer to yours, letting you know he was enjoying it.

As Sarah kept talking, you couldn't help but let your mind wander. You imagined what it would be like to kiss Joel, to feel his lips on yours. You imagined what it would be like to run your hands over his body, to feel his muscles tense beneath your fingertips. Before you knew it, your foot had made its way up Joel's inner thigh, stopping just short of his hardening cock. Joel jolted in his chair, trying to maintain his composure as he felt your foot against him.

He tried to shift in his seat to create distance, but your leg always seemed to find its way back. This time, it made its way to the tip of his very hard cock. Before he could think, he quickly put his hand on top of your foot to hold it down. But it was too late. Sarah looked confused when he did so, and Joel just smiled at her apologetically. He couldn't say anything because he felt like he might come any second. When he finally regained his composure, he cleared his throat awkwardly.

"I'll clean up in a bit, need to use the washroom." Without missing a beat, he bolted out of his chair and was walking a little too fast upstairs.

After your footplay under the table, Joel excused himself and went upstairs to collect himself. When he returned, he found the kitchen cleaned up and you sitting on the couch. He sat down next to you and asked, "Where's Sarah?" You looked over at him, smirking playfully. "She said your cooking made her sick."

Joel laughed at your comment and moved closer to you. He brushed his finger along the soft flesh on the inside of your thigh, causing your breath to catch in your throat. "You're playing a dangerous game little girl, and I think you know that." He whispered huskily against your skin, leaning closer to you until his lips touched your neck. He gently nibbled your earlobe before whispering, "But, I don't mind playing dirty."

He placed his mouth softly against your earlobe, causing you to shiver with anticipation. His hand was now moving further and further up your inner thigh until it just brushed over your throbbing clit. His lips still hovered by your ear. "You're quite the little brat, aren't you?" He murmured. "Thinking you can tease me like that, huh? Gotta play by my rules right now, I'm in charge tonight... and you're gonna behave, is that understood little girl?"

But you were still feeling a little defiant. You wanted to see just how far you could push him. You pulled away, keeping your face inches from his. "You think you can tame me?" You questioned, watching as his eyes darkened slightly. Joel grabbed your face roughly with his calloused hands, causing you to back down a little in surprise.

"I don't like the word tame. I prefer the word... break." He said, his voice low and commanding. "If I'm gonna take charge, I'm gonna take it completely. I promise you, you're not gonna be wild by the end of the night. Not with the way you've been goin' around acting like a little slut. I'm not gonna sit back and watch you throw yourself at me. I'm not gonna be satisfied just sitting there waitin' for you. I'm gonna fuck you until you can't walk. I don't plan on being patient tonight, so unless you want me to take you right here, right now..."

Before Joel could finish his sentence, you heard footsteps begin to descend the stairs. Joel immediately released your face and turned towards the staircase. You stood up, your heart beginning to pound wildly in your chest as rushes of adrenaline and arousal rushed through you. Joel stood up as well, taking a deep breath and attempting to steady himself. He glanced at you, and you could see the hunger in his eyes. You bit your lip, staring nervously back at him, 

The footsteps grew louder as Sarah descended the stairs, and it felt like time slowed as you both waited for her to make it down. She looked at the two of you suspiciously. "Uh, hey. Was just gonna watch a movie." she pointed to the couch where you and Joel had been sitting.

"Well, I think I'm gonna turn in early. I'm feeling a little tired. Enjoy your movie." You said, before heading upstairs. Joel's gaze watched your figure retreat up the steps, and he turned back to Sarah. "I got some paperwork to catch back up on. Enjoy your movie kiddo." He walked past Sarah and headed upstairs.

He was going to go to his room but something made him want to check in on you. So Joel approached your door and let it creak open slightly. To his dismay, you weren't there. Probably in the bathroom, he thought.

So he headed back down the hall to his room, and when he opened the door, there you were, on his bed.

Joel's jaw dropped slightly when his eyes connected with yours. He could barely focus on anything other than you, how you were lying, how you were breathing, how your hair looked, and how perfect your body was. Joel slowly closed the door after him and took a couple of slow steps toward you. You laid perfectly still, watching him with wide doe eyes - the ones of a tease, a brat who needed a real man to take control of her...and Joel was gonna deliver.

Joel made a quick glance to his door, before turning back to you. "Are you trying to kill me?"

"Nah, I just thought you deserved a little surprise." You teased, while letting your hand run delicately down your body and under the band of your shorts. Joel was done with your games, your teasing. He was about to fuck you like you had never been fucked before. The look in your eyes was almost as arousing as the way your hand worked its way down your body.

You were giving him a look that screamed submission. It said you would do whatever he said if he only commanded it of you. So he leaned down, grabbing a chunk of your hair roughly in his hand, forcing your head upwards, causing you to gasp in surprise and arousal.

"You do exactly what daddy says, and I'll treat'ya real good baby." Joel, as if on cue, reached his other hand underneath your shorts. His fingers found their way to your pussy, lightly caressing you through the fabric of your panties. You couldn't help whimpering and moaning. Joel began massaging more intensely, increasing your pleasure with each second. It was all too much, and Joel was enjoying every second of it. Your moans became higher pitched and more desperate as he continued, "Daddy please."

 When the words "Daddy please" came from your sweet lips, Joel couldn't help but smile. A rush of heat landed in his abdomen, and he knew he had to take control of the situation.

He took his hands off of you and backed away from the bed completely. He sat in the chair in the corner and slowly undid his belt, letting it fall to the floor. "Come on, be daddy's good girl and get undressed."

As he sat there waiting, he continued to unbutton his pants and release the zipper. He never took his eyes off you as he let his cock free from the confines of all material. You couldn't help but whimper a little at the sight.

"Come on now, nice and slow baby, give daddy something nice to watch." He motioned for you to start undressing.

You stood from the bed and started with your top, ever so slowly lifting it over your head and letting it land beside you. As soon as your top hit the floor and your breasts were exposed, Joel let out a pleasurable groan.

You walked closer to Joel and grasped the waistband of your shorts. As soon as your tank top fell, and you walked toward him, you felt Joel place his hands on your wrist. "Let daddy help you."

With your wrist still in his hand, he led you to the chair he just got out of. "Bend over," he ordered. Joel pulled the chair closer, so he could reach your ass. You let out a shaky breath as he knelt behind you.

He slowly removed your shorts and panties, taking his time to admire every square inch of skin that came through. Finally, the materials were down your ankles and hitting the floor. Joel let out a deep primal moan, almost a groan at the sight, at the perfect globes sitting inches from his face.

When the words "Daddy please" came from your sweet lips, Joel couldn't help but smile. A rush of heat landed in his abdomen, and he knew he had to take control of the situation.

He took his hands off of you and backed away from the bed completely. He sat in the chair in the corner and slowly undid his belt, letting it fall to the floor. "Come on, be daddy's good girl and get undressed."

As he sat there waiting, he continued to unbutton his pants and release the zipper. He never took his eyes off you as he let his cock free from the confines of all material. You couldn't help but whimper a little at the sight.

"Come on now, nice and slow baby, give daddy something nice to watch." He motioned for you to start undressing.

You stood up from the bed, your heart pounding in your chest as you slowly lifted your top over your head, letting it fall to the floor beside you. As soon as your top hit the floor and your breasts were exposed, Joel let out a low groan of pleasure.

You walked closer to him, your legs feeling like jelly as you grasped the waistband of your shorts. As you began to slide them down, you felt Joel's hands on your wrist. "Let daddy help you," he said, his voice deep and husky.

With your wrist still in his hand, he led you to the chair he had just been sitting in. "Bend over," he ordered, his voice leaving no room for argument.

You did as you were told, bending over the chair and exposing your ass to him. Joel pulled the chair closer, so he could reach you better, and you let out a shaky breath as you felt him kneel behind you.

He slowly removed your shorts and panties, taking his time to admire every inch of your skin that came into view. Finally, the materials were down your ankles and hitting the floor. Joel let out a deep primal moan, almost a groan at the sight of your perfect ass sitting inches from his face.

You weren't sure what you expected when you came into Joel's room, but here you were, face down, ass up on his bed. When Joel's large hands found their way onto the curves of your ass, squeezing tightly, you couldn't help but let out a gasp and whine.

You lifted your hips slightly, trying to relieve the ache forming between your legs. You could feel Joel's warm breath against your inner thighs as he teased you, inching upward to your clit.

Ever so lightly, he swiped his tongue over your clit, and the feeling sent waves of shivers shooting down your spine. You began to buck your hips up against his lips, trying to encourage him to continue. But Joel stopped suddenly and moved up, planting a kiss on your shoulder.

"Now let's see your pretty little mouth get to work, hmm?" he growled huskily into your ear.

You whimpered, not sure how to answer, too much in a lust overload, unable to speak or even process any coherent thoughts. Joel could tell you were caught up in the moment, gently guiding you to your knees so you were facing him.

"Come here," he demanded, his voice low and commanding.

Without hesitation, you crawled forward, positioning yourself between Joel's legs as he sat back on the chair. You placed your hands on his thighs as he guided you to kneel before him.

Once you were positioned, Joel bent forward, his hands reaching out to tangle in your hair. He guided your head down towards his lap, and you couldn't help but moan at the sight of his hard length in front of you.

You wrapped your hand around him, feeling the velvety smoothness of his skin over the steel hardness beneath. Joel hissed in pleasure as you began to stroke him, your hand moving up and down his length.

"Open your mouth," Joel commanded, his voice low and husky.

You obeyed, parting your lips and letting him guide himself inside. You could feel him hit the back of your throat, and you struggled to suppress your gag reflex as he began to move in and out of your mouth.

Joel's hands tightened in your hair, pulling slightly as he thrust deeper. You could feel him hitting the back of your throat, and you tried your best to relax and take him in.

You could feel the saliva pooling in your mouth as you sucked him, your hand still moving in time with your mouth. The feeling of him in your mouth, the taste of him on your tongue, it was all so intoxicating. But before you could take him over the edge, Joel's lips met yours in a fiery kiss, his tongue parting your lips and exploring every inch of your mouth. It was a kiss full of passion and desire, a kiss that made your head spin and your heart race.

His hands roamed your body, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. You moaned as he cupped your breasts, his thumbs teasing your nipples until they were hard and aching for more. Joel broke the kiss, his lips trailing down your neck and across your collarbone. You gasped as his teeth grazed your sensitive skin, sending shivers down your spine.

His hands were everywhere, touching and exploring every inch of your body until you were trembling with need. You couldn't help but whimper as his lips found your nipples, his tongue swirling around them before he sucked them into his mouth. Joel's hands travelled lower, cupping your ass and pulling you closer. You could feel his hard length pressed against you, and you couldn't help but grind against him.

"Please, Joel," you whispered, your voice barely audible. Joel's eyes darkened as he looked at you, his voice low and commanding. "Beg for it. Beg for what you want baby."

You whimpered, your mind hazy with lust as you tried to find the words. "Please, Joel. I need you. I need you inside me." His plan to have you please him orally was quickly forgotten as his overwhelming desire for you took over, he needed to have you. Now. Joel stood up, pulling you to your feet. Joel's grip on your hair tightened as he pulled you to your feet, his eyes blazing with desire. "You want me inside you, baby?" he growled, his voice full of raw need.

"Yes daddy," you whimpered, your body trembling with desire.

"Good girl," he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear. "You're such a good girl, begging for what you want. Say it again.”

"Want you inside me, Joel. Please," you begged, your voice barely above a whisper.

Joel's hands travelled down your body, cupping your ass and lifting you up. You wrapped your legs around his waist, your core pressing against his hard length. "Is this what you want?" he asked, his voice low and husky.

"Yes, please, Joel. I need you," you moaned, your nails digging into his shoulders.

Joel walked over to the bed, laying you down on your back. He hovered over you, his eyes locked on yours as he slowly entered you. You gasped as he filled you, your body stretching to accommodate him.

"You feel so fucking good, baby," Joel murmured, his lips trailing down your neck as he continued to thrust into you. "So tight, so perfect."

"Yes, Daddy," you moaned, your hips meeting his thrust for thrust. "You feel so good inside me."

"Beg for it, baby," Joel commanded, his voice low and dominating. "Beg daddy to make you come."

"Please, Daddy," you begged, your voice trembling with need. "I need to come. Need you to make me come."

Joel's thrusts became harder, faster, his pace matching the desperation in your voice. You could feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge, your body tense with pleasure.

"Come for me, baby," Joel growled, his voice commanding. "Come for Daddy now."

With one final thrust, you came, your body convulsing with pleasure as you tried to stay quiet.

"Good girl," he murmured, his voice full of satisfaction. "You're such a good girl, coming for Daddy like that."

Joel pulled out of you, leaving you feeling empty and wanting. But before you could protest, he flipped you over onto your hands and knees.

"Daddy's going to take you from behind now," he growled, his hand coming down on your ass with a sharp smack.

You couldn't help but moan at the sting, your body tensing with anticipation. Joel positioned himself behind you, his hard length pressing against your entrance.

"You ready for me, baby?" he asked, his voice low and husky.

"Yes, Daddy," you whimpered, your body trembling with need.

With one swift thrust, Joel was inside of you, filling you completely. You couldn't help the way your body trembled with pleasure.

Joel's hands gripped your hips, holding you in place as he began to thrust into you. Each movement sent waves of pleasure crashing through your body, your moans and whimpers filling the room.

"You like that, baby?" Joel asked, his voice full of raw need.

"Yes, Daddy. It feels so good," you gasped, your body begging for more.

Joel's thrusts became harder, faster, his pace matching the desperation in your voice. You could feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge, your body tense with pleasure.

"Come for me again, baby," Joel commanded, his voice low and dominating. "I want to feel you come apart around me." Joel's fingers dug into your hips as he continued to thrust into you, each movement causing you to moan and whimper with pleasure. He could feel your body tensing up once again, your walls clenching around him as you got closer and closer to another orgasm.

"That's it, baby. I want to feel you milking my cock with your tight little pussy," Joel growled, his voice full of raw need and desire.

His words sent you over the edge, your body convulsing with pleasure as you screamed out Joel's name into your own hands, to try to keep quiet. You felt him pulse inside of you, his warm release filling you up as he reached his own climax.

Joel collapsed onto your back, his breath hot and heavy against your neck. He wrapped his arms around your waist, holding you close as he caught his breath.

"Fuck, baby. You’re such a good girl aren't cha?" he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear.

You couldn't help but smile, your body still trembling with aftershocks of pleasure. 

Joel slowly pulled out of you, leaving you feeling empty and wanting once again. But before you could protest, he turned you over onto your back and climbed on top of you.

"I'm not done with you yet, baby," he growled, his eyes blazing with desire.

He captured your lips in a passionate kiss, his tongue exploring every inch of your mouth as his hands roamed your body. He trailed his lips down your neck, across your collarbone, and down to your breasts.

He sucked one nipple into his mouth, teasing it with his tongue before moving onto the next. You couldn't help but moan, your body responding to his touch once again.

Joel's hand travelled lower, his fingers finding their way to your clit. He began to rub slow circles around it, causing you to gasp and writhe beneath him.

"Please, Joel. I need more," you begged, your voice trembling with need.

Joel's fingers dipped inside of you, curling up to hit that perfect spot. He began to thrust them in and out of you, his pace matching the urgency in your voice.

You could feel yourself getting closer and closer to another orgasm, your body tensing up as you reached the edge.

"Come on darlin’ I want to feel you come all over my fingers," Joel commanded, his voice dominating.

With one final thrust of his fingers, you shattered and your body convulsed in the same motions it had the last two or three, or - you had lost count at this point.

Joel pulled his fingers out of you, bringing them to his mouth and sucking them clean. You couldn't help but watch him, your body still trembling with aftershocks of pleasure.

"Mmmm, you taste so fucking good, baby," Joel murmured, his eyes blazing with desire.

He collapsed onto the bed next to you, pulling you into his arms and holding you close.

"I think I'm gonna keep ya around," Joel chuckled.

You couldn't help but smile, your body still trembling with pleasure. "I think I'm gonna let you," you whispered back. 

You weren't sure what the future held for the two of you, but in that moment, you were happy. You closed your eyes  as you snuggled closer to Joel, feeling safe and protected in his arms.

Thank you for reading. Take a second to let me know what you thot and I'll send you pictures of my baby cows 🐮🥹

[dcxdpdabbles]

Do you mind updating Alfred's boy? I just fell in love with your work and can't stop thinking about it lololol especially with Wes and Danny crushing on Jason as everyone else is crushing on Danny

It's the most complicated love shape I've seen since Miraculous and I can't get enough 💖

Bruce is working on some late-night emails.

He chose not to go out as Batman tonight just because his kids had a lot of pent-up energy they needed to release on some unsuspecting crook, and he got behind in his civilian persona.

Bruce also wanted to keep an eye on Wes and Danny. The day after the Opera, Danny took it upon himself to take Wes out into the city again, showing him not only Batburger but also the city's sights and arcade.

Alfred booked them both an entire afternoon in Gotham's most luxurious spa as a gift for Danny's hard work. When Danny and Wes came back, both seemed to be glowing and frankly, Bruce wouldn't be surprised if they had turned heads on their way home.

Danny made his children break their necks when he walked by the family room with a laughing Wes. After spotting Danny in a very uncharacteristic move, Damian even walked into the living room wall.

Jason had laughed so hard he choked on his spit. It took every year of training for Bruce to catch Damian mid-jump to save Jason from his younger brother's worth.

It was only the knowledge that Wes was a civilian staying in the manor and that if he saw them in a fight, their covers would be blown, stopping Damian from attacking Jason further.

Bruce was getting tired of this romance novel setting he found himself in. His children haven't stressed him out this much in years. Okay, that's a lie.

They always stressed him out, but usually, it was due to them making a stance against crime. Not a random young man who was dating (secretly) the object of their affection.

Wesley Weston was a delightful young man despite everything. Bruce would almost approve of him if it weren't for the fact that he seemed aware of the Wayne children's hostility and edged it on by being extra cuddly with Danny.

He was delighted for Danny to have a friend who had been making him this happy, but all good things must end. This would be Wes's last night in Wayne Manor.

Tomorrow, Wes will board a plane back through Clockwork's unique gate and be gone from their lives until he can visit again. That could take a while, as Alfred had informed him that Danny's parents were becoming a nuisance.

That could mean any number of things, but the most obvious was that Danny's location needed to stay hidden. No one could contact him from his home.

Bruce sighs, wondering how the boy will handle the news. Alfred chose to wait until Wes was out of the manor so his charge would not break down in front of his friend. It would mean the world to Danny, who closely held his emotions to his chest.

A knock interrupts his thoughts.

"Come in," Bruce calls, wondering who it could be. He is surprised to see a shy redhead pop his head in. "Wes, what are you doing up this late?"

"Sorry to bother you, Mr. Wayne. I couldn't sleep," Wes says, scruffing his feet on the carpet. He takes a moment to gather his strength, then straightens out his back. Bruce braces himself, feeling he won't like what the boy has to say. "I wanted to talk to you about assigning Danny a medical cuddle buddy."

Bruce blinks, feeling well out of his depth. Was that new teen lingo? "A medical cuddle Buddy?"

"It's like an emotional support animal." Wes starts, gesturing with his hands in a flip-flap sort of motion. Bruce noticed Danny tended to do the same when making an explanation. A culture thing? "His emotional, mental, and even physical well-being plummets when he goes too long without cuddling."

Bruce had concluded the same.

Over the last two days, he noticed that Danny had seemed far happier than the weeks he had been in the Manor. At first, he just assumed it was because he finally had someone who understood what he was going through. But now it was clear that it wasn't just the excitement of having Wes around. Danny looked as if he was healing from a long-term lack of nutrition.

It was not a lack of food, as Alfred would never allow anyone to go hungry under his roof.

There had to be something else.

"Danny isn't human," he ventures, watching Wes' body language. At once, the boy tensed up, a dark look in his eye and a precise curl of his lip indicating protective intensity. Bruce closes his laptop, curls his finger under his chin, and leans on them, giving his full attention. "I have no issues with Danny being anything other than human. But I need to know what I have to provide him to keep him healthy."

We hesitated for a long moment, staring back at Bruce like he was weighing the billionaire's soul. His intense eyes bore into Bruce's, flickering around his face as if trying to find a lie in his statement.

Eventually, the boy hesitantly responds. "Danny is part human. The other half is a being that relies on certain emotions to feed. The most common one is fear, which is why his parents tried to kill him when they found out his kind. Fear-based beings are...dangerous, so it was understandable even if it sucked."

Wes's face twists into a hateful and sad expression that lets Bruce know the kids are attempting to rationalize Danny's parents' behavior. He would make sure to tell Alfred not to allow the boy any contact with them. They held too much power over the kid.

"Danny isn't a fear-based than," Bruce prompts, to which Wes rapidly shakes his head.

"He isn't! Danny is....well, he's love-based. He feeds on different versions of love. Have you heard of the eight ancient Greeks' type of love?"

"I have"

Wes rubs his arm, looking relatively young for his age. "Danny feeds on Agape and Philia the most. He used to feed a lot on Storge, but well...you know how that turned out."

He did, indeed.

Does this mean Danny had already been cut off from a significant food source his people needed? Did it also mean that Danny wasn't the Fenton's by blood? How could they not know he was half of another being?

He needed answers to all the questions, but the most important one still resurfaced: "How does Danny feed?"

"Usually through physical contact. Emotions aren't corporal; they are felt through a body like a ripple in the water. When Danny touches someone who shares Agape or Philia with him, the ripples transfer from the contact to his core." Wes explained looking mroe sure of himself. "When I first arrived, Danny looked half-starved. He would have collapsed had it not been for Clockwork sending me."

That's alarming. "What could have happened if he went too long without any love?"

"His core would explode."

"And a core is?"

"Think of it like Danny's heart. It pumps his body with the energy his people need to survive. If it fails, Danny dies."

The last sentence hangs in the room like poisonous gas. Bruce feels his chest squeez at the mere thought that Danny would pass from soemthing they could easily provide for him. "I'll make sure that doesn't happen."

Wes cracks a shaky smile. "I figure you wouldn't. You seem like an okay guy. Can you make sure none of the ones feeling Eros towards Danny are his cuddle-buddy? I don't think his heart is ready for that just yet."

"Of course." Bruce was thinking of Alfred, Cass, Dick, Jason, and himself. All of them would quickly provide the emotion Danny needed. He tells Wes this with what he hopes is an assuring smile.

Wes shuffles his feet nervously before he yells, "Not Jason."

"Why?" Bruce asks, mystified.

"Danny might...um, have a crush on him." The boy mutters almost too low for Bruce to hear. He then glances up with a look of panic. "You can't tell Danny I told you!"

Bruce feels a headache coming on. Of course, out of all the children who had a thing for Danny, the boy chose one of the few of his kids who did not feel the same way. Knowing his son, Jason would probably think it was flattering but would gently let the boy down due to his age.

Jason refused to date anyone outside of a four-year difference from him in any direction. Danny was in for a painful confession.

Wait.

"Wes, what would happen if Danny experienced heartbreak? How does that affect his people?"

Wes blinks, confused, before shrugging. "I guess they die of heartbreak?"

Great.

I'm going to have to make Danny stay away from my second eldest like another stereotypical villain in Jason's romance novels. Bruce rubs his eyes. Or get him together with one of the others who actually likes him. Ugh.

He'll have to discuss things with Alfred. After all, that was his boy.

[muffinpink02]

Cravings

Okay, this is my first little family/baby story. Its my first attempt at fluff and cute stuff, I hope it makes sense. Let me know what you think. I've already started another one so hopefully you like this.

Summary - You’re pregnant, married to Alexia. Your cravings get you a little emotional. Just little bits and pieces of your pregnancy and Alexia helping you every step.

Warnings - swearing

You stood on your tiptoes as you rummaged in your snack box, trying to look for your latest obsession.

“Babe! Where are those salted caramel chocolates we got? The gold packet ones?” You shouted for your wife as you scanned the cupboards. 

Being pregnant wasn't as bad as you thought it would be. Yeah, your body had completely changed, and your mind had gotten foggy, and your emotions were hard to keep up with and you struggled to do simple things like put your shoes on. But, having Alexia as your wife made the whole experience worth it, the girl was a saint. 

When you were around 6 weeks pregnant you had suffered with some morning sickness, though thankfully it didn't last too long. When you were rushing to the bathroom at 4am, flopping to your knees, trying to get your vomit in the bowl on time, Alexia wouldn't be far behind you. She would always be by your side, rubbing your back as soon as she heard you jump out of the bed. 

“It's okay, amor. Here’s some water, clear your mouth.” 

You rinsed your mouth, washing the taste of acid from your tongue. She helped you back to bed, stroking your cheek until you fell asleep against her chest. She would always feel so bad for you, she hated watching you in any kind of pain.

Then came the cravings. At first it was anything sweet and juicy. You became obsessed with fruit, the berry family in particular. Blackberries, blueberries, raspberries if it had a ‘berry’ at the end of it you had to have it. And your most favourite berry was strawberries. You found yourself going through a pack of the sweet fruits every 2 days. 

Anything with the flavour of strawberry you had to have. Strawberry ice cream, strawberry jam, strawberry drinks, strawberry sweets, you even changed your lips gloss to strawberry. If it had a trace of strawberry then you had it in your mouth. Alexia joked that the baby was going to come out with red skin and green leaf’s for hair.

The fixation then progressed to strawberry milkshakes. You discovered the obsession when you and Alexia were out in town, you had both stopped to look at a display in the shop window. But your attention was caught by a whole other shop. Alexia hadn't even realised you had gone until she noticed she didn't get a response to her question.

“What do you think? ….Bebé?” 

The blonde looked to her side where you had just been standing, she only had to look a few shops down, when she caught you watching the milkshakes being made in the other window. She smiled as she walked over to you, eyeing your ever growing belly as it poked out under your t-shirt. 

“Want a milkshake, amor?” Alexia wrapped her arms around you, her warm body pressing into your own.

“Yeah, a strawberry one.” You smiled as you felt her kiss your cheek.

So, Alexia brought you a milkshake, asking for extra strawberries without you even having to ask.

The milkshake obsession then became something you wanted, no, needed everyday. 

So, in the mornings before training Alexia would make your strawberry milkshake alongside her protein shake. You didn't know how, but the girl would always make the fruity drink so much better than you ever could, no matter how hard you tried, hers always tasted sweeter.

As soon as you found out you were pregnant you stopped playing for Barca and went on maternity leave. And of course Alexia became super protective over you, though it wasn't a shock to you when she did, she was protective with you before you even became pregnant. 

Slowly you had to reduce your personal training as you got further along. Alexia watched you like a hawk when you wanted to do any kind of weight training, making sure you never did anything over 5kg. She would take regular walks with you and even joined your swimming classes, as they were deemed ‘safe’ enough for her. 

She insisted on carrying all the bags when you went grocery shopping, not letting you carry anything that could potentially ‘hurt’ you or the baby. Though you secretly loved the extra attention. Until Alexia wanted to build the baby cot alone, because she was scared you would hurt yourself with the hammer, and you had to put your foot down. 

Alexia was also amazing with her hands, and not just for other things. If you ever complained about a painful back or sore feet she would be on you in seconds, massaging your muscles until you couldn’t even remember the ache you had. She would run you baths, make your favourite dinners and always make sure you and the baby were getting your vitamins. 

She was simply the best, you saw a whole new side to her, you didn't think it was possible but it made you fall in love with her more everyday.

Anything you wanted to buy for the baby the Spaniard would look into the product, and study the reviews for hours, making sure it was good enough for the baby. If there was even one bad review from 3 years ago she would ask you to look for another one. “Just in case, amor.”

She of course brought every book you could read on pregnancy and child care, reading them at night before bed. Telling you all the tips and tricks it had for expecting mothers. You listened while you stared at your wife, her serious tone was on but you could only watch her beautiful features as she spoke, making you wonder what parts the baby would get from her. 

You hoped they got everything from her.

One afternoon you came back from a shopping outing with Ingrid. You both walked through your hallway, but was stopped in your tracks when you saw a new gate between the rooms, it was a baby gate. You looked at Ingrid who was already smiling, she knew what Alexia was like. 

“Ale, baby? What's this?” You called out.

The blonde skipped down the hall, a proud smile on her face. 

“It's for the baby, so it doesn't get into trouble.” She tapped the gate proudly, looking at the object like it was a brand new Bentley. 

“But the baby won't be walking for a long time. I don’t know if we need this yet.” You chuckled as she eyed the bars.

“No, no. It's better to be ready. We can get used to it before the baby comes.”

“She has a point.” Ingrid chimed in.

“Sí. Ingrid gets it.” The blonde nodded at the raven haired girl. 

“If it makes you happy, then I’m happy. Now, open it up so we can get through.” 

Alexia moved to open the gate, but it wouldn't open for her.

“Wait, I think it's this way.” The blonde frowned as she tried to pull the handle. But still, she couldn't open it. “Cosa estúpida.” 

“Let me try.” You dropped your bags and attempted to open the gates yourself, but you couldn't do it either. 

“Why won't it open?” You sighed in annoyance.

“No, pull it. Pull that bit up. Towards you.” Alexia tried to direct you.

“I am doing that!” 

And just before you were about to have a domestic, Ingrid silently leaned forward and with no fuss opened the gate like it was the most simplest thing to do. You both gapped at the Norwegian, wondering what kind of trick she used to open it.

“Do it again.” Alexia stared at the gate, wondering how on earth Ingrid was able to open it.

Luckily by the 50th try you both had learnt to finally open it. 

Alexia hated leaving you in the morning when she went to training. She would wake up 20 minutes early just to have extra cuddles with you, or talk to your belly. Your heart would melt when she spoke to the ever growing bump. She had felt silly when she first started doing it, talking to a belly with a small human inside felt weird, but she slowly got used to it.

It actually became something she looked forward to, you would read or scroll on your phone as the blonde shared the events of her day with the bump, she even did it when you were fast asleep, having her own private conversation with the little human. And of course she spoke it in her mother tongue, there was no chance that baby wasn’t going to learn Catalan. 

One afternoon when you were five months pregnant she was talking to the bump, her face resting gently against the side of your stomach, stroking your skin. She promised the ‘Berry’ (as she liked to call it), that she was going to take them to all the Barcelona games and how she was going to train the baby to be a midfielder or striker, and definitely not a defender. 

You chuckled at her words. Earlier that day you had visited Alexia at training. All the girls excitedly greeted you, everyone wanted to feel your stomach, and you gladly let them, you had missed them all so much. 

“Sí, that's a defender in there, I can tell.” Mapi said confidently, smiling at you. 

“No, it's going to be a goalie.” Cata insisted.

You laughed as you watched Alexia’s face drop, the group then all started arguing about what position the baby would play, Alexia had sulked on the way home, but you only laughed at her pout. You were suddenly pulled from your memories. 

You both felt it. Alexia jumped away from you in an instant.

“Oh, Déu meu. Did you feel that?” She looked at you with wide eyes.

“Yes! It kicked!” You gasped as you touched the spot.

“Like a footballer! Berry has a strong kick!” She touched your belly in awe, staring at the bump. Then came another kick. The blonde gasped as you both felt the little life  wiggling inside you.

“That's definitely a striker in there.” She smiled playfully.

You rolled your eyes at the big child in front of you. 

“I love you, amor.” Her large hands cradled your bump, she looked at you with so much love it almost overwhelmed you. 

“I love you too, baby.” You whispered. 

You watched as she kissed your bump, you stroked her hair out of her face as her smile grew. You felt your own eyes water at the beautiful women in front of you. You couldn't believe that this was your life, you felt so lucky that she was the mother of your child.

By 6 months your cravings changed to everything salty. Peanuts, chips, crisps, pretzels, salty popcorn, you name it you had it. You added salt to nearly every one of your meals. Alexia had to conversacate the condiment out of fear of your obsession. 

Now you are 8 and a half months pregnant. You only had 2 weeks to go before the baby was set to arrive. So, now it was just a waiting game.  A long, uncomfortable waiting game.

“What ones?” Alexia walked into the kitchen. 

You looked through your snack cupboard, trying to find the chocolate you had become obsessed with. Your two cravings of sweet and salty had combined and got you into your new favourite obsession of salted caramel chocolate. 

“The ones we got the other day, I’m sure I bought 3 packets.” 

“You finished them, don't you remember? I even warned you that you didn't have any left after that.” She chuckled as she stroked your neck.

You felt your eyes prickle with heat, your tears making your eyes glassy. Of course you knew this wasn't a normal way to react just because you didn't have the chocolates you craved, but you were hormonal, and tired and everything hurt and your back was killing you and your feet were sore and the TV in the background was too loud.

“Oh.” Your voice cracked.

Alexia's eyes widened in panic. “What's wrong, bebita? Are you okay?”

You sniffed, you tried to hide your face as you felt the tears prick your eyes. God, you felt stupid. Crying over a chocolate bar. You felt Alexia’s hand travel to your back, stroking you with the softest touch. 

“Y-yeah, yeah. Sorry, I just really wanted th-” You couldn't finish your sentence as the hormonal dam broke. 

Alexia really panicked then. “Bebé. Shhh it's okay, don't cry. I can get you more.” She pulled you into her chest. “I’ll go get you a crate of them, please don't cry.”

You sobbed into her chest, you couldn't believe you were crying over this, you knew it was just your hormones, but you couldn't control it.

“I’m sorry Ale, I’m just… it's just everything hurts. I can’t get comfortable in any position. I’m hot then I'm cold. My bodies changed so much. I can’t even see my feet anymore! My boobs are killing me. I hate the smell of my favourite perfume and now I’m crying over fucking chocolate.” 

“Hey, shh it's okay. You don’t have to explain yourself. I’m sorry, bebé. Let me get your chocolate, and whatever else you want, we can get a take out tonight or I can cook your favourite meal. Does that sound good?” The blonde kissed your forehead. 

You nodded in her chest, you felt like a sulky child. At least you knew Alexia would be prepared when your child would have their tantrums, or she would just give in and give them chocolate.

“Good. Come sit down. I’ll run you a bath.” 

The blonde ran you a bath with your favourite bath soaks. The bubbles were nearly flowing out over the sides once she was happy with it. She helped you into the warm tub, stroking your hair back as you settled.

“Okay. I won't be long. Be careful when you get out okay.” 

You rolled your eyes and smiled. “I will Ale, thank you for this.” 

“Got to look after my babies.” She kissed your head and winked at you.

She closed the door and made her way to the shops for your chocolate.

You sunk into the hot bath, breathing in the sweet coconut bath milk that Alexia used. You already felt better, Alexia always knew what to do to make you feel at ease. She was always calm around you even when she wanted to panic. 

You laid for another 20 minutes soaking your muscles. You carefully made your way out of the bath, wrapping your fluffy towel around you. 

You began to get your joggers on when you felt a shooting pain, you grabbed your belly on the sharp twinge. Then another one came, but it was a lot less painful then the first. You took in a deep breath as you put on your t-shirt. 

Your doctor told you that you might potentially get pains closer to the due date. So you tried not to overthink it. You looked at your phone, Alexia should have been home by now. That's when you saw her texts.

Alexia - They don’t have the chocolates in the store, going to another one xx 

Alexia - They don’t have it in that one either, I’ll go to Summers.

Summers was over a half hour's drive, you didn't want Alexia to drive so far for a chocolate bar. You called her phone, she answered by the first ring.

“Hola baby, you okay?”

“Ale, you don't have to drive to Summers, it's too far.”

“I’m 5 minutes away now, it’s fine, amor. I know you want this. I know you would do it for me.”

You smiled. “Yeah, okay, well thank you, you’re the best.”

“I know.” You could hear the smile in her tone.

You rolled your eyes playfully. “Let's hope the baby gets your humble characteristics.”

The blonde laughed down the phone. “I hope Berry is every piece of you.”

You felt your heart melt at her words. The girl really knew how to make you melt.

“I’ll see you in a bit.” 

“Sí, i'll see you soon.” 

You hung up the phone and made your way to the sofa, trying to find something you could watch without ruining anything you and Alexia watched together. But as you clicked through the options you jumped with a flash of pain.

“Fuck!” 

The pain came again, quicker and longer. You panted as you felt the twinge trickle into your back, causing you to drop you to your knees, you gritted your teeth as the throbbing ache swept down to the bottom of your stomach.

“Owwwww! Shit!” You cried out.

You still had 2 weeks till your due date, surely this wasn't labour? It was just the pain the doctor told you about. Braxton hicks, that's what it was. You grabbed your phone, you tried to call Alexia but she didn't answer, because she was out getting your stupid chocolates! 

Then you called Ingrid. Your best friend. Her and Mapi only lived a 2 minute walk from you. Maybe they could drive you to the hospital. The line rang, Ingrid picked up after the third ring.

“Hello, sweet pea.” She sang down the phone.

“Hey, do you think- fuck!” 

Another sharp pain stabbed through your body.

“Are you okay?” Ingrid asked, panic in her voice. 

“Yeah, well, no. I’m in pain, I don’t really know what to do. Alexias half way across town and-”

“I’m coming over.” 

“Thank you, Ingrid. Sorry I don’t want to be a nuisance- oh my g-” You groaned as another sharp pain hit you.

“Mapi, get your shoes on. Stay on the phone, we’re coming now.”

“Okay.” You breathed out.

You put the phone on speaker as you cradled your belly. You could hear Mapi’s confused voice in the background. You pushed the whispers of hair out of your face as you felt your body start to heat up from the pain. Why did this have to happen now? 

The girls must have sprinted to yours as they were at your door just over a minute later. Ingrid let herself in with her spare key. You heard their feet as they rushed through your hallway.

“I’m in here gu- uys! Owww!” You groaned.

You felt Ingrid kneel beside you. Her hand instantly rubbing your back.

“How long have you had the pain?”

“Maybe 10 minutes.” You sighed.

“Do you think you're in labour?”

“No, the doctor said this would happen. I’m not due for another-”

Your sentence was cut short as you felt a stream of water coming from between your legs. You waters broke.

“No, no, no, no, please! Fuck. Not now!” 

“Ay dios mío!” Map shouted from the door. “We need to get her to a hospital!”

“Mapi, calm down.” Ingrid's tone was low.

The raven haired girl turned back to you, her face was calm but firm.

“Can you walk?” 

“Y-yeah, I think so.” 

“Okay, I’ll help you. Come.” 

Your best friend slid her arm under your own, helping you to your feet. 

“Okay good. Breath. Mapi, call Alexia.” 

Mapi stared at you with wide eyes, she looked more scared than you, to be honest she probably was. She hadn't even heard Ingrid’s instructions, her whole body stood still, frozen with fear. 

“Maria! Come on. Call Alexia.” Ingrid repeated.

Her brown eyes finally snapped to Ingrid. “Sorry, yeah. Call Alexia, I can do that.” 

The girl mumbled, panic setting over her shaky voice. You watched as she aimlessly patted her body, looking everywhere as if she had no clue what she was looking for. She finally found the device in her back pocket, she took a deep breath, looking for her best friend's name in her phone..

Ingrid looked at you. “Okay let's go.” 

You nodded your head, but as you took a step to walk the worst of the pain finally came crashing down. Your knees gave in once more as your muscles spasmed from the ache. 

“Fuck, Ingrid I can’t!” You groaned as you knelt to the floor.

Alexia smiled to herself as she slotted the big box of caramelised chocolates in the boot of the car. She was able to sweet talk the shop owner into selling her the large supply with a photo and signature. She felt so proud of herself, she couldn't wait to show you her little accomplishment. She got in the car ready to drive back home to you, that's when she looked at her phone to see Mapi calling. 

She pressed the green button as she lifted it to her ear.

“Hola-” The blonde flinched as the sound of your screams penetrated down the phone.

“Mapi? Wh-whats going on?”

“Ale, y/n’s in labour, you need to get back.”

“What? She’s not due yet.” Alexia felt herself panicking hearing your painful moans in the background.

“Her waters broke. She’s ready. We’re going to take her to the hospi-”

A deafening scream came from the depths of your stomach. There was no way you were about to move, not with the pain you were in. This baby was ready to come out. 

Mapi looked shell shocked as she held the phone to her face, her mouth gaping at you. “I don’t know if we’re going to make it to the hospital.” The defender whispered. 

Ingrid held your head, helping you move to whatever position you needed, she grabbed the big pillows of the sofa and tucked them behind your back, her calming presence was everything you needed right now but the one you wanted most wasn't here.

“Where is she? I nee-  ahhh! Oh my god it hurts so bad! MAPI! Tell Alexia to get home now!” You started to sob.

Alexia started her engine and her phone speaker on loud. “Mapi, tell her I'm on my way, I’m coming, I promise.”

Poor Mapi didn't know what to do, she looked at her girlfriend for help. Ingrid stroked your hair, your sweaty forehead making your hair stick to your skin.

“She's coming, sweet pea, isn't she Mapi?” Ingrid looked at her girlfriend urging her to say the right thing. 

“Y-yeah, Alexias on her way. She's already half way.” The defender stuttered. 

You threw your head back as another contraction rippled through your body. 

“Breath, try to breathe.” Your best friend stroked your back. 

“Mapi, let me talk to her.” Alexia said as she pressed her foot on the gas. 

“Sí, sí.” Mapi put the phone on speaker, allowing you to hear Alexia. 

“Bebé?” Alexia's voice rang over the speaker.

“Ale! Please, I need you. Come home, please!” You begged, hearing your lover's voice.

“It's okay, amor. I’m on my way. I’ll be there as soon as I can, I promise.”

“Okay.” Your lips quivered. 

“Mapi, keep me on the phone.” Alexia called out as she overtook some vehicles in front of her.

“Sí, I will. You're next to her now.” Mapi gingerly placed the phone on the table next to you. 

“I’m here okay, cariño?” 

“Yeah.” You whispered.

Ingrid stood up. “Mapi, comfort her, I’m going to call for an ambulance.”

“W-what? Me? B-but you’re so good at it.” 

Ingrid stroked her girlfriend's face. “You'll be fine baby, you can do it.”

Ingrid gave no room for argument as she started to call the ambulance service, walking out of the room.

Mapi slowly turned around, she had never been so scared before. Walking out to a stadium of 30,000 people was less scary than this. She took a deep breath before walking over to you. She slowly crouched next to your side, trying not to make any sudden movements as if she was in a cage with a wild animal. But in all honesty, you kind of sounded like one.

You felt her hand gently rub your back. “Can I get you anything? Water?” 

“Your hand.” You whimpered. 

Mapi smiled as she gave you her hand, but the smile quickly disappeared as you squeezed it with a force not known to man. 

“Dios mio! What have you been eating!” The girl cried out in pain.

Alexia couldn't help but laugh as she heard Mapi cry out. 

“I can hear you, puta!” Mapi groaned.

“Sorry Mapi, I just need you.” You sobbed as you looked at the defender.

That made Mapi smile even if she was wincing through the pain. But it made Alexia feel so guilty for not being there, even if it was out of her control.

“It's okay, breathe with me.” Mapi breathed out.

You breathed with her, but it didn't subside the pain.

Ingrid walked back in. “They’re on their way, but it won't be for another 30 to 40 minutes.

“What?!” You and Mapi shouted in unison. 

“I can't wait that long!” You cried out.

Alexia was driving as fast as she could without being too dangerous, she definitely went through a few red lights, only because the roads were clear enough, but she was more than willing to get a speeding ticket if it meant she could be with you.

“The operator said to remove your bottoms and get towels ready incase you have the baby.”

“I’m so scared, the baby’s not due for another 2 weeks.” Your voice was shaky.

“I know, sweet pea. Everything’s going to be okay, I promise.” The raven haired girl mustard up a brave smile but you could see through it, you could tell she was worried too.

Then you felt it. An agonising pain pushed right at your core. It was happening, the baby was coming. 

“AHHHHHH! It's coming!” You screamed. 

Alexia felt dread take over her body as she heard your pain.

Ingrid jumped into action, kneeling at your feet. “I'm going to pull your trousers and knickers off okay?”

You nodded. 

Ingrid quickly removed the clothing off of you. “Mapi, go get some towels.” 

Mapi went to move but you had a python grip on her hand. The defender eyed her girlfriend for help, too scared to ask you to let go herself. the Norwegian smiled sympathetically at her. 

“You may have to let Mapi go, honey.” 

You didn't even realise you were still holding on to her, you hesitantly let her hand go. You didn't miss the way Mapi winced as she stroked her own hand from the pain. 

“Okay keep breathing, nice deep breaths.” Ingrid said.

You followed her instructions, you tried to take deep breaths, but was cut short when another crippling contraction swept over your body. The pain was nothing you had ever felt before. 

“Erghh! Oh my god! It burns. It's coming, Ingrid!” 

Ingrid was between your legs, her green eyes popped open as she saw the start of your labour.

“Okay, I’m going to call again. I might need help.” She pulled her phone.

Mapi walked in just in time to see what Ingrid was talking about, you would have laughed if you weren't in so much pain. Her eyes bulged out of her head, like a cartoon character, her face turned to a shade of grey as she also saw the start of the birth. 

“Ay dios mío.” She whispered. 

Alexia heard Ingrid, she was only 10 minutes away, she was determined to get home to you. 

You screamed as you felt a deep pressure at the bottom of your back, it made you feel sick. 

“Where’s Alexia, I need her!” You cried out.

“I’m here, cariño. I’ll be there I swear!” Alexia said over the speaker.

Mapi then came back rushing over to you, the pain in your voice made her want to comfort you.

“Hey, need my hand?” The brunette smiled as she grabbed your hand.

You nodded at your friend, tears rolling down your cheeks. “Thank you.”

You took her hand as you felt Ingrid stroke your leg.

“Hello? My friends in labour. I can see the start of the baby.” Ingrid was on the phone to the operator. “Okay, thank you.”

Another jolt of pain hit you, making you squeeze Mapi’s already crushed hand. You watched her wince in pain, easing off her as much as you could.

“I’m sorry, Mapi.” You sniffled.

“No, no it's okay. I’m okay.” The Spaniard gritted her teeth as she tried to hold back her own tears.

The Norwegian put the operator on speaker. 

“Hello, I’m Julia. I’m going to talk you through the steps, okay? You’re doing great. Keep taking big deep breaths for me. How much of the baby's head can you see?” 

“I can see the baby's hair.” 

“Okay great. Can you tell me roughly a measurement?”

“Like 5cm?” Ingrid squinted.

“Okay. She’s going to be ready to push any minute now.”

Alexia was nearly home, 5 more minutes and she'd be there. Until she saw the police lights in her rear view mirror.

“Fuck!” She mumbled.

Alexia reluctantly pulled her car over to the side of the road. She quickly muted herself on her end of the call, not wanting you to hear the commotion. She tapped her finger anxiously against the steering wheel as she watched the police officer slowly approach her car. She rolled her window down ready to apologise and hopefully be on her way.

“You know you’re going over the speed limit- oh my god, Alexia Putellas! I watched your game just the other day, you played so well. How's y/n getting on? She must be close to having the baby now?” 

Before Alexia could answer you let out a high pitched scream over the speaker phone. The police officer looked at Alexia with a confused look.

“Yeah, that's actually her. That's why I’m rushing, she's in labour.” Alexia hoped that would be enough for the police to let her go.

“Oh! Oh right, why aren't you with her?”

Alexia stared at the police officer, was he really asking this?

“Erm, it's a long story, but it's why I was rushing.”

“Ah, I remember when my own were just born. There’s nothing like it.” The police man stared off into the distance, clearly reminiscing. 

Alexia smiled politely. She really didn't need this interruption.

“Ahhh! Fuck! It hurts!”  You shrieked over the phone speaker.

Alexia looked at the phone, your cries made her so anxious, she just wanted to be with you.

“Oh sorry, I’m holding you up. You get on your way. Try not to rush too quickly. Good luck with being a mama!” The police officer nodded as he went on his way, leaving Alexia to finally get home to you.

You couldn't believe this was happening. 

You were so scared that Alexia was going to miss the birth of your baby. Alexia had been with you every step of the way with the pregnancy. Every appointment, every scan, all the birthing class, she was there, holding your hand throughout it all. Now the mother of your child was out driving around town, trying to make you happy, all because you wanted a stupid fucking chocolate bar.

“Okay, give me a push.” Ingrid said.

You took a deep breath as you tried to push as hard as you could.

“Amazing, you're doing really well.” Ingrid smiled at you. 

“Well done.” Mapi gritted her teeth next to you, trying her absolute best not to sound in pain.

“Mapi, what’s going on?” Alexia shouted over the phone speaker.

Mapi jumped at the voice. She grabbed your phone with her free hand, her other hand was sweating in your own. 

“T-The babies coming.” Mapi stuttered from the pain.

“Merda.” Alexia muttered under her breath, pushing her foot on the pedal. 

“Okay, you’re doing it. I can see the top of the head! There's so much hair!” Ingrid smiled brightly. 

“There is hair Ale! The baby has hair!” Mapi repeated Ingrid’s excitement. 

Two more minutes and Alexia would be home. Just two more minutes. 

“Okay, another big push.” The nurse called out over the phone.

“Ready?” Ingrid stroked your knee, her eyes were on you, giving you a reassuring smile. 

You nodded, taking another deep breath. Your body was tired, everything hurt, and your bottom half was burning. It felt like something was ripping you apart. Like that scene from Alien. You just wanted Alexia to be here to tell you everything was going to be okay.

“Eerghhhh!” You pushed again. The pain was unreal. “No, no, no! I can't do it!”

“You can! You're doing so well! The heads out, I can see a face!” Ingrid shouted enthusiastically.

Alexia wheels screeched as she messily parked up outside, nearly forgetting to pull the handbrake up in her rush. She ran as quickly as she could to your front door, keys in hand. 

“Okay, if you can see a face you've done the hardest part. You're done really well. Another big push.” Julia’s happy voice chimed in.

Alexia rushed down the hallway, she easily jumped over the baby gates she had installed, cursing them as she leaped. She turned the corner just in time.

You looked up to see your wife standing at the door. Her face was similar to Mapi’s reaction.

“Ale.” You whispered, not having enough energy.

The blonde rushed over to you, she knelt by your side, pushing your hair off your sweaty cheeks.

“I’m here, baby. I’m right here. You’re doing so well.” She kissed your sweaty head. 

You nearly started to cry, your emotions bubbled to the surface, finally having your wife with you in the scariest and happiest moment of your life. 

She brought your hand up to her lips, kissing you as she looked into your eyes, you could see she was scared but you couldn’t miss the love she had for you.

“You ready? Another push.” Ingrid asked from your bottom half. 

Alexia squeezed your hand, reassuring you. “You've got this, baby. You can do it!”

You took another deep breath, readying your body to do what seemed impossible.

“That's it! Push, push, push, push! It's coming!” Ingrid spurred you on.

Your whole body shook as the little life entered the world.

And she was loud.

“Oh my, god. You did it!” Ingrid laughed in disbelief.

You looked down to see a tiny little baby, crying in Ingrid’s hands. 

You felt Alexia grip your hand, you looked up at the blonde, she was gazing at the baby and you swore you saw her fall in love. She was smiling from ear to ear, her hazel eyes starting to tear up.

“I can hear crying, that's amazing. Wrap the baby up, cover the head, and place the baby on mum's chest.” Julia instructed. 

Ingrid did just that, she gently and neatly wrapped your daughter up placing her on your chest. 

“A little girl.” You whispered, tears rolling down your cheeks. 

You looked up at your wife, she had tears rolling down her cheeks, as she looked at the baby on your chest. 

“She’s so beautiful.” She whispered as she kissed the top of your head. “You did so well. Are you feeling okay?” 

“I’m fine, just tired and sore.” 

She brought her lips to yours, kissing you gently. “I love you, amor. I’m sorry I wasn’t here.”

“Don’t be sorry, it wasn’t your fault. Besides, I had two very good midwives. You smiled as you looked at the couple who were now sitting next to each, smiling at your little family. 

Alexia chuckled. “Thank you so much chicas. How’s your hand Mapi?” 

“It’s seen better days, but I’m glad I could help.” The defender smiled as she pulled Ingrid closer to her.

“Do you have a name?” Ingrid asked. 

You and Alexia looked down at the already settled baby, then back at each other.

‘Rudy.” You both said in sync. 

“Rudy Maria Putellas. I like it.” Mapi smiled before Ingrid started rolling her eyes.

“No, just Rudy Putellas.” Alexia smiled, not taking her eyes off the baby.

“But, we do want to ask you guys something.” You looked at the couple in front of you. Ingrid was already smiling and Mapi looked scared all over again.

“Would you like to be Rudy's Godparents?” Alexia asked.

“100 percent, yes.” Ingrid smiled so hard her cheeks resembled a chipmunk.

You looked over at Mapi, her eyes had glazed over, she looked like she was about to cry.

“Mapi, are you okay? Are you crying?” Alexia asked in a teasing tone, smiling at her friend.

“Huh? What? Allergies. Do you have a cat? I’m allergic.”

“Mapi, we have a cat.” Ingrid smiled sympathetically at her girlfriend, knowing the girl was clearly just emotional to be asked to be a godparent.

“Hello? The door was open. Did someone call an ambulance for a mother and baby?” The ambulance crew arrived. 

“And a broken hand!” Mapi called out, rushing to the front door.

Ingrid rolled her eyes. “She’s a big softy, she would love to be a godparent to Rudy.”

You and Alexia chuckled, but your attention quickly went back to the baby on your chest as she started to squirm.

The paramedics checked you and baby Rudy over, everything was looking great, but they still took you in to get checked by the doctors and a couple hours later you were allowed to leave. 

You and Alexia gave Rudy her first bath together, laughing as she sneezed in the baby tub. Alexia dried her off and took her to her room, she got her nappy on her and creamed her little body.

“Okay, baby grow.” You mumbled as you looked through her draws.

“I actually have one mind.” Alexia looked guilty suddenly, smiling at you playfully.

She reached into another draw and pulled out a Barcelona home kit baby onesie. She turned it around to show your number on the back. Her dopey smile looked at the kit then back at you. You felt yourself go completely giddy. You looked at the woman in front of you, her proud smile made your heart melt. In that moment you felt so complete, you had your little family in front of you, with the woman that you loved with all your heart. 

“Do you like it?” She asked as she moved back to Rudy.

“I love it. I love you, Ale.” You kissed her cheek as she began to dress Rudy.

“I love you. I love both my girls.” She bopped Rudy's nose.

Finally, you got the baby down in her cot, thankfully she was already fast asleep. You smiled as you looked at her face, you could already see Alexia’s features in her. You both stood over the cot, staring at the little bundle in front of you.

Then you remembered something.

“Ale?” 

“Hmm?” 

“Did you ever get the chocolates?” 

[l4mplight]

Miquella and Trina; A Tragedy

Hey Tumblr. I have a lot of thoughts about Shadow of the Erdtree, and these ones... let's just say I don't think they'd do well on Reddit. It's not often that I feel particularly impacted by a particular fictional character. Usually I connect more with narrative arcs and themes, which is why I think I'm so drawn to the ephemeral, vibes based storytelling of Fromsoft's games. Playing through SOTE, though, I found Miquella (and St Trina) to be extremely emotionally compelling and relatable, and I wasn't sure exactly why. I think I've put my finger on it now though. First of all, know that I am writing from the perspective that Miquella is a sympathetic character. I know that it's not uncommon to read him as a manipulative Machiavellian villain, but I think that's both a misreading of the text as well as just plain boring. Like, he's not a Griffith clone you guys, give From some credit. Anyway, here we go.

"You have no understanding. Of Miquella the Kind. Of St. Trina's Love.

Content Warning: I'll be discussing themes of depression, and the implication of suicidal ideation.

So, a classic Fromsoftware theme is despair, and the ways we cope with a world full of it. It shows up twice in Shadow of the Erdtree; with Midra and the Frenzied Flame, where despair leads to a selfish nihilism that asks us to burn everything down, and with Thiollier and St Trina, who offer sleep as a comfort to the weary. Running a small errand for Thiollier has him say the following.

"If you find yourself… weary of the weight of this life, then just give me the word. Sleep is a balm, and eternal sleep… is an elixir."

Drinking the elixir he offers will, of course, result in an instant death. This is our first encounter with the idea of "Eternal Sleep," a more potent form of the sleep status effect that only appears here in the Shadowlands, after St Trina has been abandoned. The Velvet Sword of St. Trina tells us as much: "Silver sword of St. Trina, now stained the color of velvet. Inflicts eternal sleep. When St. Trina was abandoned, the faint, light-purple mists coalesced into an intoxicating deep-purple cloud." In order to ascend to godhood, Miquella abandons first his physical body, and then the more abstract aspects of himself. As we begin to descend down the fissure where we'll find Trina, a cross marks the spot as the place where Miquella abandoned his love. This connects Trina, "the discarded half" as Thiollier puts it, with Miquella's love. Leda confirms this in her own dialogue:

"St. Trina's love for Kind Miquella is boundless. She is, after all, his other half. Or perhaps her feelings go beyond even that. Even if she was left behind, I doubt her heart would waver."

Keep that in mind, it'll be relevant later.

Near the cross, a spirit offers up some of the most heartbreaking dialogue I've come across so far. The spirit gives us a bigger picture of Miquella's goals:

"Kindly Miquella... I see you've thrown away... something you should not have. Under any circumstances. How will you salvation offer... to those who cannot be saved? When you could not even save your other self?"

I teared up at this. The emotional impacted was aided by the fact that I ran into the spirit right after telling Moore to put his past behind him, leading him to rededicate himself to Miquella. He says:

"Hm. Maybe that’s Kindly Miquella’s love. Love for all the unloved. Love, to banish the pain."

Note here that Moore suggest Miquella's love will "banish the pain." This is also essentially what Trina's sleep does. It's a comfort to those in need. Anyway, between these two instances, we end up with a pretty good picture of the sort of god Miquella wants to become. He was already sympathetic to the outcasts of The Lands Between in the basegame, where he built Elphael and the Haligtree as a haven for those rejected by the Golden Order, such as the Albinaurics and Misbegotten we find there. In the Shadowlands, he has gone a step further. Hornsent tells us that he has committed himself, in essence, to righting Marika's wrongs.

"Miquella has said as much himself – he wishes now to throw it all away. He says the act – though undoubtedly painful – will sear clean the Erdtree’s wanton sin. The truth of his claim can be found at each cross. 'Tis evidence enough to earn my belief."

Of all of Marika's children, Miquella is the only one to see the serious flaws in her empire. Ymir points this out to us as well.

"No matter our efforts, if the roots are rotten, then we have little recourse. Ever-Young Miquella saw things for what they were. He knew his bloodline was tainted, his roots mired in madness. A tragedy if there ever was one. That he would feel compelled to renounce everything when the blame lay squarely with the mother."

My thinking here is aligned with Mother Ymir. You really have to feel for Miquella; he has essentially taken on, alone, the responsibility of making up for centuries of Golden Order imperialism. That's a massive burden to bear, especially for Miquella, cursed with eternal childhood.

(It's easy to miss, but Miquella actually ages up significantly when we see him in god-form. Until he steps back through the Divine Gate, he would have looked and sounded like he does in the introductory art and in ending memory scene. Compare those with how he appears in the boss fight, and it's clear godhood at least helped him reach puberty lol) So we've established that Miquella is the child of Imperial Rome on Steroids, is cursed with eternal childhood, and is an empathetic prodigy with the weight of the world on his shoulders. Surely his mental state is perfectly healthy, right? Right??

Final warning, this is where things get quite sad. Here is where I will try to tie Miquella's arc together with Thiollier and St Trina, and the comforting oblivion and relief from despair that sleep represents for them.

As we search for St Trina, we descend down into the Stone Coffin Fissure. This is a place of death, with massive coffins built into the fissure walls, and Gravebirds, Bloodfiends and Putrescent enemies everywhere. St Trina is found at the deepest possible pit of this fissure, in a swamp of putrescence that has since blossomed into a garden of deep velvet lilies because of her influence. Trina offers us nectar of "eternal sleep," as Thiollier did previously, and as established then, "eternal sleep" is essentially nothing more than a peaceful death. Trina seems to fit in quite well in this place of ancient dead things, with some of the ancient remains even being compelled to fight for her in exchange for eternal rest, becoming the Putrescent Knight.

(Side note for levity because we're about to get sad again; I love this guy. It's a knight made out of the skeleton of a horse, riding on that same horse's decaying flesh goop body. Like, ugh. Beautiful. Plus, it may even have taken that shape because of Trina sharing Miquella's memories of Radahn, who was never far from his horse Leonard...)

We meet St Trina in her garden, and when we imbibe her nectar, we eventually begin to hear her voice in our death-dreams. She seems to pity him. Mourn for him, almost.

"Make Miquella stop... Don't turn the poor thing into a god..."

Trina appears to be in a bad state after her fall. She can only manage to get a few words across to us at once. Just as Leda predicted, her heart hasn't wavered. She is only concerned with Miquella's well-being.

"Godhood would be Miquella's prison. A caged divinity... is beyond saving."

Trina's most pressing concern is that godhood will be a prison for Miquella. Now, this could in theory be because gods are subject to manipulation from the Fingers and the Greater Will or a similar reason, but given that she calls him a "poor thing," I think there is likely a more emotional reason behind Trina's plea. I think that Trina is speaking as the embodiment of Miquella's love, but especially his ability to love and care for himself...

"You must kill Miquella... Grant him forgiveness."

...and she asks us to kill him.

In excising Trina from his being, I think Miquella also expelled the part of himself that was able to recognize how miserable divinity would be for him, and how miserable he was. The part of him that was tired of carrying the responsibilities that his compassion demanded of him. The part of him that was exhausted, despairing and desperate from having failed to cure Malenia, failed to save Godwyn, failed to perfect the Haligtree. St Trina is the part of Miquella that wanted to be stopped, to rest, to sleep, to die. In abandoning her as he does, Miquella is essentially repressing those thoughts and feelings, replacing them with more "selfless" ones; self-sacrifice, suffering on behalf of others, his martyrdom and apotheosis. I don't want to forget about "grant him forgiveness" either. She might mean forgiveness for failing to become a god, for not being good enough to succeed Marika and right her wrings. Maybe forgiveness for failing Malenia and Godwyn, or for leaving the Haligtree behind. Maybe even for abandoning her. But on the road to godhood, Miquella can't afford to indulge in this sort of self-pity. A child craves forgiveness and approval, a god must cast these things out.

"I'm feeling rather lost. Haunted by memories. Of St. Trina. Her visage. Her scent. The lure of velvety sleep. Would Kindly Miquella chasten me? For falling for St. Trina, while knowing that she was the discarded half? The problem is… I simply cannot help it. I would sacrifice everything, just to gaze upon her, one last time."

I want to mention Thiollier one more time here too. His primary visual motif is the long white braids that he wears on his clothes, reminiscent of Miquella and Trina's own signature braids (remember, she looked like an older feminine Miquella before her fall and injury). Thiollier is obsessed with Trina, pursuing her to hear her voice and fade into the comfort of her velvet sleep, though this doesn't kill him like it does us. I don't think Thiollier is connected to Miquella in any textual way, but I think he does serve as a reflection of the sorts of thoughts Miquella may have been surpressing. The self-pity, the need for approval and love, the feelings of weakness and uselessness. These are the things that lead Thiollier to pursue endless slumber.

Thiollier doesn't give in to that despair, however. Though he initially takes St. Trina's words... poorly, he eventually realizes what must be done, and dedicates himself to his new purpose: carrying out her final wish.

"I am here to serve St. Trina evermore. I am deeply sorry. For doubting you. I am here only to grant St. Trina's singular wish. I will stop Miquella the kind. He will never become a god."

This post is already quite long, but I also want to mention the obvious gender stuff going on here. There are a number of moments that make it seem as though St. Trina might actually be more than just "half" of Miquella. Firstly, as she is shown falling in the story trailer, Leda is describing how Miquella abandoned his fate, as if Trina had a vital role to play in Miquella's future. It also seems as though Trina isn't cursed in the same way that Miquella is; her voice and size indicate that she is at least more substantial than his "infant form," and she is depicted in "adult form, somewhat unnervingly" on the Torch of St. Trina. Furthermore, her "adult form" has a third eye in the middle of her forehead. The third eye is a symbol of enlightenment in both Hinduism and Buddhism; it seems that Trina has achieved some level of wholeness in this depiction. Meanwhile, when Miquella achieves godhood, his eyes remain permanently shut. He also appears to have only one physical arm. He holds Radahn with two incorporeal arms while casting with his real right arm, but his left arm appears to fade away to nothing before the elbow, as if unfinished. Miquella's blindness and asymmetry here, I think, reflect how unbalanced and incomplete his divinity is without Trina.

One more hint towards St Trina being a part of Miquella's future lies way back at the Haligtree. In Malenia's bossroom, just above where Miquella's cocoon was once embedded into the tree, the branches and roots appear to form a silhouette. This could be Miquella, Trina, or both, but I do see a certain resemblance to Trina's depiction on the torch in the way the "hair" covers the eyes. Given that Miquella's body appears to have grown a decent amount inside of the cocoon when we see in at Mohg's palace, it's possible that the cocoon situation was his original attempt to cure himself of his own curse, or perhaps become a part of the Haligtree itself. In the Shaman Village, Marika's home, there is a similar scene. A woman's body that resembles Marika seemingly mummified within the hollow of a tree. I honestly have no idea what to make of that just yet, but I thought it worth a mention.

So, with all that in mind, abandoning Trina seems to be even more significant. Not only has Miquella divested himself of his love and his fate, but maybe even his future, too. Being eternally nascent, he is always in a state of potential, after all. Am I suggesting that Miquella is a transfeminine character? That he was meant to grow up to become a goddess in the aspect of St. Trina, or maybe even more like Marika than he already is? Well, maybe. If you find it compelling, then absolutely. Fromsoftware's storytelling is always ambiguous, and is always design to leave us some room to read and interpret, to really play in the space we are given. Personally, I do find it compelling in a horribly tragic sort of way, fitting for the setting. It's also entirely possible that I have rather self-indulgently projected some of my own angst onto these character. I likely have, to be perfectly honest. It's rare that I really connect with a set of characters or a story like I have with this lot, and I hope that maybe some of you reading this will feel similarly. If you have read this far, thanks <3

[fallingformatt]

FIRST GLANCE M.S. PT. 1

Matt x fem!reader

summary: while walking to the bar with your best friend you accidentally bump into Matt, then later you unexpectedly bump into him again, leading the two of you to do unholy things.

warnings: FILTHY ASS SMUTTT!!! unprotected sex, oral (fem receiving), fingering, overstimulation, slight degradation, slight praising.

word count: 2.9k

a/n: Thank all of you so much for the love on the last post, as I started writing literally so recently it means a lot to me. Also these scenarios keep popping up in my head and I write them down immediately and just work on them till I’m finished, so yea Im posting three days in a row. THIS IS SO GOOD DOE, not proofread.

➽───────────────❥

"But I have nothing to wear," I whine as I plop down on my best friend's bed. She really wanted us to go out to this cute bar she found on TikTok.

"Wait, I have something in my closet perfect for you," she said excitedly, pulling out a black mini dress. "It's just a black mini dress, what so special about it?" I ask with a confused look plastered on my face. "It's not the dress that's perfect," she says as she starts to dig around her closet again. "It's what you're going to wear with it," she exclaims.

"Found it," she says and excitement can be heard in her voice. She pulls out a box that has 'GUCCI' written on it. She pulls off the lid and there are a pair of tights in there. "Oh those are really pretty," I say as she opens the packaging for the first time. "That's not the end of it," she says swiftly turning around as she gets on her tippy toes to reach the highest shelf of her closet.

She manages to reach and pull out this little, red shoulder bag that screams money. "See it's not always about what you're wearing, sometimes it's about how you accessorize," she says happily clapping her hands together.

We both do our makeup and our hair while listening to music, chitchatting, and drinking some wine. As I finish my makeup and hair I get up to put on the outfit my best friend picked out for me. "Be careful with the tights, don't ruin them," she turns her head and says. "Don't worry, I won't, thank you for the cute outfit," I answer. "Glad to get you out of the house," she says as she also stands up finished with her makeup, and takes her clothes to change into.

We both step out of the house, ready to go to the bar, enjoy a few drinks, and maybe take some cute pictures for Instagram.

The city is lively, people walking down the streets, the sun almost gone, as the streets get darker. A bit tipsy from the wine we had, we walked, headed to the bar as it's not far from her place, our elbows intertwined as we continue to talk about everything that comes to our minds occasionally letting out a small laugh when one of us tells a joke.

My head is turned to my friend as she's retelling the story about her most stupid hookup, and I can't stop laughing. One moment I'm laughing about my friend's story and the next I feel myself trip over a pebble as I lose my balance. My body doesn't meet the ground, instead, it meets someone's chest. I quickly lean back to stand on my own feet again. I look up and my eyes meet the most beautiful guy I've ever seen. I look at him as I study his features, the fluffy hair, the silver earrings, his light stubble, and finally my eyes meet his, his icy blue eyes I could drown in.

I snap back to reality as I hear his voice "You okay there?" he says, his voice just as attractive as his looks. "Yeah sorry," I say as my friend pulls me to her. "Come on let's go," she says still holding onto my elbow and we walk past this beautiful stranger. As we're walking, I turn my head back to look at him and our eyes meet for the last time as we walk further away from each other, both walking in opposite directions.

We get to the bar and order some drinks, we sit down and look around. The bar really is cute, the ceiling is covered in flowers giving the place a fairytale vibe. I look to my side and notice this huge mirror that's covered in pink bows. "We have to take a picture there," I say as my eyes light up.

We're now 3 drinks into the evening and the guy from earlier crosses my mind. His face, his voice, his eyes. I could imagine him in between my legs as he eats me out giving me pleasure out of this world.

"Hello, are you listening to me?" my friend asks as she waves her hand in front of my face. I snap back to reality and look at her. "Did you hear anything I just said?" She asks. "You cockblocked me," I say furrowing my brows. "What do you mean?" She asks confused. "The guy I bumped into, he was totally into me," I say confidently. "Oh come on, that interaction lasted 2 seconds," she said laughing. "It was enough to make me understand that I need to be dicked down tonight," I answer. "Do you want to go to the club?" She asks. I nod my head happily. We finish our drinks and head out.

We walked around 5 minutes before we were in front of the club's door. Loud music can be heard as we walk in, lights shooting and changing color as we walk deeper into the club. My friend takes my hand as she pulls me into the dance floor. "This is my song," she exclaims as we both start dancing.

Feeling the light buzz the alcohol gave me, I close my eyes and move my hips to the rhythm of the song. I put up my hands as I get lost in the song dancing my heart out.

When the song finishes and I open my eyes, my best friend is nowhere to be seen. I try to move past all the people on the dance floor in an attempt to look for her.

As I walk towards the bar, I feel my ass brush against someone trying to get past the crowd. I turn around and look up. My eyes widen, not believing who I'm looking at.

It's the guy from earlier, the one who broke my trip and didn't let me fall to the ground. His eyes meet mine as a lustful smile appears on my lips.

"You really like to touch me don't you," the pretty boy says. "What are you doing here?" I ask. "Well, what do people usually do at the club?" He answers my question with a rhetorical question.

"Thanks for not letting me fall earlier," I say as I brush his chest over the place I bumped into. "You have to be more careful, watch where you're stepping, it could've been a stinky homeless guy, instead of me that you bumped into, I'm Matt by the way," he says, his charming voice making my knees weak.

"You wanna go dance?" I ask him, and without hesitation, he takes my hand and pulls me into the crowd at the dance floor.

We dance in sync as Matt's hands are placed on my hips guiding them side to side as my ass is brushing against his jeans, my one hand bent backward wrapped around the nape of his head.

I feel myself getting wet as I feel his hands starting to roam around my body, touching me in all the right places. I begin to grind my ass against his crotch feeling his dick getting hard as he lets out a hot breath in my ear.

Now one of his hands has traveled to my inner thigh as the other one keeps resting on my hip slowly guiding it up and down his hard, clothed cock. He sneaks his hand under my short dress, moving closer to my heat. His thumb starts to move in circles on my clit as his ring and middle finger move up and down over my clothed folds. I let out a moan as the pleasurable sensation entered my body. I throw back my head resting it on Matt's shoulder.

I feel Matt's hand suddenly stop, as he spins me around. "Follow me," he says when he leaned in closer to my ear so I'd be able to hear him over the loud music. His voice was dark, filled with lust.

Matt took my wrist and quickly led me to the bathrooms, he approached a door with a 'staff only' sign on it. When he pulled the handle I thought it would be locked, but it wasn't. We went in and it was as dim almost as the nightclub itself only a few colored lights giving the bathroom enough light to see where everything was. It was a big one toilet bathroom though, but it's still weird that the staff would have to do their business practically in the dark.

I snap out of my thoughts as I hear Matt closing the door behind him and turning the lock. He looked at me, his icy blue eyes were now dark, filled with hunger. He takes my hand and pulls me close, smashing his lips onto mine and his tongue exploring every inch of my mouth. His hands travel around my body stopping at my ass, he grabs hard on it.

Without breaking the kiss he lifts me up and I wrap my legs around his waist. I let out a moan feeling the cold buckle of his belt against my heat. He walks over to the counter where the sink is located and sits me down.

He breaks the kiss and looks me in my eyes, slowly kneeling down. His head is now on one level with my throbbing pussy. "Please," is all I manage to blur out.

I feel his cold fingertips trace along my thigh as he stops at my core, rubbing circles on my clit and I let out a loud moan. With one sharp movement, I hear the tights rip making me feel the cold countertop on my bare skin as the tights now have huge runs in them.

Matt's hands guide my legs on top of his shoulders, he pulls me closer giving him better access to my pussy, making me lean against the mirror that was on the wall behind the counter. I let out a whine as I felt two of his cold fingers moving my thong to the side now giving him full access to my dripping hole.

Matt looks up at me before moving closer, placing a trail of kisses from my thigh to my sensitive bud, causing my fingers to intertwine with his fluffy hair. He sticks out his tongue and starts licking circles around my clit. I roll my eyes to the back of my head. I feel his cold fingers pressing against my pussy, teasing me. "I need you," I manage to whimper under my breath and without any hesitation I feel his fingers push deep inside me, his cold rings pressed outside of my pussy.

I moan out loudly as his tongue and his fingers move in a rhythm giving me unimaginable pleasure. His fingers curled inside of me, places so deep I could never reach them on my own, his other hand holding a tight grip on my thigh. I feel a knot forming in my stomach. "Cl- close," I whimper out not able to say anything else.

His fingers slide out of my pussy and his tongue replaces them. Curling his tongue in my hole, I gasp out of the intense pleasure, Matt's now free hand traveling to my other thigh, holding on to it.

My sloppy moans fill the room as the pleasure is too much for me and I can't find the room to take in a full breath. "I'm about to cum," I moan out. He hums against my pussy, his tongue still in me curling inside of me. His voice sending vibrations through my core is enough for me to reach my climax. I let out a loud moan as I tug on his hair hard, bucking up my hips and rinding out my high.

Matt continues to move his tongue inside of me making my legs shake as the overstimulation rushes over me. My moans turn into loud pants, trying to catch my breath. My legs shake uncontrollably as his movements don't stop and he continues to curl his tongue, moving it in and out of me.

I try to move my legs, but Matt tightens his grip around my thighs, his short nails digging into my skin as I let out a hiss. I feel another orgasm coming, legs still shaking. "Don- pl- don't sto-" I try to speak in between my attempts to get some air in my lungs. I feel my vision getting blurry as I feel tears forming in my eyes from the intense pleasure.

My eyes roll to the back of my head as I feel Matt's thumb drawing circles on my clit. This is enough to send me over the edge and I squeeze Matt's head in between my shaking thighs as I cum for the second time.

I ride out my high and Matt stands up, his lips shining a bright red color. "You taste so sweet, I could eat you out all night," he says before kissing me and pulling on my bottom lip with his teeth.

"Get down," he says and yanks me by my wrists. As my feet meet the floor, I instantly lose balance as I'm not able to hold myself up on my own, still unable to fully breathe. Matt catches me, quickly turning me, my back facing him, and bending me over, pushing me against the counter.

I hear him unbuckling his belt before his pants fall to the ground. I look back at him and see him pulling down his boxers. He pushes my dress up revealing my almost bare ass as the only thing covering it is tights with huge runs and now holes in them.

I feel a sting as Matt slaps my ass making me moan out in pleasure. He pulls my thong to the side and without any warning he grabs my ass lifting it up before pushing his dick deeply inside of me, immediately kissing my g-spot on the first thrust. I let out a loud pornographic moan.

"Shit you feel so good around my cock baby," Matt moans, one of his hands placed on my lower back, the other traveled to my hair, weaving his hand around them to make a ponytail.

As he continues to plant deep, hard thrusts in me, he yanks my hair causing my head to tilt back, he leans in and places a kiss on my lips as his other hand now firmly holds onto my jaw.

"You're such a good girl for me, fuck," Matt growls breaking the contact between our lips, throwing his head back as his mouth falls open, his chest unevenly rising up and down.

Both of our heavy pants and moans are now filling the room. "Ahh fuck princess, you feel so tight, I'm about to cum," Matt moans out. My walls clench around his twitching cock as I also feel my orgasm coming, I open my mouth to say something, but nothing comes out, just a high-pitched whimper.

"Look at you, you're so pathetic, can't even say anything, I have fucked you dumb," he says and I hear how smug his voice is.

Matt thrusts a few more times before I feel my orgasm taking over me, and my legs again begin to shake. "Oh fuck," Matt moans out as he thrusts deeply painting my walls with his cum. He lets go of my hair as he pats my head "You're such a good girl," Matt says.

Matt pulls out his cock and pulls the dress over my ass pulling up his boxers and his jeans. I try to stand up feeling dizzy and lightheaded from the slightest movement. I lose my balance and Matt catches me once again. "Awww, I have really done a number on you, haven't I?" He asks teasingly, I just nod as I don't have the strength to answer.

Matt leads me to sit down on the toilet before he returns to the sink, and wets his hands under the cold, running water. He walks over to me and places one of his wet, cold hands at the nape of my neck and the other one on my cheek to help me come back to my senses.

We stand there like that for a while before he wipes the mascara that had run down my cheeks with his wet thumb while looking down at me giving me a warm smile, leaning down, and pressing a kiss on my forehead.

"How you feeling?" he asks innocently as if he didn't just fuck my brains out. "Better, I think I'm ready to go," I say as I stand up. We head to the door and I lead the way, unlocking the door we go out.

I see my best friend, she notices me too and rushes over, "What happened, where were you, I was searching all over for you!" she exclaims with a worried but angry voice as she looks me up and down. "What did you do to my tights?" Her eyes widen. "I got revenge on you for cockblocking me," I say as I smile. "Oh looks like we've got a brat on our hands," Matt says as he chuckles, leaning in, his hand on my hip, holding me tight, so I don't lose support.

"Bump into me again sometime," Matt says as a small smirk creeps on his lips.

[mydarlingclaudia]

I’m still coming back to you

note : divider is from @/aquazero. I've never written smut before, plus this is probably ooc, so I'm sorry if it's not the best. I based this off of She's My Collar by Gorrilaz. since this is smut mdni.

wc : 1.3k

desc : you and Leon have something special, neither of you would trade it for anything. smut!! - oral (f receiving), more focused on Leon's pov, fwb (kind of??), Leon being kinda head over heels for you, a little bit of angst, not proofread, fem!reader, wrote this with DI!Leon in mind

Leon thinks he might be in love with you. You’d always welcome him into your home, or he’d welcome you into his. You helped take the stress away from his work and made him forget that everything was out to get him. The two of you weren’t boyfriend and girlfriend, but he knew damn well that he was yours and you were his.

It was routine. Leon would come back from a mission, wash up real quick, make his way to your apartment with a gift for you in his hand, and you’d be there waiting for him, like you usually were.

He’s been doing this with you for a while now, he’d met you at a bar in D.C. a few years ago, a one night stand turned into the two of you continuing to run into each other whether at the same bar or anywhere else in the city, and that led to more nights of the two of you passed out in his bed or yours, wearing nothing but love-bites and blankets. He liked you a lot more than he’d anticipated, he liked doting on you a lot, too.

Leon coming home from a mission wasn’t the only time he’d see you. He had a busy schedule, you knew that, that was the pretty much the only thing you knew about his job besides it being doing dangerous things for the government, but he’d try to see you once every couple of weeks at the very least. His arrival wouldn’t always be a surprise, he liked taking you out to dinner almost as much as he liked having sex with you. Leon did his best to plan dates with you, they weren’t ever anything really mind blowing, usually just dinner dates or him taking you shopping. Leon liked watching you try on dresses, he liked sharing a bottle of wine with you, he liked spending some money on you.

He couldn’t stay away from you, and you couldn’t stay away from him, he could die and still find a way to get back to you.

Leon never asked for your number, he hardly used his phone for anything outside of reading the news and work, he figured that if he had your number, he’d never put his phone down. Of course, that didn’t keep you out of his mind all day long. And it’s not like him not having your number made him unable to ever see you, he knew where you lived, he knew your work schedule. If he was to drop by your house and you weren’t there for some reason, he could just leave a note taped to your door telling you to come meet him at his apartment.

Leon also thought that if he got your number and ended up losing his phone on a mission and it got into the wrong hands and they somehow found out about you, then things wouldn’t end good for either of you. That’s why after he joined the DSO he hasn’t been in an actual relationship, as much as he longed for one, he knew he couldn’t risk it. You were the closest he could get to that, he’d never really be able to date you, but you seemed happy with what the two of you had. Marriage and kids probably wouldn’t be his scene, anyway. And even if his relationship with you was able to get that far, he couldn’t just leave you home alone with a baby for weeks at a time, he’d feel horrible about it.

You’d never really talked about it, you’ve joked about it a few times, but there wasn’t really any significance behind them. It’s better that way.

Leon was lucky that you were his, even though it wasn’t official. He could pretend his life was normal for a few nights when he was with you.

The nights where he felt the most normal, was when he had his head buried between your thighs after he cooked you steak in the comfort of his apartment.

He’d just come back from California, as always, he didn’t say much about the mission other then it was more complicated then it should’ve been. Leon had told you that he went to the store and bought everything he needed for steak, all you needed to do was go home with him, which you were more than fine with. You always loved his apartment, it was comfy and smelled like him, you’d left a few of your own things there over the years. You knew what was going to happen when he knocked on your door, sometimes after missions he just had this look to him that told you he needed your help de-stressing, you were always willing to help.

Your back is pressed against Leon's bed while your hips are supported by his hands, your thighs rest on his shoulders, occasionally squeezing his head while he kneels between them. A string of shaky pants and whines fall from your mouth as he continues to eat you out, your grip on his hair tightens as you buck your hips against his face.

One of his hands leaves your hip to press down on your stomach, keeping you still against his mouth. Leon pulls away from you, pressing his face against your thigh and biting it gently.

"Stay still, like I told you." Leon mumbles softly, pressing down on your stomach a bit harder, the hand that had remained on your hip slips down to hold the underside of your thigh.

"C-Can't-" You whimper, weakly digging your heels into the back of his ribs to try and bring him closer once again.

"You can't?" He teases, raising an eyebrow and pulling further away from you slightly, to which you whine at. You removed your hand from his hair and sat up on your elbows and huffed, Leon only chuckled softly and reached up to place a hand over your chest, pushing you back down. Leon let his hand slide down over your breasts that were spilling out of the bra he hadn't bothered to take off of you after he covered your chest with soft indents of his teeth and hickeys, his hand returned to your hip before he attached his mouth back to your aching sex, sucking roughly.

Your thighs tightened around Leon's head again, refusing to let him go as your back arched ever so slightly off the bed so you could grind against his mouth. This time, he didn't pull away or scold you about keeping still, he just gripped your hips tighter and pressed his face against your cunt, lavishing attention to the sensitive flesh.

Leon always tried his best to savor you, even though you've done this together countless times. He loved the noises you made for him when he found the right spot to suck on or grind against, his memories of moments like these with you are what got him through tough missions, along with knowing that he'd get to do this all over again with you when he got home.

Your hand finds its way back into Leon's hair, he grunts against your flesh, giving your thigh a light slap as he pulls his head a few inches away, his breath fanning across your cunt.

"I know you missed me, but be patient. I've got you, I promise." He reassures you before he drags his tongue slowly up your slit, listening to you as you moan.

Your grip in his hair only tightens as you rock your hips again, feeling his tongue delve deeper to eat you out more thoroughly. He always did this; the teasing. You loved it.

Leon's down there for another five minutes before your orgasm washes over you, by the time he's done licking you clean, he's already gotten his belt buckle off and his pants unzipped, trailing wet kisses up your body before his lips meet yours. He'd never get tired of this, even if he does it one thousand more times, he'd do it happily. He's got you, and you're the best thing life has ever thrown his way.

[nohoperadio]

That cool bee book I was talking about a while ago mostly refrains from philosophical digressions (which I think is a strength, I appreciated how the author had total confidence that just clearly presenting the facts about his subject would be enough to make a fascinating book without the need for any "...and here's why that should blow your mind" editorializing, and he's totally right), but there was one towards the end I've found myself thinking about a lot, which is: he wants people to stop using "self-consciousness" (i.e. the concept exemplified by the mirror test but used implicitly or explicitly in tons of other contexts) as a criterion for which animals can be considered sentient/morally relevant/having significant inner lives/however you want to describe it. Not, as you might expect, because he thinks it's an unreasonably high bar to meet, but because it's such a low bar that it produces no distinctions: he argues that basically any animal with any kind of developed central nervous system has to have some kind of self-consciousness almost by definition.

The example I remember best is: imagine you can see an object in your visual field getting closer to you. No matter the specifics, it's obviously always going to make a huge difference to how you evaluate this situation whether the cause of the object getting closer is a] the object is moving towards you, or b] you are moving towards the object. If a, then something might be pursuing you or falling on you or a thousand other things that are just not even worth considering in the case of b. But visually the two cases are indistinguishable; if you're going to be able to track the difference, your brain has to be putting at least some work into keeping tabs on what your own intentions are and what choices you're making as you move through the world, predicting the expected consequences of those choices, and maintaining a fairly tidy mental separation between stuff in the world that you're making happen and stuff in the world that's just happening of its own volition. Otherwise, every time you walk towards a rock you'll freak out and think the rock is rolling into you, or vice versa.

And it's not hard to see how this applies to your entire sensory world right, it applies to sounds and tactile sensations and even feelings internal to your body to some extent, if you're going to both perceive the world and take actions in the world then it's mandatory to mentally separate yourself and the world before that's going to yield even an ounce of helpful information, you just can't function successfully on the most basic level if you're processing stuff that you're doing on the same level as stuff that's happening, if you're in that state then you simply don't have a usable model of the world at all, you just have chaos.

So you can very easily eliminate a certain seductive narrative about the evolution of consciousness, which starts with very primitive animals who are mentally processing nothing but basic sensory inputs, then as you rise up the chain more complex animals are forming concepts of objects and building up a more nuanced understanding of the world, until finally you approach humans and the mind becomes so subtle and sophisticated that it gains access to this special advanced meta-level of thought where it can even understand itself! No, the self is precisely the one idea that has to be in place from the very beginning, before any of it has even the most rudimentary practical value. Self-consciousness isn't the pinnacle of the mind's evolution, it's one of the lowest, most basic foundations that everything else builds off of.

I think this is really cool stuff! I don't know enough about the relevant academic philosophy of mind debates to say how far all this does or doesn't speak to that, maybe someone will tell me the "self-consciousness" concept being attacked here is a strawman somehow, I don't know. But it's definitely impacted the way I (just a dumb guy who likes creatures) think about our small small cousins and what their lives might be like and I think it's super interesting. If you think it's interesting too then maybe you wanna buy The Mind of a Bee by Lars Chittka and read it. It's mostly not about this stuff, as I say it's light on philosophy and heavy on bee-life immersion, but if you actually read this whole post then you're probably in the market for that I feel like.

[rosesareredrosa]

When Laughter Fades

Mattheo Riddle x fem reader

Summary: Mattheo takes things too far with his "banter" and didn't notice y/n's feelings of hurt and anger until one day she decides to speak up and Mattheo has to change to keep the relationship steady

Authors note: Sorry anon for the wait this was randomly so hard

Word Count: 1070

Mattheo Riddle loved pulling pranks. They brought him joy and amusement, especially when his favorite target, Y/N, was involved. She usually laughed along with him, but he didn't realize how close he was to crossing the line until today.

It was a sunny Saturday afternoon, and the Slytherin common room was buzzing with students enjoying their free time. Y/N was seated at a table, diligently working on an essay for Potions class. Mattheo, ever the prankster, watched her from across the room, a devious idea forming in his mind.

He slipped out of the common room and returned moments later with a small enchanted box. Inside it was a jinxed snake that would leap out and hiss at whoever opened it. He approached Y/N's table with a casual grin.

"Hey, Y/N, I found this weird box in the Room of Requirement. Want to see what's inside?" he asked, holding out the box to her.

Y/N glanced up, raising an eyebrow but smiling. "Sure, Mattheo. Let's see it."

As soon as she opened the box, the snake leaped out, hissing loudly. Y/N screamed, knocking over her ink bottle in the process. Ink splattered all over her essay and her robes. Her face paled, and then flushed with a mix of fear and anger.

"Mattheo, what the hell!" she shouted, her voice trembling.

Mattheo's grin faltered. "It's just a prank, Y/N. It's a fake snake, see?"

He picked up the snake, which had now returned to its inanimate state, and showed it to her. But Y/N wasn't laughing.

"Just a prank? Look at my essay, my robes! This isn't funny, Mattheo. You always do this, and I'm sick of it!" Tears welled up in her eyes as she glared at him.

"Y/N, I didn't mean to—" Mattheo started, but she cut him off.

"That's the problem, Mattheo. You never mean to, but you always end up hurting me. Maybe you should think before you act."

With that, she turned on her heel and left the common room, leaving Mattheo standing there, guilt and regret washing over him. He watched her go, the weight of his actions sinking in.

Days passed, and Y/N avoided Mattheo. The usual spark in her eyes was gone, replaced by a guarded, wary look. Mattheo's heart ached every time he saw her, knowing he had put that look there. He had to make things right, but he didn't know how. Apologies had never been his strong suit.

One evening, after searching for Y/N around the castle, Mattheo finally found her in the library, sitting in a secluded corner. Her face was buried in her arms, and she looked up as he approached, her eyes red-rimmed from crying.

"Y/N," he said softly, approaching her table. "Please, can we talk?"

She looked up, her expression weary. "What do you want, Mattheo?"

"I want to apologize. I was an idiot, and I took things way too far. I never wanted to hurt you, but I did. I'm so sorry, Y/N."

"You always say you're sorry, but then you do it again. How can I believe you this time?"

"I know I've messed up," he continued, "but I promise I'll change. No more pranks, no more teasing. I care about you, and I don't want to lose your friendship."

Y/N stood up, her frustration boiling over. "You care about me? You have a funny way of showing it. Every time I start to trust you, you pull another stupid prank. Do you have any idea how much that hurts?"

"Y/N, please, I never meant to hurt you. I just thought it was all in good fun."

"Good fun? Fun for who, Mattheo? Because it's not fun for me. It's humiliating and cruel."

Mattheo felt his heart sink. He hadn't realized just how much pain he had caused her. "I... I didn't see it that way. I thought we were just playing around."

"Playing around? This isn't a game, Mattheo. These are my feelings. And every time you pull one of your 'pranks,' it feels like you're saying my feelings don't matter."

"I'm sorry," Mattheo said, his voice breaking. "I really am. I don't want to lose you, Y/N."

She sighed, her anger giving way to exhaustion. "I don't know if I can trust you again, Mattheo. You've hurt me too many times."

"I'll prove it to you," he said desperately. "I'll show you that I can change. No more pranks, I swear. Just give me a chance."

Y/N looked at him, her eyes filled with a mix of hope and doubt. "Alright, Mattheo. But this is your last chance. If you hurt me again, we're done."

He nodded fervently. "I won't let you down. I promise."

In the days that followed, Mattheo made good on his promise. He was attentive, considerate, and kind. He helped Y/N with her studies, brought her favorite snacks, and most importantly, he listened. But he couldn't shake the nagging feeling that things weren't the same. Y/N was more reserved, her laughter less frequent, and Mattheo feared that he had caused irreparable damage.

One night, as they sat by the lake, watching the sunset, Y/N broke the silence. "Mattheo, do you ever think about the future?"

He glanced at her, surprised by the question. "Sometimes. Why?"

"I've been thinking a lot lately. About us, about everything that's happened. I want to trust you, but it's hard. Every time I see you, I remember the hurt."

Mattheo's heart clenched. "Y/N, I promise I'll never hurt you again. I care about you so much."

She turned to him, her eyes filled with a mix of hope and sorrow. "I want to believe you, Mattheo. But it's going to take time."

"I know. And I'm willing to wait, to do whatever it takes to make things right."

Y/N leaned her head on his shoulder, a small gesture of trust. "Thank you, Mattheo."

As they sat there, wrapped in each other's presence, Mattheo knew that this was his chance to prove himself. The road to healing would be long and difficult, but he was determined to show Y/N that he valued her far more than any prank or joke. He would cherish her, protect her, and make sure that her laughter returned, brighter and more genuine than ever before.