#purchase pool designs

[resdraft]

Custom Pool Design plans Tailored to Your Backyard

We add a compliance statement on all the custom pool plans stating design is according to the Florida Building Code, 7th Edition and the ANSI/APSP/ICC5 standard for the design, construction, and workmanship of swimming pools.

[hoshigray]

But like…sugar daddy!Nanami bending you over his pool table and just fucking your brains out🙈‼️

𝐚. 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: missed writing for nanami, let's gooo!

⊹ 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: sugar daddy! Nanami x fem! reader - explicit content; minors DNI - sex on a pool table - finger sucking - lingerie - breast fondling + nipple play - standing (bent over) position - praise - Daddy kink - pet names (baby, good girl, honey, love, sweetheart, sweetpea) - protected sex (bc he's a gentleman, lol) - mention of drool/spit.

⊹ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1.3k

“—Mmmph! Ohhh…Kent—Oooh!”

“Yes, baby…God, you look so good.”

“Your fingers; you’re going too…Mmmm…”

Being a sugar baby is a blessing in its own way. Not having to worry so much about your financial situations as they’re taken care of in your day-to-day life can be a bit overwhelming to comprehend in the days you forget entirely; however, you can’t lie that it’s not a nice lifestyle to live in. All your money troubles no longer being a constant weight on your shoulders, moved aside for you to enjoy your life as freely as you wish compared to before.

And what’s better is that the man taking care of said troubles was indeed a miracle worker — and quite the looker. Nanami Kento, your sugar daddy, took you in when you put your online advertisement looking for a sugar daddy, and you can only thank the stars above for such a wonderful man to come falling from the heavens above to put your mind at ease.

And trust and believe that he’s done so in ways more than one.

He had you bent by his pool table in the living space of his penthouse, your legs spread for him to have your skirt lifted to your waist. It’s easier for his hand to go to your lacy panties and slide his fingers in to meet your folds. And after a few minutes, he’s already made you a complete mess just by the thickness of his digits. 

You squirm, gripping the billard stick that rests on the velvety skin of the pool table. “Hahhhn, ohooo, stoop, don’t rub there—Hic…!” Your hands grip the shoulder of his work shirt.

“Oh? Don’t like it when I do…this?” The blunt of Nanami’s fingertips scrapes the upper wall of your vaginal walls with a curled motion, and you lament with the jerk of your thighs. “But all I’m doing is rewarding my baby.”

His reward was specifically targeted to what you were wearing. Your opened buttoned-up shirt exposed your recent purchase of a new lingerie set; the complex design of the intimate clothing and the bold hue of the color–your favorite color–complimented your skin enchantingly. The blonde man behind you couldn’t keep his eyes and hands off you the moment you meekly showed off the bra of the set. 

“And judging by how tight you’re squeezing my fingers,” he says to your ear while another graze of your inner walls has you arch towards him. “You seem to love this, right, honey?” His free hand was groping one of your breasts; the material of the laced bra felt pleasant to the touch along the squish of your mound.

“Hoooh, ohhGod, Kento, please,” you were a whimpering mess literally in the palm of his hand; he’d made you come once already, so your insides had yet to subside from the acute height that kept you trembling to his touch. “I caan’t, no moooore…If you keep up, I-I’ll—“

“What?” He kisses your cheek, nearly having you give to your knees. “Don’t wanna cum on my fingers?” You shook your head hurriedly, enticing your neck for him to lay more gentle kisses. “What do you wanna cum on then, sweetpea?”

You use your hips to answer, grinding your wet southern lips on the zipper of his expensive, linen dress trousers. Yet, while he returns the motion with synced ruts to your chasm with the tent of his groin, it’s safe to say he doesn’t mind the mess. 

“This,” you moan with more rubs on his pants. “I wanna cum on you, Kent. Please, lemme cum on you…”

The sound of his chuckle has you twitching on his digits, wailing when he stretches your opening with a scissoring motion. “Good girl, asking so nicely…” With a hum, he withdraws his fingers from your warmth and brings your pricy underwear down to your thighs, brushing its garters. After bringing his trousers down and freeing his erection from his briefs, he grabs for the condom from his pocket to release from its wrapper. Once the rubber is on and fitted, Nanami guides his cock to the hole of your vagina. 

The insertion of the cockhead has you gasping sharply, the cue stick in your grasp being the only thing you can use as security as your sugar daddy pushes every inch of his shaft inside you. You could never get used to the girth, the stretch of his limb so euphorically good, and the graze of the tip on the sensitive itches that make you hiccup. And the hilt of his pelvis meets your folds, sighing now that his entire cock is finally one with you.

He rocks back and forth leisurely, careful not to have you released on him just yet. Both his hands now meet your chest, fondling the flesh of your breasts in such a loving fashion that you whimper with the pull of his dick. God, the way his tip perfectly rubs on your inner texture has your brows furrowed and eyes sewn shut, wanting to truly indulge in the sensation that piques the delicate keenness of your nerves.

“Ahaaa, ohoofuck,” you jolt when he suddenly throws a rough thrust to your ass; the stick in your hand hits two Aramith billiard balls to the long rails of the table. “Yesss, right there, Kentoo…! Feel so good…”

“Yeah, honey?” The weight of him on your back as he bends his frame above yours, speaking softly to your ear as if wanting you to shiver on his chest. “Feeling good?” You nod hurriedly with the tweak of your nipples under the rough pads of his fingers. “All cute and good for me…Want me to make you feel even more good?”

“Yes…Daddy,” Oh my, you used the title—a step you were cautious to use at the moment yet albeit eager for the results. And the sand-haired man snaps his hips abruptly, causing a shriek to sneak past you without noticing.

He’s done with the slow pacing—the rhythm now increased to a rapid cadence that evokes more sounds to escape with every rock of your figure. Gosh, you hope you weren’t leaving scratch marks on this man’s pool table. It would make you feel terrible damaging his property. However, that sounds like a worry to check back later when you’re not squealing your mind out.

“—Oooh!! F–fffshiiiit, Daddy!” Your eyes roll up at the scrape of your G-spot. “N–Not shoo fa—Ahhhh! T’oo muuch…!”

“But you’re too close to slow down, love,” Nanami kisses your cheek before slithering his hand to stuff his fore and middle fingers into your mouth. You sounded too cute mewing for him while sucking on his fingers. And it doesn’t help that the erratic ruts to your cunt have you shrilling even more, drool trickling down to your chin just to fall on the table surface. “Come on, sweetpea, let it all out…Hnnmm, let me feel it.”

The piston of his pelvis smacking the skin of your ass with the thick digits stuffed in your mouth is too much to follow through, the climb of your climax becoming more complicated to avoid as the milliseconds rush away. You submit to your growing dizziness as your peak shakes you down.

The orgasm has you screaming out loud, your legs trembling with the flutter of your walls around Nanami’s dick while he slowly plunges himself in and outward, relishing the snugness of your slit. You suck on his fingers hard, nearly choking on spit when your body is experiencing the pulses at its own pace. Your elbows wobble, giving way for you to slump down and accidentally hit an object ball with the cue stick, knocking onto another and pushing it an inch away from a pocket.

Nanami chortles, straightening himself to massage your waist through your aftershocks. “Nice backspin, sweetheart.”

© 𝐇𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐲2024 – header edit done by me + dividers by @/animatedglittergraphics-n-more.

[pucksandpower]

So Good to Me

Charles Leclerc x Reader

Summary: Charles Leclerc is the perfect man for you … getting stopped on the street for a random TikTok challenge just serves to prove that even further

The warm Monaco sun beats down on you as you stroll leisurely along the bustling sidewalk, a canvas tote bag filled with fresh produce and flowers from the local farmer’s market hanging from your shoulder. The salty sea breeze wafts across your face, carrying with it the excited chatter and laughter of tourists admiring the luxurious yachts bobbing in Port Hercules.

You smile to yourself, relishing this perfect Mediterranean afternoon. Just a quick stop at home to drop off your purchases, and then maybe you’ll take a dip in the infinity pool on the terrace to cool off before Charles is done with-

“Excusez-moi, mademoiselle!” A young man’s voice breaks through your daydreaming. You glance over to see a twenty-something guy with a neatly trimmed beard, expensive-looking sunglasses, and a black t-shirt emblazoned with HUSTLE in white block letters. He’s holding a mini microphone and has his iPhone pointed at you, clearly filming.

A TikToker.

You sigh internally but force a polite smile.

“Oui, puis-je vous aider?” You reply in French.

“Ah sorry, I don’t speak much French! Do you speak English?” The TikToker asks eagerly in a British accent.

“Yes, I do. Can I help you with something?” You say, switching to English yourself. You just want to get home but you know these influencer types can be annoyingly persistent.

The TikToker grins. “Brilliant! I’m doing a social experiment for my followers. I was wondering — do you have a significant other? A boyfriend or husband perhaps?”

You raise an eyebrow questioningly but decide to humor him. “Um, yes, I have a boyfriend,” you answer simply.

His eyes light up. “Fantastic! And would you say your boyfriend loves you very much?”

You can’t help but chuckle at the boldness of this stranger’s line of questioning. “Yes, I would definitely say that. He loves me a lot,” you confirm, a soft smile playing on your lips as you think of Charles.

“Perfect! Okay, here’s the challenge,” the TikToker announces dramatically, staring intensely into his camera. “I want you to call up your boyfriend right now and ask him to send you some money. Doesn’t matter how much. But for every €100 he sends, I’ll give you €20 to keep for yourself. Let’s see how much he really loves you, shall we?”

You stare at this guy incredulously for a moment before bursting out laughing. Is he serious? He clearly has no idea who your boyfriend is. An amused smirk spreads across your face as you fish your iPhone out of your designer purse.

“Alright, you’re on,” you say confidently, already unlocking your phone and tapping on Charles’ contact. The TikToker looks surprised but excited that you actually agreed to his silly challenge.

“Put it on speaker phone,” he instructs, zooming his camera in on your phone screen which is now dialing Charles.

After a few rings, the warm, honey-smooth voice you adore comes through. “Allô mon amour, what’s up?” Charles greets you sweetly. “I’m just finishing up some simulator runs but I should be done soon to help with dinner.”

“Hey baby,” you reply, your voice automatically softening. “Sorry to bother you, I know you’re busy. But I’m out right now and I just passed by that little boutique near the casino, you know the one? And I saw the most incredible pair of shoes in the window. I swear they were calling my name.”

Charles laughs affectionately, the sound like music to your ears even through the cell phone speaker. “Oh yeah? The ones that were calling your name last week turned out to be, what was it, €900?” He teases.

You roll your eyes playfully even though he can’t see. “Okay, fair, but you know I hardly ever splurge on myself. I’m usually so frugal!”

“Mmhmm, whatever you need to tell yourself, chérie,” Charles says wryly and you can practically hear the smirk in his voice. “Let me guess, you need to go get these dream shoes right now? Or else they’ll haunt you forever?”

“You know me so well,” you gush dramatically. “I promise I’ll pay you back though! I get paid next week and-”

“Hey, hey, stop,” Charles cuts you off gently. “Mon cœur, you never have to pay me back, you know that. I love being able to treat you and spoil you. You deserve the world. Never forget that.”

You feel yourself melt at his earnest words, momentarily forgetting you have an audience. “I love you so much,” you murmur. “Thank you for always being so good to me.”

“Right back at you, ma belle. Je t’aime,” Charles says tenderly. “There, check your banking app. Let me know if you need any more. And have fun shopping! I’ll see you at home in a bit, okay? À bientôt!”

You glance down at your phone as a notification from your bank pops up on the screen. Your eyes widen slightly when you see the amount Charles sent over, but you recover quickly.

“Thank you, baby. See you soon!” You reply before hanging up. You turn back to the TikToker who is gaping at you in disbelief. Casually, you turn your phone screen towards him and his camera so he can clearly see the notification that €10,000 has just been deposited into your account.

The poor guy looks like he’s about to pass out from shock. He opens and closes his mouth a few times, rendered speechless. You just laugh good-naturedly.

“Well, guess I won your little challenge, huh?” You remark, slipping your phone back into your purse. “Tell you what, why don’t you donate whatever money you were going to give me to a local animal shelter instead? I think it’ll be put to much better use there.”

The TikToker finally manages to pick his jaw up off the floor. He laughs shakily and nods. “Yeah ... yeah I can do that. Wow. Um, thanks for being such a good sport about this. And congrats on, uh, winning, I guess?”

You give him a friendly wink. “Anytime. Have a nice rest of your day!” With that, you turn gracefully on your heel and continue on your way back home, feeling rather smug and deeply appreciative of your wonderfully generous boyfriend.

“Wait!” The TikToker calls out after you. You glance back over your shoulder curiously. He hesitates before asking in an awed voice, “If you don’t mind me asking ... who the hell is your boyfriend?”

An enigmatic smile plays on your lips. “No one special really,” you reply breezily. “Just a guy who loves driving fast cars.”

You leave the gaping TikToker in your wake as you saunter off, already daydreaming about showing your appreciation to Charles later for being the most incredible boyfriend imaginable.

Maybe you really will splurge on those designer shoes after all … and pick up a little something special from the lingerie boutique next door while you’re at it.

Your smile widens. Just as a little thank you to your man, of course. Life is good when you’re in love with Charles Leclerc.

[demoniofleur10]

“Fuck, love,” Sanemi cursed, his voice husky as he slowly dragged his cock out before thrusting all the way back in, eliciting a trail of moans from the girl pressed against the counter. She was enveloped in the tight embrace of her husband, who towered over her smaller frame. His strong grip was the only thing keeping her from collapsing to the floor, her knees weak and trembling like jelly.

“Sa-Sanemi! Y-you-your mis-mission!” she stuttered, her words breaking into gasps as Sanemi thrust once more, his cock rubbing against all the right places and hitting that sweet, gummy spot that had her seeing stars.

“I want to have all of you before I head out,” he grunted, his head tilting upwards as her walls clenched tightly around him. The way she took him in so perfectly made him want to pound into her, but he relished the novelty of this new position.

How did they end up like this?

Sanemi had been getting ready for his mission, donning his gear, when a soft humming reached his ears. Curious, he followed the sound to the kitchen and was greeted by an enchanting sight: his wife, lovingly preparing ohagis for him to take on his mission, humming a sweet, unfamiliar tune. She looked so pretty, so precious, and the domestic scene filled him with a warmth that quickly turned into something more primal.

He watched her for a moment, his eyes tracing the gentle sway of her hips and the delicate movements of her hands. Unbeknownst to him, his blood was rushing downward, pooling in his groin, and he felt himself growing hard. This was supposed to be an innocent moment, but his body had other plans.

Y/n didn’t notice Sanemi’s presence until she felt something hard pressing against her clothed ass, making her squeak in surprise. Her cheeks flushed a deep red, and a soft gasp escaped her lips as she realized what it was.

Before she knew it, Sanemi had her pinned against the counter, her kimono bunched up around her waist. His hands were everywhere—on her hips, her waist, her breasts—keeping her anchored to him. Her own hands scrabbled at his muscular arms, seeking purchase as he moved inside her.

“Sanemi,” she whimpered, her voice a mix of pleasure and urgency. “You need to go…”

“Not yet,” he murmured against her ear, his breath hot and ragged. “I need to feel you, to remember this when I’m out there. Let me take care of you first.”

Each thrust was deliberate, designed to elicit the most pleasure from her. Her body responded instinctively, arching back into him, her moans growing louder with each movement. The sounds of their lovemaking filled the kitchen, mingling with the faint smell of the ohagis she had been preparing.

Sanemi’s hands roamed over her body, caressing her skin, memorizing every curve and dip. His love for her was fierce, and he wanted to show her just how much she meant to him before he had to leave. He could feel her tightening around him, her breaths coming in short, sharp bursts.

“Sanemi, please…” she cried out, her voice trembling with the intensity of her impending climax.

Sanemi's hand cupped her jaw, gently tilting her head towards him before his lips crashed onto hers. His tongue invaded her mouth, drawing muffled moans from her as he deepened the kiss. The intensity of his thrusts increased, each one more powerful than the last. At this point, he was practically pounding into her, relentlessly hitting that perfect spot inside her over and over again.

Her fingers dug into his arms, trying to hold on as waves of pleasure coursed through her body. The kitchen echoed with the sounds of their lovemaking, a symphony of flesh meeting flesh, mingled moans, and ragged breaths. Her back was pressed against his muscular chest, her abdomen pinned against the counter. The discomfort only heightened her senses, making every touch and movement feel even more intense.

Sanemi's other hand gripped her hip, pulling her closer with each thrust, his need for her overwhelming. He could feel her tightening around him, her body responding to his with an urgency that matched his own. The friction, the heat, the closeness—it was all too much and not enough at the same time.

His lips left hers, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down her neck, sucking on the delicate skin there, leaving marks that would remind them both of this moment. Her moans turned into whimpers, her head falling back to give him more access as he continued his assault on her senses.

"Sanemi," she gasped, her voice barely a whisper amidst her moans, "I'm so close..."He growled against her neck, his breath hot and heavy. "I know, love. Let go for me. I want to feel you come around me.

"His words, coupled with the relentless pace of his thrusts, pushed her over the edge. Her body tensed, then shuddered violently as her orgasm ripped through her, her walls clenching around him tightly. She cried out his name, her voice breaking as she came undone.

Sanemi felt her release, the way her body milked him for everything he had. With a final, powerful thrust, he let himself go, spilling inside her with a guttural groan. His grip on her tightened as he rode out his own orgasm, the intensity of it leaving him breathless.

They stayed like that for a moment, their bodies trembling and hearts racing, the world around them fading away. Slowly, Sanemi pulled back, looking into her eyes with a mixture of tenderness and possessiveness. He gently kissed her forehead, his hands still cradling her face.

"I love you," he whispered, his voice filled with emotion. "I’ll always come back to you."

She nodded, her own eyes glistening with unshed tears. "I love you too, Sanemi. Be safe."

[urbanmethodca]

Commercial Construction Services - Urban Method Development

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[the-marshals-wife]

Cinnamon Sugar (Colt Seavers x Reader)

─ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ⋅☆⋅ 𝐀𝐎𝟑 ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─

A/N: A spontaneous Colt fic because I saw The Fall Guy again and I'm hopelessly in love. Someone needs to get this man his coffee, and it might as well be you. ♥

Description: Colt Seavers x Fem!Reader, flirty fluff | Warnings: nada, just Colt being the supportive sunshine he is | Setting: before Jody (or AU without) | Word count: 2,129 | Gif credit: user tay-swifts

Imagine being Colt's old flame and reuniting under unexpectedly sweet circumstances

As it turns out, production assistant was just a fancy name for errand girl. At least that seemed to be the case for you in the nearly two years you'd held the title. Yet after everything you'd been through to get here, you couldn't lose this job. Nearly an hour after you were supposed to, you haphazardly assembled the daily morning coffees for the sound crew on Stage B, and were now rushing like mad across set to make the first of many apologetic appearances for the day.

"Excuse me, sorry," you repeat nervously as you duck around people.

You'd overslept your alarm after staying up nearly all night printing a mountain of forms for the design director. Having never even eaten breakfast, you calculated if you also skipped lunch, you might be able to catch up to your usual routine. You weave between the tents as fast as your legs will carry you, trying not to bump into anyone and lose your cargo of caffeine.

As you cut the corner around a camera truck, you're fixated on the tray of beverages in your hands, and you don't see the person right in front of you. You collide at full speed.

The tray flies back into your chest. You gasp as the lids of two of the cups pop off and pour coffee all down the front of you and the poor soul you collided with. You recoil and frantically try to catch the other two cups, but you're unsteady from the impact. A strong hand grasps your arm and keeps you from tumbling completely to the ground as you attempt to regain your balance and find purchase in the loose gravel. Despite your efforts to recover, the tray and all its contents falls at your feet. You're left drenched and clinging to the arm that's gripping yours.

You gape down at the mess, frozen in horror.

"I am SO sorry," you begin shakily, "Oh my gosh, I'm so so sorry! I'm such a-"

The second you look up, it feels like time stops, along with your pounding heart. You would know those baby blues anywhere, even through the narrow visor of a helmet. He removes his headgear, and you stare in complete disbelief at the rugged, all-too-familiar face before you.

"Colt?"

"Y/N?"

He sounds equally stunned, his eyes filled with recognition.

"It's you," you breathe.

"It's you," he says, flashing a bewildered smile, "Are you alright? Did you get burned?"

"I'm fine. It was lukewarm anyway" you reply, embarrassed, "Are you okay?"

"Perfect," he nods distantly, "Long time."

"Yeah. Furious Seven set, right?"

"Close. Fate of the Furious," he recalls, "Summer 2016. Havana, and Atlanta."

"That's right. I can never keep the order straight."

"No one can," he laughs, lips twisting into a grin, "You look great."

"So do you," you smile.

Somehow, he'd gotten more handsome than the last time you met. Memories come flooding to the front of your dizzied mind. Many of hot summer nights spent by the pool, and even more of sneaking off together to the hotel rooftops to be alone. Even now, you could still feel the warmth of his strong arms wrapped around you while you talked for hours beneath the stars, sharing your dreams and imagining the future. You'd hoped desperately that he would be in both. And here he was, crashing back into your life and looking at you as if he'd never left.

Knowing you were already slipping back under the spell of his lovesome stare, the coffee dripping off your cheek and down your neck brings you back to reality.

"Oh, look at your suit," you despair at the splatters, attempting to wipe them away with your shirt sleeve, "I'm so sorry, Colt. You know me, always the klutz."

"Don't worry about it. It looks like it's water and coffee resistant," he dismisses, gesturing to the helmet in his hand, "I'm the idiot walking around with this thing on. Just trying to slip away for five minutes without someone yelling at me. Director's got a stick up so far up his backside today, I think it's stabbing his brain, if you know what I mean."

"Oh I definitely do," you grin, followed with a sigh, "I think the whole art department has it out for me at this point."

As you swipe away the last of the obvious drops, your hand lingers on his chest. Blinking, you remember yourself and quickly step back.

"Unfortunately, I don't think my getup is as resistant as yours. Probably should swing by costuming next," you laugh, looking down at your soiled, previously white blouse.

"What am I doing?" Colt admonishes himself before shouting over his shoulder, "Uh, can we get a towel over here, please? Or two? Thank you."

Much to your gratitude, another assistant walking by hands you each a towel a moment later, the studio logo emblazoned on the corner. You hurriedly rub the black linen over your face and turn your focus to your ruined clothes.

"Great service around here," he remarks.

"Coffee delivery notwithstanding," you add.

As he brushes the remaining droplets off his shoulders, his expression turns hesitant. "Oh, you uh, missed a spot. May I?"

You pause wiping at your sleeves and nod to him. He delicately brushes away your hair to dab your temple with his towel, and his touch is almost as soft as his gaze upon you.

"There. Good as new," he declares.

"Thank you," you say, proceeding to wipe at your java-stained jeans in an effort hide your flushed cheeks. "I had no idea they brought you on."

"I've only been here about a week," he explains, clearing his throat, "The last guy's wife just had a baby. I'm just filling in 'til he gets back."

Your stomach sinks at the news, and you try to conceal your disappointment as he continues.

"But yeah, we started the shoot for the big chase scene today. Just wrapped up the opening shots."

"Wow, that's great. I can't believe I haven't seen you around before now. Then again, I don't see the set much while the cameras are rolling. I'm mostly behind the scenes, running all over creation bringing this and that. Speaking of which..." You toss the towel around your neck and squat down to clean up your accident. "I know some people on Stage B who are probably wondering where their drinks are right about now."

Colt takes a knee and retrieves the tray for you, and you begin to stack the empty cups and sticky lids.

"You're not going to get in trouble, are you?" he asks, worry in this voice.

You flinch at the thought, "Not much if I hurry up and remake these."

"Let me help you then."

"You don't have to do that, Colt. I'm sure you're busy."

"I'm on break, and you only dropped them because of me," he insists, "Even if I wasn't, what are they gonna do? Start without me?"

You smile to yourself. There was no arguing with him. He was just as charming as you remembered, and twice as stubborn.

"Alright, you win, Mr. Bigtime Stuntman," you tease.

He holds up the last cup and he raises his eyebrow suspiciously at the letters scribbled in marker on the side.

"What does the 'C.S.' stand for? Colt Seavers?"

"Cinnamon sugar, actually," you chuckle, "Vanilla latte with exactly six shakes of cinnamon sugar on top. Executive producer's favorite. He orders it every single day, no joke."

"That sounds good. I might have to try that myself," he smirks, "Is there like a coffee list I need to put my name on? Or do I just...swing by your trailer?"

"Like they give trailers to production assistants," you scoff, standing up.

Before you can pick up the loaded tray, he snatches it off the ground and jumps to his feet. You know better than to try to take it back from him.

Tucking his helmet under his arm, he gives a little bow. "Lead on, milady."

"The machine's in the catering tent," you giggle, walking in that direction.

"Why are you running around getting coffee for people anyway?" Colt asks, following alongside you, "I thought you were writing the greatest paranormal, pseudo-thriller mystery romance movie of all time? 'Lovers of Lives Past.' What happened with that?"

"You remembered," you say, blushing.

"Of course I remember! I love that story! Did you finish it?"

You frown, reminiscing on the hand that fate had dealt you since you were last together. "My mom had a bad fall, and I took off a year to take care of her. She's better now, but when I got back, I couldn't find any work. The studio wouldn't take me back in my old role. Said they 'downsized the crew.' That included the writer's room. I couldn't even get a spot as a proofreader. When this position finally opened up, I had to take it. It was that or quit the filmmaking world altogether," you sigh, crossing your arms, "I don't know, after being away so long, working on the script didn't seem to matter anymore."

"It does matter. If it means something to even just one person, it matters," he states emphatically, "It matters to you, and it matters to me, so that's already two people right there. Look at you go, Miss Bigtime Hollywood Screenwriter."

His words get a snicker out of you. You'd missed that unbridled enthusiasm of his so very much.

"Oh Colt," you say, shaking your head, "I don't think I have it in me to write a real movie. Besides, you know how quick the landscape changes in this business. No one wants the stupidly optimistic, cheesy stuff I write. They all want gritty, dark scripts or things they can make ten-year franchises out of."

He stops in his tracks and immediately faces you. "Now that's where you're wrong. People want the cheesy. They want the hope, even if they don't know they want it. They need it," he insists, "I know you can do it. I believe in you. But that doesn't matter unless you believe in you."

You stare at him thoughtfully, heart swelling. He was wasting no time reminding you of all the reasons you fell for him in the first place. As if you could ever forget.

"You're sweet," you say.

Sweet. Warm. Inviting. Comforting. Your cinnamon sugar.

He smirks. "It's the vanilla latte."

You start walking once again. The catering tent was close up ahead, and the butterflies in your chest were building up with every step.

"So um, where are you heading next? When the other guy gets back, I mean," you stammer.

"I'm not sure. My schedule is actually pretty open after this," he answers, giving you a coy look, "Why?"

"Just wondering," you say, biting your lip.

"I was thinking of maybe hanging around here a bit. Slow down, take in the scenery, see the sights," he suggests, "You know anyone who could show me around town?"

"I might." You fight to suppress your excitement as you sense his meaning.

"Colt!" someone calls out from behind you, "Pyro wants to talk to you about the ramp launch! They're worried about the impact of explosion on the car with you in it!"

Colt comes to a halt and groans, bowing his head.

"This is why I had the helmet on," he says under his breath.

You look over your shoulder and see that the voice belongs to the stunt coordinator. He had been friendly the few times you'd spoken to him while handing out donuts to the crew, but at present, he looked less-than-thrilled to be delivering that message.

"I see you, man! I know you can hear me!"

He finally turns on his heel to shout back. "Alright, just gimme a minute!"

"Chief wants to see you now. They're almost done prepping the next shot!"

Colt pivots back to you, wincing. "I'm sorry. He always gets intense over fire stuff."

You laugh and take the tray from his hands. "You better go. Wouldn't want you to get in trouble either."

"I'll be back for that coffee. Cinnamon sugar, six shakes exactly," he says with a wink as he steps in the other direction.

You give him a thumbs up. "I'll keep the machine running."

Mere seconds after you turn your back, he calls your name, and you're spinning around again.

"Hey, Y/N?"

"Yes, Colt?"

"Promise me you won't give up on your story?"

"Okay," you agree.

"Say you promise," he points a finger at you, walking backwards, "Say the words."

"I promise I won't give up," you concede, grinning, "Promise me you won't blow up?"

"Cross my heart."

[dhampling]

ivory tower 18+ ASCENDED!ASTARION X AFAB!READER, 4.6K

Something deeply sordid, raw; ungodsly. There’ll be no Lathandrian blessing for your young, no gentle welcome into some family fayre on the outskirts of the city; but you want this.

woah boy! my first ascended astarion piece, so please be kind! dal is back babey! woooo! thank you to @bhaalism and @lipstickghoulie for dealing with me while writing this i love you both endlessly. wc: 4.6k cw: afab reader, female language used. breeding, mind-control, p in v, ascended astarion, public fingering, private banging, great times all round, as always if there are errors no there aren't, creampies, yippee

Baldur’s Gate doesn’t sleep. Not really.

She sometimes slows just enough to find some purchase amongst the muddle, though - tiptoes lazy through highsun in soft linens, the burgeoning swell of soap suds and sunny rosemary through wide open wooden shutters. Lingering - sweat-soaking worn leathers, the sore of the flex in the arch of your foot splayed over cobble. As if to grasp at the memory, your fingers stretch out from your side and on to the dark oak of the armrest, in a moment of sheer jubilance. Summer. The sun. Wide bright mornings. Hopeful and hot as a bated breath. 

The city ambles onward this evening, no different despite the inclement weather and the din of an early darkness. Half-lidded through dark streets as rain smatters the roofs with wet, glistening something dozy under the tall oil street lamps and swirls of ever-present heavy fog. Gurgling whilst each drain fills with water and swallows deep into the sewers. 

Scatters the hay, bears the slip; sings a slow drunken stutter of thunder-wind whiling at the windows into the small hours. There’s a comfort to be found in it. 

The harbour bell will go on to toll for every sail weary ship coming in from the fog; the crescent caress of the Gate’s waiting arms lit low with oily dots of amber. That even this late into the night the bands of trawlers on the dock work crates and barrels into cargo holds with worn hands and ruddy cheeks. The gulls and their scattering squawks. The flapping of their fat feathered wings up into the clouds. 

From where you sit in the Ivory Tower you can hardly see anything at all. Fog obscures the streets to a point, other than the light patches under the oil lanterns out on the ramparts. The window runs dripping wet with condensation. Pools under the pane. 

A hideaway of sorts within the manor. Newly reclaimed by Astarion in some deal with the quivering council in order to keep him sweet. Not that he has any armies of undead in his retainer to command as yet, but they don’t need to know that. There’s time. You’re still blessedly mortal and able.

Astarion. 

He should be skulking the halls somewhere below with that unnerving silent step he’s taken to using. Your cheeks grow warm, the blanket over your shoulders pulled closer into your chest as you allow your mind to run wild; the scald of bliss to your brain like that of some ironmonger’s poker, split straight to the core. 

Your love. Your lover. 

Amongst his many newfound desires and passions seemingly includes the impetus to redesign a centuries-old palace from scratch, and while you doubt he has the want nor willpower to take the project anywhere near to completion you’re more than happy to indulge him during this burst of creativity. A designer’s eye. Lavish yet not ostentatious, he tells you. Your own private wing of the palace, and one you’ll share together. He has no need for his own private chambers. You’re the only one he wants to be beside. You understand that at its essence, it isn’t even necessarily a want to design for creativity’s sake, it’s important to you both to have every memory of the residence’s former owner gone. Every threadbare tread of carpet, every scuff on the wall; every painting being demounted by workers downstairs and shipped to the auction house first thing in the morning. You can hear them if you still enough, heart still beating in your chest and the low chunter of layman gossip.

The version of him you knew before his ascension was so very scared. Beautiful, but wavering. You loved him of course; and you always will  - it was that version of him, the one lost in the wilderness that you fell for, and gods; you fell hard - frenetic and whiny, fleeting as light snow never to settle on the forest floor. Wild-eyed. 

But this Astarion - the real Astarion, as far as he is concerned - has you completely and utterly enraptured each day you wake together, the same as ever, from the second your eyes open. Wrapped in those Daerlunian-import plush linens atop your gargantuan newly-installed four poster bed. Face of marble with those cattish dark lashes and eyes of carnelian crush. Enchants every room he walks into, as he always has. 

You don’t know he’s with you until a hand ghosts your shoulder, sinewy; with those deft pale fingers deep encroaching on your collarbone in his grasp. 

“I didn’t hear you, lover.”

“But I heard you.’

He circles round the velvet armchair, resplendent in his home finery. Not a crease to be seen. Voice soft, yet laced with a bristling concern.

‘Why do you insist on sitting up here?”

You err for a brief moment. 

“I can hear the rain on the roof, here. See some bustle when the fog clears. The city goes on.” You shake your head with a smile as he crouches beside you, nestling his head in the crook of your arm.

“But it’s cold. Dark. Come down - I can light the fire in our sitting room if you like?” 

“We have so many centuries yet to see together! What sense is there in not observing the world as it is now? Keeping record of the city as we saved it?”

His head lifts and his eyes meet yours, some churlish quirk of a brow in the low light.

“An archivist, now? Is that to be your profession alongside me? Whilst you raise our young?”

“If I wish it to be, yes.”

He laughs, a gentle low hum.

“Then an archivist you’ll be - the most renowned in all the lands. We’ll make it so.’ He stands once more and takes your hands from your lap, bringing them clasped to his lips in a soft, lingering kiss. 

‘I’ll begin planning on your archives - I presume you’ll want a library? Or something similar in your wing, maybe even an office. Who knows?”

Astarion looks to the room around you, the shapes covered with old canvas and the rickety floorboards underfoot. Cobwebs in the corner. There’s no grimace nor displeasure. He simply surveys as cool as still water. Objective.

“I’ll have some of the merchants relay their contacts come morning too. If you insist on expanding your territory up here then it must befit you.”

“Befit me?” You grin now. His hold on your hands remains secure.

“If you want me to say it, then I suppose I will. As many times as it takes to get it through that heavy skull of yours.’

His smile reaches his eyes as he circles back behind your chair, fingers splayed over your shoulders once more in a deep round kneading pattern.

‘There’s nothing you won’t have if you want for it. Nothing too good for you to covet, my solace; Saviour to the whole Sword Coast and every plain mite within its bounds.’

There’s a small pause as he bows to kiss the top of your head.

‘And I thank the stars every day that I can provide for you. That you saw the potential in me and lifted me higher, to such profane glory amongst the swill of common man. That my gold, my influence, and terror, and each lift of my blade is at your command and yours alone. That you stayed at my side.” 

He doesn’t like to mention the gods, hence the stars. Pointedly brings the grimace back into play, occasionally even furrows with the slightest twinge of anger brewing at his brow. The gods had no role to play in your shared victories. No divine intervention saved him from two hundred years of torment, from certain death after the crash of the nautiloid along that sun-soaked span of rocky beach;-

You did. You with your strange inclination toward the weak man he once was. The shell he lived in like a hermit crab on the shore, nothing more.

-

On bright days, you thank him for giving you time.

Time to live, time to breathe with full lungs. Time to allow you to burn your eyes in the beating sun with a silver pot of fresh coffee and whatever ridiculous spew the papers hold between the pages today. 

You know as you sit in comfortable silence that your time dwindles, and that your turning is inevitable. Your eternal wedded bliss is to be alongside him and will be as vivid in nature as all the colours of the astral plane, if he’s to be believed - and there’s no reason not to see his word as gospel. You can see each moment as crystalline as sea glass on sand. Forever with the man you love more than you’ve ever felt inclined to love anything. The bridal ceremony is but a drop in the vast ocean of your lives together. 

He thanks you too. Often alongside you with eyes closed in some dozy recline, forearm hanging lazily whilst he takes the sun on his skin like a blessing. A loose linen shirt akin to the one he wore back at camp at the start of your journey together, strings wide open, a blaze of blinding flesh at the corner of your eye each time he shifts.

The veranda on a clear day. Astarion has assured you he’ll never take this from you. He’ll never take anything that you don’t willingly give him with a clear heart - and why would you give him your ability to bask in the sun, like a street cat in days-warm dust? What purpose does that serve either of you, beyond making you a less useful weapon in his prized arsenal?

At one point, all you wanted was to talk to him - and it rings true even now. The want to be the bearer of all his tales. To learn about him, to be close to him; to hear him tear the world apart with that dulcet snarl, walking alongside each other on the barren dirt trails out in the wilderness. Hop-skipping to keep up with his quiet gait. Giving him back as good as you got. The glimmer of his hair in the sunlight, the way he’d sometimes just stop.

Close his eyes. Feel the heat. The gentle burn of highsun on tender flesh. A soft inhale.

That morning out in the clearing after your first night together. Arms outstretched in a welcome to the light. It had taken a few minutes for it to click as you’d silently watched on, why his sun salutation was so fond. So open.

It’s to be a long engagement with regard to your transformation whilst the manor undergoes renovations. Reason after reason as to why now isn’t the ideal time to commit you to eternity. You know why he wants to keep a hold on your precious mortality for the time being, of course; and that keeps you from the forever embrace of his Dark Kiss. It never changes. 

You’ll allow him to sire your children. You want him to. Crave it. Him.

Your very own lineage together, he whispers; frenzied by your ear as his fingers crawl the bare span of your thigh. He can breed you full like fate intended and you’ll have something - besides him - that’ll also last forever. Something of your own surpassing the death of all of your contemporaries. The Vampire Ascendant and The Saviour of Baldur’s Gate, flesh-on-flesh, skin smacking skin; his debauched groans and lewd whimpers as he buries himself inside you, your cooing breaths;-

You’ll wed normally too, for the interested eyes of the city. Some dull ceremony with the elites adorning all tables as gilded pieces might some decorative chess board, deceptive vows. Legally it makes things easier should anything befall either of you but the hassle almost makes the whole thing undesirable - gods, especially because he already treats you as some smitten newlywed might. Adores you. Follows you around the manor, stalking; like some wolf cub after its mother. Carries you to bed each evening and ploughs you senseless, until spit gathers in the corners of your wet, wanting mouth and you can’t see straight through grey-blear eyes.

He likes the idea of you taking his name by law. Melds with your own like it were meant to be, from the starter threads of whatever cosmic tapestry pulled you together, the marriage of your first name to his last, interwoven by a scholar’s hand in gold-shining delicate point.  

Ancunín. The House of.

Tapestries. Large, spanning the halls. The Sarsantyr's over in Waterdeep - they’ll be able to create what you’re picturing. 

A familiar gaze meets yours. It’s then that you realise you aren’t alone in your mind once more

“If you want tapestries, you only have to ask.” 

“In fairness - you didn’t give me a chance to.”

He hums, tilting his head a little in the sun’s glare.

“I’ll send for them. The Sarsantyr's, yes? Have them pack up all their little-’

He pulls a face and lifts his hands in some kind of puzzled shake.

‘Sewing bits? Textiles? I’ll send carriages. They can come and stay in the lower rooms. Create the masterpiece you envision.” Astarion sniggers a little at the thought of putting them in the old dormitory while you remain lost in thought.

“Okay. Check them through first though, yes? 

The real event - the wedding - will give you total ecstasy beyond your wildest preconception, you know this. Unfettered and euphoric. Books and books on the topic stacked clumsily beside your bed, reds and greens; the turning of a vampire bride in leather bound prose. You know what to expect in florid detail. You know to trust your lover, that the rabid creature you’ll become is only a temporary mental state precursing an eternity alongside him. 

And yet, you wonder about the children. They’ll be here by then. However many he decides is enough, naturally; assumedly under the care of some hired help whilst you engage in your thoroughly bastardised pastiche of a wedding ceremony. You laugh now. He’s still in your head, mulling over your thoughts as soon as you can think them. 

Will you miss them? Will they be your last thought before you pass away; Astarion unable to complete this ritual alone as he was unable to before? Will your death lead to his, leaving your dhampir offspring to ravage Baldur’s Gate unsupported by the windfall of knowing parents? There’s still no hesitation, though. You will bear his young. You want to. The consequences either way are vast and long-lasting, and you’d rather be at his side than facing his ire- 

“Love, what are these thoughts? What on earth is going on in that very pretty head of yours today?” His voice is a low drawl, pitying yet laced with affection. He sits straight in his chair whilst a hand lazily searches for yours atop the sun-warmed table; beyond the scope of the ramparts wall the low meander of city life continues on.

“Mulling things over.”

“You don’t need to do that, pet. Come now.’ He beckons you onto his lap and wraps his arms around your middle, hand searching for the soft pillow of your chest as your ass backs up to his abdomen.

‘You want me to make it better?” 

You nod gently, the sun catching your eye in a particularly bright beam and making you squint. 

“Please.”

“Poor thing. It’s okay.” As he coos; one hand finds the curve of soft flesh at your chest, holding the weight of your breast firmly as he starts lightly thumbing at the nipple through your nightshirt.

“There, now. Good girl.” Your head falls back onto his shoulder, a deep sigh as he lulls you into a new state of calm astride him. Birds sing overhead whilst you nuzzle his neck.

“I will miss this warm flesh of yours, you know. Terribly so.’ His other hand moves to your nightskirt, gently hitching the material bit-by-bit up your thighs until you sit exposed to the air. Nobody can see you from here - the faceless crowd little but colourful dots below; Astarion giving a small tense laugh as he feels your pulse quicken against him. 

He toys with your skirt, edging ever nearer your exposed cunt; and your eyes flutter closed. 

‘But the greater purpose… I just can’t let it go. Us. Our lives together. I sincerely doubt you want to wither away to age; to lose your extraordinary beauty-’

A gentle groan as he feels your warmth.

‘Do you, my most precious flower?” 

“Of- Of course I don’t. I want to be with you, as we are; forever.”

“Then we’re going to need to make a concerted start on the only thing setting us back, are we not?” His fingers gently tap on the crux of your pubic bone, threateningly close to your clit. You feel the familiar seep of your slit leaking onto the bunched skirt fabric and you think of honey. Some kind of sweet glaze.

“Yes.”

As you sink further into him his fingers move down just a little to meet your clit; and in response to your delighted sighs he very lightly begins to stroke either side of the engorged flesh. There’s no urgency to his movement nor his demeanour; just a treacle-thick teasing grin as he turns his head to kiss your blazing cheek.

“Good.”

There’s something borderline celestial about the gentle way he touches you, coaxing more of your slick from you with every gentle jerk. He deftly motions ‘come hither’ with a soaking middle finger dipping lightly at your hole then brings your arousal up to wetten your clit once more.

“You want this, don’t you?” A finger slips down to your cunt, this time slipping and nestling deep inside as you feel yourself writhe on him. One arm scrambles around the back of his neck to support yourself while he begins to curl at your spongy spot, and the anchor of your arousal shifts free.

“I’ve been rifling through that glorious mind of yours these past few days and I see you now. You want comfort. To comfort. To seek shelter in those warm lights on the horizon, to know you aren’t alone in the late hours.”

You nod furiously, wincing, desperate to feel him deeper. Thicker. You need more, your fox-eyed paramour giving only the barest minimum he can do to watch you squirm.

“You, with my babe in arm;- oh the image alone does things to you, doesn’t it?”

It’s as if he’s creating the visions in your head as he speaks them, bringing them to the forefront of your mind in hushed coos and silent gasps. As if by magic, the only thing on your mind is a primal need for him to fuck you full. Nothing else, no mind for coffee nor completed manor renovations. 

You will be round. You will brim with life before he turns you, and you’ll take to his seed the minute he offers it to you. You’ll accommodate him like no other across Toril could hope to. You wonder if he has the power to decide how many, as he adds another finger to your unbridled torment. If he could choose to speed the process up with a celebration of twins, triplets. An heir and two spares. Maybe he’d wait instead until the first was born, just to ensure the viability of his bloodline. A test.

He’s doing this; you become starkly aware as he withdraws his fingers, spiderwebs of glistening drool clinging to your inner thigh as he brings them between his lips and suckles. He’s giving you these ideas of grandeur because he can. Because you are his. Because you wouldn’t want to belong to anyone else, to be tied to any other notion of whatever a fulfilling life is, if it weren’t one shared wholly by him. With him.

“Let me take you inside, sweet one. Let’s take care of you properly, shall we? Curb this fever, hm?”

Please, you think. Please take this burning hole in my womb and make it full with you. Extinguish the flame with your unholy spend and give me children. Give me oud and orchids and a life of warmth, however long we both may live.

“Use your words, my love. Tell me you want this.”

“I want this. Please.”

-

On the bed you now lie, the room cool and dark; balcony doors open wide with light-billowing curtains. Sweat consumes you as your thoughts run wild, the smell of your arousal, clammy hands and deep breaths in the low light. Astarion approaches like something from a dream, shirtless now; smirk plastered cheek-to-cheek as he leans over your trembling form with confidence - your lust-addled fingers reaching for his steady form like a ship to harbour. 

“You want to feel it, little dove? Feel how you set me alight?”

He pries your wrist from him with gentle urgency, taking your hand under his and skating both downwards; down the plane of his tight torso, slowing to a stop just above his pelvis.

“Tell me - do you want to feel it?”

A small smirk plays at the corner of your lips, but he doesn’t seem to notice - watching the way your hand twitches under his.

“Hm?”

His groan is guttural. Thick. He doesn’t even try to mask it, eyes wide as his hand shifts yours just a little further down and over the blistering burn of his heavy cock through loose linen trousers. A hazy sigh as he moans a small whimper at your touch.

“Please, Astarion. I beg you.”

It’s like his fingers are enchanted, the way they reduce you to this sodden mess. Unable to think unless guided delicately by his superior whim. 

“I need to bury myself inside you fully for this to take. I need your full attention, submission; your devotion to our lives together. Do I make myself clear?”

He’s giving you one final chance to withdraw. Your head clears for one sweet moment and you can do little else but stare at his bulge with heavy lids and your mouth agape.

“Crystal. I ache for you. Please, give this to me.”

You lift to meet him in a soft kiss, jaw slackened and cunt ablaze. Nothing else matters, no complications, nor possibilities of horribly mangled spawn from your womb as a result of your copulation. This scalding stupor that sends you insane won’t go away until he quenches it with his seed. 

Your response has satisfied him, if the way he stands sharpish and unties his trouser laces is anything to go by. The glassy head of his cock stands purple at his stomach, leaking wild at the slit and red-hot as your hand reaches blindly for him in your hunger.

He gently taps you away and back down onto the sheets. 

“Magic?” You hear yourself mumble, still amazed at how surely swollen he must feel with how sore he looks. Has to be. 

“Just me.”

There’s a tenderness in his eyes as he crawls back over you, legs instinctively parting and lifting at the knee to accommodate him. Something that compels him to hold your face in the hand that isn’t supporting his weight and just look at you, fondly; for what feels like an age.

Then he shifts once more to angle himself, decidedly spending no more time on preparation. The heat of his cock against your slit is unlike anything you’ve ever known, dizzying yet pleasurable; hard and yet still yielding, and as he thrusts a shallow dip into your core you swear you see angels overhead. Yes, you’re ready. You’ve never been more ready for anything than you are for the sheer ecstasy you know he’s about to give you, and he’s going to give you it in droves. Seismic tremors as he shifts a little and you adjust to him once again.

He nods. He hears you. 

Then, he snaps once more; and he’s lost.

Each glub of his cock meeting your spill as he ruts into you; the way you feel it running downward in long dribbles, with each and every mindless hump of his hips eking more honey from your cunt in spades. 

You hear the sounds of your shared carnal pleasure and it makes you clench around him in some kind of self-perpetuating cycle. Groans and whimpers and moans and hisses and the frequent egregious slaps to your thighs whilst he chases his high. 

He’s perfect like this. Halo of curls above you, voice silken as he calls you every pet name under the sun, his, always. Your legs ache already from being wound so tightly, interlocked around him, and you think of the prespill inside you already. How each fangy showman’s smile means he’s twitching at your cervix and leaking molten gold inside you with every thrust. 

It’s not until he nuzzles down to your neck that you remember to offer it, potentially for the last time on this mortal coil. 

“Are you asking?”

“Well, you didn’t offer.”

The immediate pang is one of violent nausea, subsiding quickly into a wooze coating the bottom of your stomach in black tar as he fucks upward. Unease. There’s something in his spit, you assume. Something that makes the gaping wounds a little more bearable, a little less raw as he kitten-licks the flesh between swallows. Ice courses your veins with adrenaline as it always does.

Astarion chokes down his first sip with an eager cough. The burgeoning panic wracking your limbs turns into a numbed haze as your lover feasts, big neat gulps whilst he clutches at your ribcage with fingers splayed deep and cock buried to the hilt, like a man starved. His hair tickles  at your jaw, the smell of something herbal. Slightly lemony. 

He splutters that he’s close and you feel yourself nearing your peak too.

There’s a profane desecration in what he’s doing, painting your walls in an attempt to get you pregnant. Something deeply sordid, raw; ungodsly. There’ll be no Lathandrian blessing for your young, no gentle welcome into some family fayre on the outskirts of the city. No villages to raise them, no cards nor flowers from friends or family; but you want this. 

You want him to taint you in his particular shade of crimson, visibly; so the realms know who made The Saviour of Baldur’s Gate come to heel. The man who compelled her through sheer love alone and to whom she gave everything. The indomitable force for whom you’ll die, only to resurrect forever as his.

Visions of your turning don’t scare you - all lightning and thunder, the cries of your dhamplings in some nursery down the towering halls of your palatial wing; and yet you’ll be safe in his caress. He wouldn’t let a single thing happen to you. He won’t. 

And as he cums; he calls your name.

Some rhythmic prayer over and over again; and with each kick of his cock he loses some of his bedroom charm and hurtles back to earth, humbly enraptured. More candid. His weary muscles tighten as yours threaten your own release around him.

“Cum for me, now. Milk me.” in a heavy whisper whilst he strokes the soft flesh of your cheek; and you do. You cum harder than you can remember ever before. Each wave of sheer pleasure some blackout tidal wave as you writhe, staccato in his arms. 

If you die during the ceremony, you’ll die happy. Should the younglings bite their way through your womb, it won’t matter.

You’re loved. He loves you, in soft kisses and gentle arms carried all the way to the waiting washtub. In the way he sponges your aching shoulders and brings a washcloth to your dazed face.

Baldur’s Gate doesn’t sleep, not really.

But tonight it will, in the patient, visceral bliss of calm before a summer storm.

[starsweets]

here's an adopt i finished yesterday- a flower based pool toy who uses its sprinkler tail to water flowers! they're $75 (a little more expensive than usual since there's some extra effort in this design), and you can dm me here or check out their toyhou.se listing to purchase! they're sold now!!

reblogs are appreciated!

[bradandchris]

Chris threw in the last towel for his burgeoning line of men's underwear after learning his boyfriend Brad sourced the prototypes by purchasing them directly from SKIMS.

Finally connecting why they took a sheet to the beach that one day, Brad found it difficult to pay attention to a lecture on copyright infringement from someone involved in such an oversight debacle. It was also hard not to wonder what the grey skintight suit might look like wet.

Brad was far from alone. Everyone in the closest row of cabana's would hold their breath every time Brad took a small step backwards toward the pool in his highly animated and passionate speech oddly championing someone with billions, a team of lawyers, and the law already in their favor.

She was also a lawyer herself... or at minimum on her way. It was difficult to keep up with bar exam news between Klhoe's lackluster clap back's and finding yourself justifying why not a single man has managed to remain on the show despite secretly feeling not so hot about that. It was a lot with nowhere to go, especially considering the level of sophistication fronted.

Brimming with frustration at his boyfriend's antics, Chris snapped and rushed Brad midsentence to land them both squarely in the pool. Everyone on deck was already on the edge of their seat as they surfaced.

Well… Let's just say Kim K deserves every single dollar she has as the pool deck literally broke out in applause at the sheer glean and mind-blowing accentuation of Brad's perfect nipples. It was breathtaking. It was the only time the two of them wished California was more humid and colder.

Despite the gray suit's flawlessness, Brad and Chris still managed to one up the design. The incident inspired them to launch a new brand of swimwear composed completely of dissolvable materials called ‘Sorry But Not Sorry SKIMMY.’ The initial investor would convince Brad and Chris to shorten the name to ‘But SKIMMY’ to transform it into the ultimate macho answer to the curvaceous clothing line.

Ironically, Brad and Chris’ venture would fail because no one could materialize a profitable dissolvable.

[thebucketpail]

When You Accidentally Kill a Clown pt.4

Alright bestie you know the drill. Uh, this one's a bit longer than usual though. Enjoy?

Pt.1

To say Danny was having a bad day would be the understatement of the century. Well it wasn’t really a bad ‘day’ more like a terrible series of events that just kept getting worse. Oddly enough, though, this terrible horrible day did not start with killing the Joker, then promptly getting interrogated by a surprisingly cute serial killer/ crime boss/ vigilante. In fact it actually started seven hours earlier at around 4 o’clock in the afternoon. Danny’s roommate had practically kicked him out of the dorm so he could have ‘date night with his girlfriend’ but it was said in a way that made Danny nope out of there real fast.

‘It’s fine, I’ll just use this time to explore Gotham a bit,” he thought to himself. Turns out Gotham, with its incredibly high crime rate and massive amount of curses - seriously? How could one city be this cursed- has a lot of ghosts. Ghosts that seem to be very happy someone can see them. This would have been fine, Danny would have been happy to help, If they hadn’t swarmed him.

Mere moments after he had addressed a shade Danny had found themself in the middle of a mob, shades, imprints, spirits, etc, all vying for attention, help with something here, or just plain attention.

It took them 3 hours to lose the mob.

And it wasn’t even all of them, a few blob ghosts clung to him as he explored the piers, shades following at his heels, weaving in and out of shadows bringing general bad luck because of course, why not.

Danny just wanted a scoop of icecream? Sorry it fell on the floor. Oh look at that his shoes are untied, would be a shame if he- ouch that must have hurt. Just trying to sit on a bench and relax? Aww that's a cute seagull, here have some of Danny’s pretzel. Okay thats enough- ow what the fuck? Ack no stop! stop-!

So yeah, exploring the pier turned out to be not the most safe idea for all the strangest reasons. Danny had to leave before the shades did any real damage like throwing him into the bay, or splitting the boardwalk underneath him.

Danny had just lost yet another pack of attention seeking ghosts when he felt the eyes. It was the uncomfortable prickling that made the hair on his arms and neck stand on end. “Just find a place to get dinner, it’ll be fine," he thought, quickening his pace toward the batburger he had designated on a map he’d found at the pier.

Now what Danny didn’t know, being new to town and all, was that Park Row was not a place you should be walking by yourself, at night, with black hair and blue eyes. That was just asking for trouble, and oh boy trouble they got. Before a single thought could flash through their head, Danny had been pulled into an alley, a large figure pinning their hands behind their back. Danny twisted around, trying to gain purchase and maybe get a look at their attackers face, but stiffened as they spoke, low and gruff.

“Awww what’re you doing in crime alley all alone kiddie?” he crooned, “Don’t you know it's not safe?” Danny’s growing panic reached a peak as another figure melted out of the shadows of the dingy alley, “Boss, what do you think? He could be a Wayne." The ‘Boss’ leaned forward to inspect Illuminated by a nearby streetlight. Danny’s eyes blew wide at the painted white face, impossibly huge smile, puke green hair, and pristine purple suit in front of him.

He hardly heard him berate the goon

“This isn’t a Wayne you imbecile, it's just some random street rat” Hey

“But- he could be, he fits the bill,” the conversation drowned out as Danny stared, stock still. They could feel the ectoplasm in their blood pooling at their fingertips, the tingling sensation sending prickles down their spine.

The last thought that crossed their mind before a flash of green enveloped the alley was; ‘Fuck, I hate clowns.’

When the light died down they were free, the goon a few feet away on the ground, eyes wide in shock or horror, they couldn’t tell. Danny, eyes no doubt still glowing, followed his gaze to the crumpled purple mass at his feet. Oh shit.

“You- you- I’m getting out of here,” the goon shouted, pointing a shaking finger at him as he scrambled away. Danny just stared down at the clown in shock. Sure he’d fought a lot of dead people but ancients he’d never killed someone himself. Taking a deep breath he tried remembering those grounding tricks Jazz had taught him to ward off panic. He focused on his breathing, closing his eyes as the steady rhythm of his too slow heart beat in his ears. After a few moments he exhaled deeply, running a shaking hand through his hair as the other reached for his phone.

And, well, we know this part.

-------

It was almost 1 am by the time Hood got Danny back to their dorm. They had of course protested that they didn’t need the escort and it's all fine- because truly Danny had no intentions of returning to their dorm- but Hood had insisted, continuing the interrogation as they walked.

“Do you have any siblings”

“two”

“Where are you from?”

“illinois”

“What's your favorite color?”

“Green probably”

At the very least the questioning served to calm Danny’s nerves and distract them from the less-than-happy thoughts. There was also something about Hood that made Danny’s core pull in his chest. Aside from very obviously smelling like death- something he had chalked up to being a serial killer/ crime boss/ vigilante - the man kept making his ghost sense go off, but it always caught in his throat rather than escaping. Danny had almost choked the first time and it was starting to get annoying, it reminded him of being around Vlad. It piqued his interest regardless.

So when the noises coming through the door confirmed that; no, Danny should not go try entering his dorm and that he would definitely not be getting what little sleep his body could manage after the night’s events, he decided on some reconnaissance. Because if he wasn’t getting sleep, he would be at least getting answers for that weird feeling. He let invisibility wash over him and retraced his steps back to the building entrance. Hood was long gone but it didn’t matter. Danny soon took to the sky, staying low enough he wasn’t breathing in the dense clouds

of smog but still high enough to scan the streets from above the rooftops.

It felt amazing honestly. He hadn’t been able to fly since before he got to Gotham, and while it the air wasn’t as clean and the sky wasn’t a glowing blanket of stars like it was in Amity, but with the rush of wind, subtle glow of the street lights, and the soft din of night traffic, it still reminded him of home. In a way it was peaceful, if you discounted the ever present police sirens, occasional pop of gunfire, and general filthiness of the city.

As Danny wove through the street and alleys of Gotham he couldn’t help but to think about his hometown. He knew Amity would be protected of course. The GIW hadn’t been a threat since the Meta Human protection acts were passed, even though ghosts weren’t considered metas the investigation had been enough to disband the agency. His parents probably couldn't pose too much of a threat to any ghosts, especially with the portal being closed (he'd made Valerie promise to keep it shut, since she'd decided to stay in Amity), and even if someone from his rogues gallery managed to make it through, Red Huntress was more than capable to handle it.

Jazz had even managed to drill it into their head that Danny wasn’t responsible for the protection of Amity, as much as they thought they were. Being a hero didn’t make them happy, at least not in the way they were. Danny actually loved helping people, and fighting his rouges on occasion. But being Phantom was so stressful, the late nights, the missed school, the barely dodged calls to cps, it was all so much. So Danny had given up Phantom just in time to start senior year. Granted it was a little late to completely turn his academic career around, but he made an effort and now he’s studying Engineering at Gotham University on a near complete scholarship from the Wayne foundation. All of this though and Danny still felt an inkling of worry for his town, even if it was in capable hands. He was working on it though.

He knew back at the start of senior year that he wouldn’t be able to hang up Phantom forever, afterall he was a part of Danny that couldn’t be ignored (it would quite literally be detrimental to his health), that and the fact that he existed on the precipice of life and death meant he would always have some ghost or another vying for his attention. One of his regulars wanting a fight, someone new deciding they want to test his mettle, or just a lower powered ghost wanting some help, and as long as it didn’t affect his schedule too much or get him too high on the Bats radar Danny would be happy to oblige.

So he didn’t mind it much when, after he’d started losing hope in finding Hood - Damn that guy can disappear- he felt his ghost sense go off. The sharp air escaped his lungs in a sudden gasp, never failing to stop his chest for a moment. Danny felt the ice melt in his mouth as he scanned the streets for whomever had set it off. He couldn’t see anything but something- someone- was pulling at his core, beckoning him to a nearby rooftop.

There wasn't anything special about this particular building, just an old beat down 24/7 convenience store. Danny flew around it a few times before landing gently on the roof’s edge. They didn't know what they should be looking for as the area seemed to be entirely empty. But his confusion proved to be short lived when the surrounding shadows seemingly condensed in front of them. The dim and flickering neon sign to their left somehow got dimmer and more flickery, and what little moonlight that had wormed its way through the thick clouds was all but swallowed by the swirling mass of shadow.

The massive shadow was towering almost three feet over Danny by the time it began taking shape. And it wasn’t quite humanoid, but the flowing gown and veil reminded them of a mourning widow. Her eye glowed a flickering grey, and her skin was made of the same shadow as her gown. She was beautiful, Danny’s breath caught in their throat. They didn’t know why, but they dropped to one knee, bowing their head to the shadowy figure.

The woman chuckled, a sweet chirping sound that echoed and reverberated around the rooftop. When she spoke, her voice was just more than a whisper, yet sweet and full, even behind that recognisable Jersey accent, “Rise child.” Danny obeyed. “You are powerful, young one, I can see it in you.” Her eyes flickered to Danny’s chest, hovering just where his core sat. “You are the ghost child from Amity, yes? I’ve heard much about you and your exploits. I must say, not many could go toe to toe with Pariah Dark and come out victorious.”

Danny’s tongue felt heavy in his mouth as he nodded, “It was difficult, but I had help.”

The woman hummed, “Even still. Is it true he still exists? In the forever sleep, you have not yet consumed his core?”

“I- no I have not,” Danny said. This was another of those things Danny had decided to ignore. A few months after they had locked Pariah away the Observants had tracked him down at school, resulting in a panicked request for the bathroom and a whole week of strife. Apparently, according to ghost politics, Danny had become heir to the crown of the ghost king. All that belonged to Pariah was now Danny’s, won in single combat. And if the news that he would become the new King of The Infinite Realms wasn’t enough, he had also been informed that to take the throne he would have to consume Pariah’s core, just as he had done when he won the throne from his predecessor.

This news had overloaded Danny’s brain and he had spent the past three years pointedly ignoring that fact about his half life. He’d get around to it… eventually. Luckily three years wasn’t much time for immortal floating eyeballs so it hadn’t become much of an issue. But he’d run out of time and would have to face the music at some point.

“But it is true that Pariah still exists, in eternal slumber for the time being.” He continued, squirming under the woman’s scrutinous gaze, “Ah, but if you don’t mind me asking, who are you?”

This elicited another set of giggles from the woman, err, girl? She had shrunk to the size of a young girl in a knee length black dress, a feathered beret sitting on a curly bob of dark hair. Her giggles grew, consuming the rooftop in the joyous sound. The laughing ceased as the young girl tilted her head to the side, just a little too far for a human. A grin spread wide across her face and something sparked in her eyes.

“I am Lady Gotham, princling, I thought that was obvious…” She trailed off for a moment then continued with renewed enthusiasm, “ I heard that you are a protector of your hometown, do you intend to assist my knights while you are here?”

Lady Gotham, Danny had heard of her. The supposed amalgamation of everything that made the city what it was. A combination of the pain and suffering as well as the fierce stubbornness and love of those who called the city home. Being a spirit she wasn’t seen often in the Ghost Zone, but those who passed through the veil brought stories of their protectoress. A Lady fierce, vindictive and unforgiving to those she considered an enemy. A being that collected curses like postage stamps. But also one who cared deeply for her city, and even more so for her knights who cared for her just as much.

Danny felt humbled in her presence.

He ducked his head, sheepish as he answered her, “My apologies my Lady, I have long since hung up my cape to pursue the remainder of my life. But should you call for my help I will not hesitate to do all in my power to aid you, or your knights.”

Lady Gotham hummed, pleased, “I appreciate the promise I will keep it in mind. After all, just tonight you have already helped my city so much. I want you to know that no matter how it may weigh on you; what you did was good. By taking his life you saved countless more, accident or no. And for that I thank you.” Stunned, Danny nodded. “I am afraid I must depart now, holding form isn’t difficult but I must say it makes it harder to spread my shadows. I wish you the best princling.” The girl before him smiled then melted -like actually melted- into a pool of shadow at Danny’s feet. As the cloud dissipated, the faint light of the convenience store returned, casting a dim staticky glow.

Danny stood mulling over her words for a few moments before laying down on the roof’s edge. The silence was punctuated only by the faint buzzing of electricity emitted from the neon sign, but it did little to distract him from the thoughts he’s been running from all night.

The thought that he had actually killed someone.

What Lady Gotham hada said was probably true, the Joker's death was a good riddance, he had killed tens-of-thousands, and probably tens-of-thousands more. Taking him out of the equation was a good thing. But that didn’t change the fact that Danny had killed him. Danny had never killed a person before, not directly at least. He wasn’t deaf to the notion that some people may have died during one of his ghost fights, in fact he was painfully aware of each person he had failed to save. But he had never been at direct fault for a murder until now. It shook him to the bones.

Did this make him a murderer?

He stewed in these thoughts for hours, only being pulled from them by an inkling of sunlight breaking through the towering buildings hitting his eyes. Groaning, he sat up, painfully aware of how tired he was. “Probably not getting any sleep though” He could feel the bags under his eyes growing with the lack of sleep. However he did manage to get off the roof and transform back into his living form, ‘need coffee’ He thought blearily as he began making his way down the street, maybe he’d find a shop or something.

What he did not expect was to be pulled into an alley for the second time that night (Morning? Oh what does it matter he’s getting mugged).

Their assailant, no more than two inches shorter than Danny with an unkempt beard and suspiciously stained shirt, had them pinned to the wall, a knife at their throat.

“Empty your pockets!” he shouted, digging the knife further against their skin. Danny suppressed a yawn, they really did not have enough energy to deal with this. Luckily they didn’t have to. The rumbling of a motorcycle filled the air as a blur of red and black turned into the alley. The mugger barely had time to shout “Hey!” before Red Hood decked him in the face.

“Twice in eight hours?” He asked, the grin almost audible in his voice as Hood tied up the man, “I know you’re not from here, but that’s still gotta be some kind of record,” Honestly Danny would have been more upset if he wasn’t so tired, but even so;

“Wee it’s not like I’m Trying to get attacked. I just wanted some fucking coffee,” he ground out.

“At four in the morning?”

“It’s almost six,” Danny muttered after sneaking a quick glimpse at his watch - a black digital one with little blob ghosts on it, a gift from Dani. “Besides it’s not like I was planning on sleeping anytime soon,” he continued. That same weird feeling from earlier tugged at his core during the silence that followed. Of there being a ghost nearby, but his cold gasp getting caught in his throat before escaping. Danny could almost feel the thrum of another core, but there was something muffling it. It made Danny wrinkle his nose.

Despite his wish to investigate the fact of Hood’s weird probably-a-core, Danny also really wanted to get out of this awkward situation. But hey it seemed like Hood was stalking him anyway so this probably wouldn’t be his only chance.

“I should probably be going now,” they said, moving to exist the grimy alley, stepping over the unconscious form of his would-be-mugger-#2. “Don’t worry, I’ll be a bit more careful this time,” They threw over their shoulder with a grin before leaving.

A weight settled on their shoulder as they walked away. Ancients this night was eventful. Hopefully their roommate was finally finished with ‘date night’ enough to allow Danny a couple hours of sleep. But first; coffee.

+++++

Humans I am so sorry for this chapter (because yes it's a chapter). I was just going to write another little installment from Danny’s Pov and then ended up with over 3k words which is like adding up the word counts of all three other chapters. But i think it turned out good so win some lose some. Anyway, all the exposition is out of the way so we’ll be going back to silly goofy fun times now. Also sorry about the kind-of angst, I didn’t mean to, it just appeared.

What were your thoughts on Lady Gotham? I’m fairly happy with how I wrote her, she will definitely be returning

No I will not add you to the tag list, I don't mean to be mean but I just down have the brain power for that <3

Subscrib to the Ao3

Pt 5

[xsweetcatastrophe]

You Broke Me First

part 32

how the hell do I have 32 parts of this thing already

xx

Zoe stretched out in the king sized bed, reaching out for her phone to shut off the alarm.

She had ever intention of going into the office today. However, since she was at Cillian's, it was adding an extra 15-20 minutes on to her commute, as well as having to feed Scout and let him out before she left.

Before she could even consider hitting the snooze button, she heard Scout scratching at the door. She dragged the comforter off and got out of bed, unwillingly. She opened the door and was greeted by Scout, sitting patiently at the door with his tail wagging. The second she took a step forward, he leaped towards the stairs and raced down them, making a mad dash for the kitchen.

"okay, okay," Zoe said, following him through the kitchen and to the back french doors that opened up to the large, fenced-in back yard. She opened the door and Scout ran out, sniffing the grass immediately, looking for the perfect spot to go to the bathroom.

It was still early, and the sun had just come up. It was Zoe's favorite time of the day, when the day was still so new and perfect, the birds were starting to softly chirp, the sun wasn't too hot. The calm before the storm, the serenity before the chaos.

The home came with a deck, perfect for outdoor seating and a fire pit. However, Cillian hasn't purchased one yet. Zoe couldn't wait to have her morning coffee out there, and maybe build a fire and roast marshmallows there on chilly nights with Cillian.

Zoe retreated back into the kitchen and made herself a cup of coffee. She opened up the cabinet she designated for Scout's food, and took out a scooper and filled his bowl for his breakfast and gave him some fresh water. Scout was already at the door, whining to come in. Zoe let him in and he went straight for his food, ready for breakfast.

Okay, going to eat something quick, let Scout out after he eats, then go upstairs and shower quick and change, make it to the office and pray the traffic gods are on my side so I can have a spare 5 minutes to stop for more coffee, Zoe thought, mentally going through her to do list for the morning.

Zoe looked at her laptop sitting on the counter. Checking my emails couldn't hurt, she thought. She took a seat, opened up her laptop and logged in.

the first email was from her sister, which wasn't unusual, but the subject line was what caught her eye.

"WTF is this shit," Zoe read the subject line out loud, as she clicked open.

In the body of the email was a link to a Daily Mail article, and it made her stomach drop.

Party like a Shelby! Cillian Murphy Spends Time With New Lady as Peaky Blinders Cast Grabs Dinner and Drinks

Zoe read it 7 times, as if it was going to change in front of her eyes.

He told me he was working late. He was at dinner? Why couldn't he just say he was at dinner?

Zoe scrolled down, and saw photos of the cast, and in the background was Cillian and a tall blonde woman smiling at him. In other photos, she was laughing with him, putting her hand on his shoulder.

What is she laughing at? he's not THAT funny, Zoe thought.

Zoe continued to scroll:

Cillian Murphy might have been called to begin filming, but that doesn't mean the fun has to end. Murphy, 46, was spotted out at Harry's Bar in London. Joining him at the posh bar was the rest of his Peaky Blinders cast, including new cast member Lizzie Hughes, who joined the cast last minute for season six. Previously modeling for Versace in their latest campaign, she excited to spread her wings and jump into her role - and it seems like Cillian Murphy has no problem showing her the ropes! As previously reported, Cillian was recently dating Zoe Parker, journalist. They have quietly spit earlier this month, and it seems Cillian is back in the dating pool. Scroll below for pictures from the wild night - by order of the Peaky Blinders -

Zoe's heart was in her throat.

"First of all, all the peaky blinders references are annoying," she said out loud, to anyone who will hear her. She looked at Scout, who was by the door again. "It's corny, right?" she asked him.

Scout just stared at her, then back at the door. She rolled her eyes and let him out again.

"Second of all, who the hell is Lizzie Hughes??" She opened up a new tab and searched her name. Millions of pictures came up, with her mile long legs and green eyes staring back at Zoe. She clicked on a picture that brought her to her call card, that had her contact information for bookings.

managed by Hannah Woods, Elite Talent and Public Relations.

That's... odd.. Zoe thought. Maybe it's a small world?

Zoe went back to the article and took a deep breath, she was about to click through the photos.

At first they weren't too bad. All of them out, drinks in hand, having a good time.

But in every picture, Lizzie was there, right next to Cillian. In some pictures, he was leaning in close to her, assuming to hear her. At least, that's what Zoe wanted to believe.

As she clicked through, it seems like they all got drunker and Lizzie got more touchy with Cillian. She had her hand on his bicep, hand on his chest, hand on his back. Cillian... wasn't stopping it.

The pictures got worse.

They were all leaving, and bringing up the rear was Cillian and Lizzie, arm in arm. She was leaning heavy into him, and he was holding onto her tight.

Zoe slammed the laptop shut, tears in her eyes, face bright red.

These pictures are exactly like the ones of her and Cillian. She was so embarrassed, so angry, so hurt. This wasn't like him, AT ALL. She thought she knew him and he was better than this, was this NOT the Cillian that she got to know, the Cillian she opened up to, the one who she sat on the beach with all those days ago.

Am I that forgettable? She thought, letting tears roll down her cheeks.

She was interrupted by Scout barking at a squirrel outside. She glanced at the clock on the stove - she was running late.

Shit, she mumbled, wiping her tears. She got up and went upstairs, planning on throwing on whatever she could to make it to the office at a decent time. She couldn't think about this, not now... But she was planning on texting him when she got to work. And she planned on thinking about what to say the entire time before getting to her office.

xx

Cillian was sound asleep, with about 15 minutes left before his alarm would go off.

Hannah, however, was wide awake.

She had the key to his hotel room, and she quietly let herself in. Cillian was asleep in the bedroom, however his cell phone, wallet and keys were on the coffee table in the living room. Hannah walked over and grabbed his phone, entering the password and opening it up.

She knew the Daily Mail article hit in the US already, and she was certain Zoe would have said something to him by now.

Since the cast had a wild night last night, production for the day was delayed and Cillian didn't have to be on set until later that evening. This allowed him to sleep well into the afternoon, since they all didn't get home until about 4am.

Hannah opened up his phone and smiled, texts from the 2 people she needed texts from; Lizzie and Zoe.

Lizzie: Thanks for being so kind, Cillian! you're sound, looking forward to a good season! x

Hannah rolled her eyes. she left that one unread; he could see that one.

She took a breath and opened the one from Zoe; she was ready to go back and forth with her a little.

Zoe: Hey. I thought you said you were working? looks like you had fun last night. You could have just said you were going out to eat; who's that girl?

Hannah couldn't help but smirk. She began typing:

Cill: hi. didn't know i need to tell u my every waking move. went out to dinner. nbd.

Zoe responded almost immediately.

Zoe: ... you don't need to? I was just asking. I was looking forward to talking to you.

Cill: i know but i cant drop everything to talk to u. im working. i cant pick my schedule like u do. im busy.

Zoe: ... okay? is everything okay?

Cill: this is stressing me out. this schedule isn't working. how bout ill call u whenever im free. don't call me. i cant keep having my phone go off. just lemme call u. i luv u but u gotta let me work. please. Zoe: you're acting weird. can you please pick up your phone? I want to talk. Cill: i can't right now. ill call u later. everything im fine. im sorry. <3 u Zoe: i love you too...

Hannah was interrupted by Cillian's alarm going off. She quickly deleted the text message thread and placed his phone on the coffee table. She opened her work bag and grabbed some papers, making it seem like she was working or going over a schedule.

Cillian emerged a few minutes later, in sweatpants and a sweatshirt. He turned and looked at Hannah.

"I wanna die." Cillian said, squinting at Hannah.

"Welp, partying like you guys did last night will do that to ya," Hannah said, smiling, "Coffee?"

"Tea, please." Cillian mumbled, stretching his arms over his head. "What time is it?"

"A little past 2pm" Hannah said, not looking up from her papers.

"Fuck. I have a workout in half an hour, i feel like shit, and then we start at what, 5 tonight?" Cillian groaned, hand going to the back of his neck and rubbing it. Hannah nodded, confirming the start time. He sighed and made his way to the bathroom.

"I'm hopping in the shower, can you please text Zoe for me and tell her i'll call her later?" He yelled over his shoulder, grabbing a fresh towel and closing the bathroom door.

"Hannah laughed, biting her lip to keep the noise down. "Consider it done, Cill!" She yelled back.

"Consider it done!"

tags:

@lau219 @cillianinlove @vervainandspritz @supershadowymiraclestudent @borntodiemp3 @cillianmurphyvevo @shopgirl6us

[1-800-local-slut]

Caught

Elle gets a caught starting and gets a talk from someone about her crush on BAU reader.

"Sometimes we let our feelings get ahead of our own skills as profilers. Don't forget you can read many people better than themselves."

"He's a she."

Warnings: none, Elle is a simp, Aaron means well, mentions of drinking

༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺

Her eyes were stuck. Drawn magnetically to the object of her desires: you. Elle had a big fat crush on you. She thought about you when she first woke each morning, and when she went to bed. She thought about running away with you, leaving the chaos of the FBI behind. She thought about taking your hand and running down the halls of the building before giving you a big kiss and the two of you hoping in her car and driving off into the sunset.

She smelt your perfume when you were nowhere nearby. When you hugged her, she resisted the urge to take a very deep inhale of your clothing to smell you. And when you roomed together (as you had designated yourself as her bunk buddy) and you two got changed out of your work clothes each night she had to force her eyes away, God forbid she was found out.

Seeing you in pajamas hurt her more, as she was helpless to imagine how it would feel to snuggle up beside you with each night and drift into a peaceful sleep. What would it be like, to come home together? She would cook dinner if you wanted (she'd do everything if you wanted) while you cleaned up around the house (she'll do that too, but she knows you'd never let her do everything alone) fixing up the tornado you two left that morning.

What would it be like, to sit down to eat dinner together? Forget sitting at the table, you'd just cuddle on the couch. Elle doesn't care for your personal space really; she honestly wants to be physically attached at the hip to you.

Hell, she'd leave everything she worked for behind just for a chance to be with you. Which is why, right now in this shitty club you all went too to celebrate closing your last case, she sat there. She sat there, fidgeting with her straw and twirling it around in her drink. Staring at you. Because in such a crowded place, no one would possibly know that she was ONLY staring at you. She had to take her chances when they came.

The lights illuminated your dancing form as you danced around with Derek. Your hair was put up tonight, with pieces framing your face. Beautiful. So, so, so beautiful. She could ignore the smell of 1000 different mixing perfumes; she could ignore the smell of sweaty bodies and the lights giving her a slight headache.

And the pounding music that made it hard to hear her own thoughts. She could ignore how much her wallet cried from the price of drinks (which is why they all decided to just pool their money and buy a bottle because who has 15 dollars for a coquito?) but Elle didn't want to just drink straight liquor. She needed something to balance it out, so she sensibly purchased a Dark and Stormy.

While you tore up the dance floor with Morgan, SSA Aaron Hotchner was a man of his age. So, it was time for him to take a nice seat next to Elle and interrupted her much needed time to take in all of your movements.

Now, it's important to know that when you're a profiler, you know when you're being profiled. From the moment he sat down next to her on the leather purple seats of the club and adjusted himself to feel comfortable in the suit he was still wearing, he was also following her eyes. Maybe he didn't even realize that he was now staring at the younger agent who twirled around on the dance floor and ignored the advances of men who approached her.

Elle realized it though. She didn't care if Aaron knew she was attracted to women. What wasn't to love about women? Women were great. But you were something special. She just didn't want to be caught...feeling. Feeling so much about someone she works so closely work in such perilous situations on a regular basis.

Her entire body screamed at her not to look away. Forcing her eyes down to the table, she tried convincing herself that the ring of condensation around her glass was the most fascinating thing in the world. It wasn't fast enough though.

Certainly not fast enough to get by Aaron who often didn't know what to do with his emotional intelligence. He always knew when something was wrong, he just never really knew what to say or do about it. Not to his female coworkers either. Elle gnawed on the inside of her cheek and thought about anything else hoping the chair would just swallow her up.

Why he was giving her some strange look of pity, she didn't really know. Hopefully he would fill her in soon, because this was getting awkward. As the song changed, you and Morgan excitedly began to jump around, seemingly feeling the grove of this one.

"You know, it's nothing to worry about."

"What?" She looked up, biting the inside of her cheek until it started to hurt a little. Aaron was clearly a few drinks in, because normally he would've offered a supportive pat and then ignored her in favor of pretending nothing was wrong.

"Morgan. I mean, that's just...how he is." Aaron hesitated and honestly it wasn't the dumbest thing to think. Objectively Derek was very handsome. Charming and funny and what not. The only reason why they worked so well, was because Elle was not interested in him. Or any type of man. But honestly, she was a little offended, why she wasn't sure. Actually, she knew why. Because anyone's first assumption should be that she's with you. The thought of anything else killed her just a bit.

Raising an eyebrow, and glancing back between Aaron and the dance floor, she almost laughed in his face. The lights changed across her face and made Aaron look either very pale or like some sort of underwater creature depending on the coloring.

"I think anyone who has sight can see that your here being miserable over it. Morgan is, well, he's friendly with a everyone. Male or female." It came out awkward, and a little choppy.

Oh. Oh no, he thought she was jealous. Jealous of you for dancing with Morgan. Most certainly not. But maybe it would be a little funny to just...see where he takes this. In true Elle fashion she just had to poke a little bit of fun at men.

Taking a deep breath, she couldn't stop the crooked grin that came across her lips and brushed a piece of hair out of her eyes.

"Morgan's not really my type. I do like someone though; it is getting me a little down." Elle shrugged, looking at him innocently just to see if what advice he could even give for this.

"Well, whoever it is, I think you should try. Instead of just sitting here I mean. Sometimes we let our feelings get ahead of our own skills as profilers. Don't forget you can read many people better than themselves. You can think that you've observed each part of someone, and that means they don't like you. Over profiling is a thing you know. Whoever he is, I'm sure you have a pretty decent chance and you're over thinking it." Aaron continued, letting the whiskey talk for him. She chuckled, letting him go on. What was the harm, when could you get more than fifteen words out of Hotch at a time? Plus, it was actually a bit helpful.

What if he was right? What if all those times she thought you were just being friendly, just being 'girl friends' were actually you just letting her know you felt the same or were feeling the same type of fear? What if she was too deep in her own mental prison to really let herself take a chance? Put herself out there and what not.

"Huh." Confidence filled her, as she took a sip from her drink and felt blood rushing through her. Maybe she couldn't ask you out right now. But it was better to do something other than sitting here staring at you like she was getting paid to do it.

"Maybe your right Hotch." He looked up, from fidgeting with his cuff links and tilted his head slightly? What, did he forget what he said already?

He watched her rise up from her seat and stretch. He glanced around the club, his curiosity urging him to look around for who she was intending to approach at this moment. Like clockwork, the two FBI Agents looked at the woman who was laughing with Morgan while they conversed with two random women who were clearly very interested in the two. Slowly the dots connected for Hotch.

"Oh, and Hotch? He's a she."

[hometoursandotherstuff]

Here's another custom home designed to be the owners dreamhouse. This 9bd, 4.5ba 2002 estate in Yantis, Texas is bank owned and for sale for just $549K. You would think that an estate for that price would've sold, but it's been on the market for over 210 days.

Hmmm. Huge dining room is actually a sun porch with a metal ceiling.

I thought that this was the living room, and maybe it is, until I saw the fridge standing there.

This is kitchen #1. Not terribly impressive.

The dinette area has a poker table. Did you notice that a bedroom was next to the family room and double doors open to a bedroom in here. Strange floorplan.

Okay, this is the living room. Very spacious. Looks there's a bedroom through those double doors, too.

And, this is kitchen #2. Looks like they painted over the dated oak cabinets with black.

There are 9 bedrooms. This is one of them, and I don't see a window.

Bedroom #2 has paned glass doors, but it doesn't look like they open to the outside.

This bedroom also has double doors. Maybe they go out to a courtyard or hall.

This bedroom has a small en-suite.

This large bedroom looks like a sun room.

I can't tell which bedroom is the primary.

2 room bath. The shower is in room of its own.

There are 2 tracts of land, and the buyer must purchase them both. This 6 boat bay is on tract #2- The area is noted for Bass fishing.

Courtyard in the middle of the house has a covered patio and a 2nd uncovered patio, but no pool.

There is a garage and a carport.

The front of the home has a porte cochere and some sort of feature for a plant, I guess.

The entire property measures 2.58 acres.

https://www.realtor.com/realestateandhomes-detail/214-County-Road-1900_Yantis_TX_75497_M99433-41038

[theambitiouswoman]

How To Get Started Investing In The Stock Market

Educate yourself: Before investing in the stock market, it's important to educate yourself about the basics of investing, including the different types of investments, the risks involved, and how to build a diversified portfolio. There are many resources available, including books, online courses, and investment blogs.

Determine your investment goals: It's important to have clear investment goals before investing in the stock market. Are you investing for retirement, a down payment on a house, or to generate passive income? Your investment goals will help determine the types of investments that are appropriate for you.

Open a brokerage account: To invest in the stock market, you'll need to open a brokerage account with a reputable brokerage firm. Some popular options include Fidelity, TD Ameritrade, and Charles Schwab. When choosing a brokerage firm, consider factors such as fees, investment options, and customer service.

Build a diversified portfolio: Diversification is key to successful investing. By investing in a mix of stocks, bonds, and other assets, you can reduce your risk and increase your chances of long-term success. Consider investing in a mix of large-cap and small-cap stocks, domestic and international investments, and bonds with varying maturities.

Start investing: Once you have a brokerage account and have determined your investment strategy, it's time to start investing. Consider starting with a small amount of money and gradually increasing your investments over time.

WAYS TO INVEST

There are several ways to invest in the stock market, including:

Individual Stocks: This involves buying shares of individual companies on the stock market. You can buy shares through a broker or an online trading platform.

Mutual Funds: Mutual funds pool money from multiple investors and invest in a diversified portfolio of stocks. This allows you to invest in a variety of companies with a single investment.

Exchange-Traded Funds (ETFs): ETFs are similar to mutual funds, but they trade like individual stocks on an exchange. This allows you to buy and sell ETFs throughout the trading day.

Index Funds: Index funds track the performance of a specific index, such as the S&P 500. This provides exposure to a broad range of companies and can be a good option for long-term investors.

TOOLS TO START INVESTING

Online Trading Platforms: Many brokers offer online trading platforms that allow you to buy and sell stocks and funds. These platforms typically provide research tools and stock charts to help you make informed investment decisions.

Robo-Advisors: Robo-advisors are digital platforms that use algorithms to create and manage investment portfolios for you. They can be a good option for beginner investors who want a hands-off approach.

Investment Apps: There are several investment apps available that allow you to buy and sell stocks and funds from your mobile device. These apps are often designed for beginner investors and offer low fees and user-friendly interfaces.

PLATFORMS

A few popular options:

Robinhood: Robinhood is a commission-free trading app that offers stocks, ETFs, and cryptocurrency trading. It’s designed for beginner investors and offers a user-friendly interface.

Acorns: Acorns is an investment app that automatically invests your spare change. It rounds up your purchases to the nearest dollar and invests the difference in a diversified portfolio of ETFs.

TD Ameritrade: TD Ameritrade is a popular trading platform that offers stocks, ETFs, mutual funds, options, futures, and forex trading. It offers a variety of trading tools and research resources.

ETRADE: ETRADE is a popular online broker that offers stocks, ETFs, mutual funds, options, and futures trading. It offers a variety of trading tools and resources, including a mobile app.

Fidelity: Fidelity is a full-service broker that offers stocks, ETFs, mutual funds, options, and futures trading. It offers a variety of investment tools and research resources, including a mobile app.

INVESTMENT STRATEGIES

Value Investing: Value investing involves buying stocks that are undervalued by the market and holding them for the long term. This approach requires patience and a thorough analysis of a company’s financial statements and growth potential.

Growth Investing: Growth investing involves buying stocks in companies that are expected to grow faster than the market average. This approach often involves investing in companies that are at the cutting edge of technology or have innovative business models.

Dividend Investing: Dividend investing involves buying stocks in companies that pay a dividend. This can provide a steady stream of income for investors and can be a good option for those looking for more conservative investments.

Passive Investing: Passive investing involves investing in a diversified portfolio of low-cost index funds or ETFs. This approach is designed to match the performance of the overall market and requires minimal effort on the part of the investor.

Real Estate Investing: Real estate investing involves buying and holding real estate assets for the purpose of generating income or appreciation. This can include investing in rental properties, real estate investment trusts (REITs), or crowdfunding platforms.

Options trading: is a type of trading strategy that involves buying and selling options contracts, which are financial instruments that give the holder the right, but not the obligation, to buy or sell an underlying asset, such as stocks, at a specific price within a certain time frame. Options trading can be used to generate income, hedge against risk, or speculate on market movements.

Swing trading is a type of trading strategy that aims to capture short- to medium-term gains in a financial asset, such as stocks, currencies, or commodities. Swing traders typically hold their positions for a few days to several weeks, taking advantage of price swings or "swings" in the market. Swing traders use technical analysis to identify trends and patterns in the market, and they often employ a combination of charting tools and indicators to help them make trading decisions. They look for stocks or other assets that have a clear trend, either up or down, and then try to enter and exit positions at opportune times to capture profits.

TECHNICAL ANALYSIS TOOLS

There are many technical analysis resources available for traders to use in their analysis of financial markets. Here are some popular options:

TradingView: TradingView is a web-based charting and technical analysis platform that provides users with real-time data, customizable charts, and a variety of technical indicators and drawing tools.

StockCharts: StockCharts is another web-based platform that provides a wide range of technical analysis tools, including charting capabilities, technical indicators, and scanning tools to help traders identify potential trading opportunities.

Thinkorswim: Thinkorswim is a trading platform provided by TD Ameritrade that offers advanced charting and technical analysis tools, as well as a wide range of other features for traders, including paper trading, news and research, and risk management tools.

MetaTrader 4/5: MetaTrader is a popular trading platform used by many traders around the world. It provides a range of technical analysis tools, including customizable charts, indicators, and automated trading strategies.

Investing.com: Investing.com is a website that provides real-time quotes, charts, news, and analysis for a wide range of financial markets, including stocks, currencies, commodities, and cryptocurrencies.

Yahoo Finance: Yahoo Finance is a website that provides real-time stock quotes, news, and analysis, as well as customizable charts and a variety of other tools for traders and investors.

Finviz: is a popular web-based platform for traders and investors that provides a wide range of tools and information to help them analyze financial markets. The platform offers real-time quotes, customizable charts, news and analysis, and a variety of other features.

[mortalityplays]

LAUNCH GIVEAWAY: MORE FREE SHIT, MORE WINNERS!!!

I said I would add more prizes if enough people entered, and here we are! To give everyone a fair shot at winning something, I've upped the number of Prize A winners to 5 and added a whole new prize bundle. Up for grabs are:

5x Prize A bundles (1x large print and 2x small prints of your choice)

5x Prize B bundles (1x minicomic and the pictured 7-postcard set)

10x Prize C bundles (4 random postcards from the lucky dip! You might even get one extra design not pictured here...)

That means there are now 20 prizes in the pool!

Details:

20 winners will be chosen randomly from my Patreon followers - 5 Prize A winners, 5x Prize B winners, and 10 Prize C winners!

You do not have to purchase, like or reblog anything to enter. Obviously sharing is appreciated, but the only entry requirement is that you follow me on Patreon (the free tier counts!)

Winners will be chosen and announced on April 1st!

All you have to do to enter is follow me on patreon (at any level, including free).

You can read more about why I'm doing this here - but the short version is I think there should be more no-strings-attached free art in the world! Hooray!!!

Obligatory disclaimer: This giveaway is not sponsored, endorsed by or affiliated with tumblr. You don't have to buy anything and you're not obligated to keep following me after the prize draw!

[normal-internet-user]

So I’m absolutely loving Raph even more after the new tmnt, he’s just sooo…squishy?

Any way could I have an Raph x reader where she takes care of him, his brothers and father?

Like even though there mutants there still turtles (and a rat…kinda) so reader basically cleans the lair and puts up heat lamp spots with a chill rock, seals any cracks and windows to keep the drafts out, gets them to eat turtle appropriate food, even fixes there rooms and gives them beds they can uses, and a “shallow “ pool for them to chill out in with filtered water.

And when reader coos at Raph and goes to clean themselves after doing everything, they all look at him and tell him he better marry her one day.

OMG YES! Raph is best boy. change my mind. oh thats right, you can't. Because he is. I also noticed you used female pronouns so I made it a Fem reader!

SHE'S A KEEPER

♡~~♡~~♡~~♡~~♡

Summary: Reader shows up to the Lair with a boatload of supplies, set on making it more homey for her boyfriend's family of 5.

Warnings: Nope!

Requested: Yes!

Female Reader!

.........................................

With a huff, you dropped the last of your supplies at the entrance to the Lair.

The boy's were out on patrol, leaving behind only their father, and after asking him if it was ok, you had decided this place needed to undergo some renovations, but, first, you had some food that needed to be sorted away in the kitchen.

You had decided the family needed some healthier food options, because pizza bites and kool-aid, is not a balanced diet.

After sorting away the turlte and rat friendly foods, you walked back into the main room.

You eyed the cracks in the walls with a scowl, rolling up the sleeves of your sweater. You pulled the spackle from one of the many boxes you had brought.

You set the item down by the nearest wall, before making your way to the kitchen closet where a small ladder was kept.

Once the ladder had been aquired, and after you had put on your music, you spent the next 45 minutes sealing any and all reachable cracks.

You smiled proudly at the finished project. The spots needed to be painted, obviously, but that was a job you know Mikey would be more than happy to do.

Turning back to your supplies, you pulled out your to-do list. Next up was making a designated area for all the heat lamps you had bought.

You scanned the immediate area, finding a corner that was packed full of clutter. You sighed, and then began to remove the boxes and crates, replacing them with a huge pile of bean bag chairs, blankets and plush pillows.

An inflateable rubber pool right next to the pile. The pool was just enough for the boy's to submerge themselves, and after much testing, you had even determined it completely Raph-Proof.

You surrounded the soft mound, and empty pool with all the large stand-up heat lamps you had bought. The store cleark had certainly looked at you olddly at the amount, but who could blame 'em?

What normal person purchases 10 industrial size stand-up heat lamps?

You stood back to admire your comfortable master peice, using all of your will power not to fall face first into the tempting fluff pile.

Turning away from the pillows, you determined the pool properly inflated, you grabbed a bucket, and so began your back and forth mission from the kitchen to the pool.

This process took about 25 minutes, plus the 45 used to set up everything else. You knew the boys would be back soon, so you decided to clean up, deeming the completed projects enought for the day.

You returned the ladder to it's proper place, picked up and put away the spackle, and moved all the crates and boxes to an out of the way area.

You had started on your way to the kitchen to wash your hands when the boy's returned. You smiled at your boyfriend and his brothers, "Welcome back! I have a surprise for you guys."

Raph opened his mouthe to speak but Mikey beat him to it, "What is it? I love surprises."

"See? This is why (Name) is my favorite."

You laugh and motion for them to follow you. You lead them over to the mound of pillow, and bean bags, sitting next to the pool.

"Ta-da!" you wiggled around your hands to make jazz hands.

"Oohoooo yeah!"

Leo flung himself onto the heated pile, churring lowly. Mikey following quickly, "You're the best (Name)!" he said as he snuggled into a pillow.

Donnie removed his battle shell so he could join his brothers. Leo grabbed Donnie by the arm, and dragged him into the pile, "Leo!"

"Oh, relaaaxx, Donnie! Enjoy the heat!"

"Screw you, 'Nardo, I'm laying in the pool."

Leo shruggs, and relaxes into the beanbags once again. You smiled and moved to walk away, but Raph picked you up, then fell backwards onto the pile on his shell.

Raph moves you off of his plastron, then rolls over so his shell was aimed at the heat lamps, with his arm thrown around you to keep you from leaving.

"Hey!" you protest, trying to get up.

Raph shook his head, "Nope, you're gonna lay here with me, Sweetcheeks. Where it's nice and warm."

You huffed, and crossed your arms, doing your best to hide your smile. You sigh before looking over at Raph, "Ok, this is actually really nice."

"See? I knew you'd like it. Thank's by the way, this is awsome."

You pat his arm, "You're welcome, Raph. Oh, and I also filled the cracks in the walls, the ones I could reach anyway."

"You really are amazing."

You blushed, but before you could respond, Donnie spoke, "Indeed she is, Raphael, and-"

Leo cut him off, "And if you don't put a ring on her finger, then I will be very upset."

"Yeah! I want (Name) to be my older sister!" Mikey chimed in.

You and Raph looked at each other, Raph opened his mouth to speak, but Splinter walked in, and interruped, "I agree, Red you must marry her."

"Guys!"

You giggled, and looked at your boyfriend as he scolded his family. A smile on your face, because you completely agreed with the others.

But, Raph would have to find that out in the future.

.........................................

All done! I have a few more drafts that I'd like to get done, but I have all weekend for those, so.

@that-teen2003 💕