#so damn emotional and meaningful

[tender-rosiey]

how would modern day sukuna be like a father? :o

nerves — ryomen sukuna x f!reader

a/n: no curses au, lovelies! thank you for being so patient MWUAH and of course, merry christmas to everyone who celebrates it!

when one thinks of sukuna, one thinks of a broad muscular man covered in tattoos with a sharp jawline and an even sharper tongue punching the hell out of anyone.

you never think of the same man carrying a pink glittery bag and his own little pretty princess.

“do you have your lunch box?”

“yup!”

he quirks an eyebrow, “you sure?”

your daughter nods excitedly before looking over her dad’s shoulder. she grins when she finally sees you and excitedly calls you over, “mama! ‘morning!”

a smile instantly appears you on your face as you make your way towards your little sweetheart, “good morning, baby!”

you take her into your arms—ignoring your husband—and you kiss her cheek, “you excited for your first day of school?”

“mhm!” she gasped suddenly, “mama, look at my hair! papa made it for me!” she giggles, proudly showing off her ponytail.

you look with a knowing look and a small smile at your husband.

sukuna frowns and looks away, “it was easy anyway,” he then glares at you, “don’t make a big deal out of it.”

you giggle and pad your way towards him, resting your arm on his shoulder and gently kissing his lips, “it’s a really cute deal, though.”

you lightly bounce your daughter in your other arm, “right, d/n?”

“yeah! papa is the best!” she cheers, hugging him tightly.

your husband groans, but—nonetheless—his arms are wrapped around you two, “you two are such drama queens.”

he leans slightly, mouth near your ear as he whispers, “you better give me a proper fucking kiss when we drop the brat off.”

you gasp lightly and smack his shoulder, “watch your language!” you watch him scrunch his face—most likely about to sass you—so you press a quick kiss to your daughter’s cheek then your husband’s.

you then push them through the door with a nervous smile, “okay, bye! have a great time and don’t forget that mama loves you!”

“I love you too, mama!”

of course, you would’ve loved to accompany your daughter to school, especially on her first day, but the darn office just happened to call for you right now.

sukuna knows that, and so does your cute daughter, so there is a reason why they were both so reluctant to leave.

anyway, back to the present.

your husband’s frown is still evident as he is robbed yet again from a ‘proper’ kiss. he picks your daughter up easily and then throws her in the car.

she, as always, finds it funny and starts laughing her little butt off. sukuna rolls his eyes, and gets into the car himself.

he puts on the playlist that your daughter made herself, and finally starts the car. the ride is quiet, if you don’t count the singing and screaming of your daughter.

of course, sukuna can’t do anything about it—even if he knows that he doesn’t want her to stop in the first place.

the school isn’t that far away anyway, so they reach it in no time. your husband skilfully parks in front of the gate and takes his seatbelt off.

he doesn’t hear hurried unbuckling of a belt or nonstop squealing and fidgeting, so he looks at his daughter, “what’s up?”

she fidgets with the hem of her shirt then speaks up, softly, “I am—scared.”

he furrows his eyebrow, turning his entire body towards her, “huh? why? you were so excited with your mom earlier and you were screaming my ear off about it yesterday.”

“I know,” she murmurs then frowns, “…but what if people don’t like me?”

sukuna is stunned for a moment. he isn’t the one to normally deal with your daughter whenever she needed deep or meaningful emotional advice.

that was what you did, especially since you are able to read your daughter pretty well.

but he tries his best cause he would be damned if he isn’t the best father. his hand is placed on her head, albeit a bit roughly.

she whines, “papa, my hair!”

he takes a moment, “I…” he starts then quietens down for a second, and even then, you’re daughter is looking intently at him.

he then looks at her again, “they will love you. you’re a good kid."

your daughter’s eyes widen at her dad’s unfiltered compliment. she beams, quickly unbuckling her belt and throwing herself into his arms.

her smile is so wide it almost hurts her, but her heart feels so full because of her dad’s praise that she couldn’t care about anything other than him.

he slowly starts patting her head, “and if someone bothers you, I will just beat them up.”

“mama said no violence!” your daughter scolds and almost on cue, your face appears on the screen: you’re calling!

looks like you managed to squeeze in some time to check up on her. your daughter swiftly presses on answer and chirps, “hi mama!”

“hi baby! why are you not in school yet?” you question, eyes darting towards your husband, questioning.

“papa wanted to get some food first, so we just arrived!”

sukuna is—internally—flabbergasted. this liar. he is about to interject, but then he ponders about it for a moment: maybe she doesn’t want you to see her hesitant about the whole school thing.

maybe she wants to appear strong—with no weak points—in front of her mother. then he breathes out a chuckle, at least she takes after him in something.

“sukuna! she could’ve been late!” you huff then sigh, “good thing that you guys moved early anyway.”

your eyes then focus on your daughter, “how��re you feeling?”

“excited!”

“any nerves or anything?” you ask knowingly, but she shakes her head.

she hugs sukuna tighter, “I was a little nervous, but papa made me feel better!”

you grin, “did he now?”

he notices the teasing glint behind your eyes and looks away to avoid your gaze. your daughter giggles at her dad’s behaviour, and so do you.

and your husband has never felt more teamed up on than now. she hears the bell rings, “oh! I gotta go now!”

“bye papa!” she kisses her dad’s cheek, “bye mama!” then kisses the phone’s screen. you blow her a kiss back, and she dashes out of the car, ready to start her day.

even while walking towards the building, she turns again to her dad and waves at him happily.

sukuna nods and she grins, switching her focus back on the school. his focus is on her intently, until you speak up, “I am proud of you.”

his gaze snaps to you, expecting a teasing smirk, but instead you’re smiling warmly at him. his heart contracts in a way that makes him feel weird, and he can’t find it in him to give you a snarky reply.

he groans, “she is my daughter as much as she is yours, y’know.”

you hum, “of course, she is,” he hears rustling on the other line, so he assumes you’re checking some papers before turning to him again, “she takes after you in more ways than one.”

“yeah, I noticed,” he says quietly, and you laugh.

he notices from the corner of his eyes his daughter laughing excitedly with a bunch of others girls, and he lets out a breath that he didn’t know he was holding.

you tap on your desk a little, “you nervous?”

“if someone hurts her, I will kill them.”

“I figured."

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copyright © tender-rosiey

do not copy or plagiarize or you will be reported

[baldursgate3tempobsessed]

Astarion Jealousy Part 2

The graphic extension to this but a lil less serious and definitely not sfw.

CW: Jealous spawn astarion who is still a sweetheart, but the drow twins get under his skin. graphic sex scenes, oral, relatively tame honestly. The sex part will be under the cut btw which is m/f. Also vampire man drinks blood. mentionable incorrect language for sex workers

~

It was odd, being home in Baldur’s Gate without the threat of Cazador always looming. Odd, but equally as wonderful. It had been so thoughtful, if not a little idiotic for Cazador to end up being your first stop in the city. The fight itself had been a blur, a barrage of intense emotions and bloody violence. Astarion had come so close to losing himself back there, losing everything that made him better than the man who almost ruined him. But then… you stopped him. You saw something more in him, a chance for a better life. A more meaningful life, away from the shackles of vampiric power obsessions. 

He was officially free. Now he could exist without any fear of his disgusting master’s retribution. He could just… be. Well… not including his darling’s own myriad of enemies that seemed to follow them about everywhere. And there was still the matter of defeating the elder brain, and lord knows if any of you made it through that alive. But at least his personal demons were slain and out of the picture.

Every little step counted after all. Perhaps some of your delusional hopefulness had finally started to rub off on him, but Astarion was actually starting to look forward to his future. Your future, together. All he had to do was get through a few more perilous adventures and then he’d really have you all to himself. 

All that said, Astarion could really go without the frequent visits to the local brothel. Was it the best place in the city for gathering information? Yes. It seemed that every walk of life in Baldur’s Gate found their way into Shar’s Caress and if you were going to find alternative passage to the underworld, this would be the best place to find it. But that didn’t mean he had to like it. For one there were the unwelcome advances to his own person, the concept of grace and personal space apparently left at the door. He was so very close to breaking the hand of the next person who thought it was appropriate to grab his ass. And if they could afford to get kicked out he would have by now. Your verbal, angry tirades in his defense could only scare off so many. 

But as terrible as his own discomfort was, it was nothing in the face of how often you were being fawned over. What was it about you that seemed to drive everyone mad? Yes you were objectively attractive, but this was frankly getting out of hand. First there was the green skinned druid doing something sensual to your mind, then there were the general stares and whispers as you walked by, and now a pair of gorgeous drow twins trying and failing to proposition you. 

It was getting tiresome. There were only so many times a man could take his lover being offered “free” services before he snapped. 

On one hand, he could respect the dedication they had to the craft. He could be considered something of a hired whore himself in his time, the old, “the first one’s free” was a tried and true trick. And he also knew, vaguely, that no one was actually trying to steal you from him. But on the other, he couldn’t help the fact that he wanted to claw their eyes out for looking at you so brazenly.

He hadn’t expected the eyes of the woman to wander over to him, like she was just noticing the possessive arm he had wrapped around your waist, “Is that your partner with you? How would you both feel about having a little fun?”

Absolutely fucking not. Maybe the old Astarion would have smiled and nodded, ready to do whatever was asked of him. But the man from that wretched era had died, or at the very least was dying. And he would be damned if he let you lay with another, never less participate in it. 

Astarion interrupted your overly-polite attempts stuttering of a refusal. He glared at them both, a sneer painted on his face, “We’ll be passing on that. You’d think the first no would have sufficed, but I suppose it’s not fair to expect everyone to have basic language comprehension. Now as illuminating as this conversation has been, we have places to be. Excuse us.”

Then he was pulling you away, happy to ignore the offended huffs of indignation he had left in his wake. 

“We’re supposed to be investigating, remember?” You said with a giggle, not even questioning him as he dragged you to the second floor, “Being rude is not the way we’ll find travel to the hells.”

“I highly doubt they would have been of use,” Astarion said as he pushed you into the first empty room he could find. He felt off, maybe even a little crazed as he turned to you, “Tell me darling, what is it about you that makes you so irresistible, hm?”

He crowded you against the closed door, ducking his head into the crook of your neck to breath you in. You smelled heavenly, you always did. He could trace the barest whiff of your blood from beneath your skin, always calling to him. You were the sweetest thing he ever tasted. Delicious even, for more reasons than one. 

“T-They just wanted my coin,” You gasped when he started to suck bruises into your skin, “That’s all.”

“I think they wanted a bit more than that,” Astarion bit out as he shoved his thigh between your legs, “What will it take for others to realize you’re mine.”

His hands were wandering, resting low to grip your hips. He was using them to move you, forcing you to grind against his thigh. You grasped at his shoulders, trying to bite back a moan as you stared at him with wide eyes, “You want to do it here? Does that door even lock?”

It looked like it didn’t, not that Astarion cared. Maybe walking in on him ravishing you would finally start getting the point across of who you belonged to. Astarion shrugged, "There are less appropriate venues than literal whore houses."

“But-”

“But I can tell you want it,” Astarion interrupted with a smirk, his hands barely working to move your body anymore. But that wasn’t stopping you from rubbing yourself all over him, “Just look at you darling. Desperate little thing. But if you really don’t want to…”

Astarion made a lazy attempt to step back, laughing out loud when your desperately pulled him back, your desire finally winning out over your common sense. But you were glaring at him, obviously annoyed that he was so good at riling you up. He had seen that look before, the one that just screamed that you were scheming something. 

He just hadn’t expected you to drop to your knees in front of him, huffing as you started to undo the fastenings to his pants, “Has anyone ever told you that you’re a bit of a shit?”

“Maybe,” Astarion said with a strained laugh, his breath catching when you pulled his half-hard cock out, “But it seems to keep getting me the things I want.”

You rolled your eyes before licking a wide strip up his cock, like you weren’t directly proving his point. You looked amazing own there, you’re half-hearted glare morphing into a blissful haze. 

Gods, how were you real? Astarion wasn’t quite sure why you were such a fan of getting him down your throat, but he knew that he was a lucky bastard for it. 

“Sweet girl,” Astarion sighed, letting a hand drift down to tangle in your hair, “Sweet girl with a perfect mouth. And you’re all mine, aren’t you?”

You made a small, affirmative noise around his cock, taking him in deeper as you clutched at his thighs. You were so good at this, so well-trained after months of being together. He loved the soft, wet sounds that would escape your lips as you swallowed him down, the pretty way your eyes would water as you encouraged him to fuck your throat, how you would squirm in place on your knees, no doubt ruining your panties with how wet you were getting. 

And no one else would ever know. No one would get to see you like this again, feel you like this. Needy, desperate, and his. Oddly enough, that thought was what sent him over the edge. He came down your throat, groaning as you eagerly swallowed around him. 

You pulled off of him slowly, panting while you smiled up at him. There was the smallest string of spit mixed with his come, connecting from the head of his cock to your lips. You licked it up, still clinging to his thighs as you hazily stared up at him. Sweet enough to make his heart skip a beat, and his dick give a valiant twitch.

He pulled you to your feet, not wasting any time in smashing your lips together. He spun you around, pushing you towards what he prayed was a clean bed. 

He pushed you back onto the sheets, making quick work of tearing your pants down your legs as he grinned down at you, “Your turn.”

He kneeled in front of you; spreading his hands over your splayed thighs to peel off your underwear. The core of you was already glistening, slick enough to make Astarion’s mouth water. He licked his lips as he spread your legs further apart, shameless as he feasted on you with his eyes. 

You were shaking in his hold, biting your bottom lip when you whined, “Stop staring already…”

“But you’re so pretty here my sweet,” Astarion cooed, tracing a single finger over the seam of your cunt, “And you’re dripping. Poor thing, have I kept you waiting too long?”

You nodded excitedly above him, your hips bucking when he let his fingers dip in further between your pussy lips. He lightly traced your clit, softly laughing at the way the simple touch made you whine.

It was his own fault that you were so needy, a fact that brought a smirk to his lips. You always got so wet after you had him down your throat, soaked and gorgeous. 

Astarion dove right in, loudly moaning as he licked into your folds. He dragged his lips upward to suckle on your clit, basking in all the cries and whimpers escaping you.

He licked back down, teasing your hole with his tongue as your legs quivered around his head. He let the sharpness of his fangs scrape against you as he started to fuck you with his tongue, threatening your most intimate places.

He knew you liked that; little minx that you were. The slight risk of pain that was always looming. It made him want to sink his fangs in you for real, a hunger that he'd sate after he had you gushing into his mouth.

You were already close, he could tell from the way your cunt was tightening around his tongue; too worked up from the thrill of being in public and the taste of him still lingering on your tongue. Astarion trailed talented fingers up to rub against your clit, his tongue still curling inside of you as you cried out. Finally falling over the edge. But that wasn't stopping him from continuing to play with you.

You had to tug on Astarion’s hair for him to finally pull away, too over sensitive to handle his talented tongue. You were still trembling by the time he leaned back, licking his lips. He rested his head on your thigh, obviously pleased with himself as he grinned up at you. He could feel your heart racing against his cheek, the sound of your blood pumping singing through your veins. It had his mouth watering for a completely different reason. 

He let his fangs drag against the delicate skin of your inner thigh, looking up at you through his lashes, "Can I?"

A superfluous question. Not when he already knew the answer before it escaped your lips.

“Y-yeah," You mumbled, lovingly gazing down at him. He would never tire of seeing that look on your face, "But be gentle? Please?” 

"Of course my love," Astarion murmured, before promptly sinking his fangs into your flesh. He had to hold you down from the way you were still trembling, your quivering only getting worse at the pleasure mixed with pain. He didn’t let himself go rabid, just enough to get a taste. He was pulling back too soon, smiling to himself at the little whine you let out. He gently licked over the wound before standing, not yet swallowing the last drops on his tongue.

Instead he leaned forward to kiss you, more than happy to share the sweet taste of your blood as he slipped his tongue into your mouth.

“Thank you my dear,” Astarion sighed as he pulled away, “That was exactly what I needed. Now I think that’s enough investigating for one day.” 

You sighed, taking the time to card your fingers through his hair, “Agreed. Though you might have to carry me out of here now.”

Wasn’t that a wonderful idea?

Astarion hummed as he pulled your clothing back on, “I think I like the sound of that," He didn't give you time to respond, too busy sweeping you up in his arms with a grin, "I'll be taking you up on that."

You squeaked when he hefted you up, bridal style, “I wasn’t being serious!”

But it was too late, Astarion was already kicking the door open. He shrugged at you, completely shameless as he winked at a few onlookers, "Then you shouldn't have suggested it."

You groaned, hiding your face in his shirt as he happily took you outside, “I’m going to get you back for this. I hope you know that.”

Astarion laughed as he kissed the top of your head, “I’m sure you will.”

It was a childish stunt, borderline on par with a jealous tantrum, but gods, did it feel good. Good enough to sate Astarion's obsessive tendencies for an impressive amount of time. Under normal circumstances. 

But what about your lives were normal?

[thelostconsultant]

Instant dad - pilot

pairing: Oscar Piastri x ex!reader

summary: You have no choice but to tell Oscar he has a five years old son. Now he wants to be a part of his life to make things complicated...

note: A little warmup chapter. Oscar is in his early 30s, so yeah, there's a time jump.

[part 1]

“We would like to meet Oliver’s father. His biological father,” the principal clarified as he glanced over at your boyfriend. You’d been together for three years, he had been by your five-year-old’s side for over half his life, why wasn’t he enough?

But he insisted on meeting him, saying if he was dead and you could prove it, or if your boyfriend was your husband, they would move on with the enrollment, but you had confirmed that you weren’t married and the biological father was alive, so now they wanted to have a chat with him. He didn’t even care about the tiny little detail that said father had absolutely no idea he had a child. What a bunch of morons.

In the evening, while your son was reading a book about cars in his bed with your boyfriend, you sat by the dining table with your phone in hand, trying to figure out what to do. This fancy private school was perfect, they knew how to handle intelligent kids like Oliver, and you wanted the best for him. You wanted to make sure he didn’t get bored, that he would get the kind of intellectual challenge in school that he needed.

At the age of five, he could read on his own just fine, he even learned some Spanish from your boyfriend, and he was a quick study in general. It was infuriating how he was a mini version of his father, from his intelligence to his looks, everything reminded you of him. And if you met F1 fans together, someone surely went, “He looks so much like Piastri at his age!” Sadly, that wasn’t a coincidence, and the poor kid picked up on the whole you-look-like-him thing and chose him as his favorite driver.

Sometimes you consider telling him. Oliver, not Oscar. God, there was no way you would ever tell him the truth. He had his own, certainly busy life and he probably didn’t need a child in it. Yes, you saw the photos, he was good with kids, but meeting one for a few minutes wasn’t the same as having your own. Your son on the other hand could find out when he got old enough to understand why you had left and went no contact with his father. That was over ten years away, of course, so you had time to figure out what to do. Until then, you made sure the few photos of you and Oscar were stored somewhere safe in case he wanted to see them when the time came.

Now you were cornered, your hand forced by that damn principal. You had no idea if he was still using that old social media profile of his, but you had to try. So, you took a deep breath and started a call, deep down hoping he wouldn’t answer. You weren’t ready to talk to him, not yet, but you had no choice. And then his face showed up on your screen, the sight bringing back memories you’d been trying to forget for years.

“Hey. Are you sure it’s me you wanted to call?” he asked, although there was a hint of a smile on his lips.

Nodding, you let out a sigh. “Hi. Yeah, um… I don’t even know where to start.”

“At the beginning?”

Silence followed his words, your brain in overdrive as it tried to find the best way to start. But maybe being straightforward was the right answer. “I have a son. He’s five,” you added, hoping the meaningful look you were sending his way could be seen over the screen.

After a few seconds of heavy silence, you could see the wheels turning in his head as he did some math. “Wait, five? We… That was a bit over five years ago. Could he…?”

“Yeah,” you confirmed. “He’s your son.”

His face was emotionless for a while as he tried to process the news, but this was nothing new, he was the king of hiding emotions. But then, just as you thought he would end the call, he let out a sigh. “Why now? What do you want from me? Money?” he asked, although you could tell he was unsure about this whole situation.

The fact he assumed you wanted money only made you angry. “It’s not your money I need. Hell, I don’t even want you to meet him,” you snapped. “The thing is, there’s this private school I want to send him to, and they have this stupid rule to have both parents present at a parental interview. Since my boyfriend and I never got married, they want to see the biological father. That’s all I want. A meeting with the principal.”

Oscar put up a finger as he bit on his lower lip, his eyes focusing on something behind his phone’s camera. “Let me get this straight. After all these years, you say I have a son, but I’m not allowed to meet him?” he then asked, looking back at you.

“Yeah.”

“One meeting,” he then stated, his voice serious. “You let me meet him once and I’ll talk to that principal.”

“Oscar, come on.”

“That’s the deal I can offer.”

You didn’t have a choice, you knew that. If he didn’t do it for Oliver, he would have to go to another school. Letting out a sigh of defeat, you nodded. “But we don’t tell him that you’re his father. He watches F1, and since he looks a lot like you, he decided that you’re his favorite driver. That’s all you’re gonna be, nothing more.”

“No.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know, I,” Oscar began hesitantly, and you could see as he sat down on his couch and looked up at the ceiling. “You just told me I had a son. What do you want from me, to forget it? I want to meet him. I want him to know who I am.”

“He’s five. If he finds out, he’ll want to see you again. He will want you to be a part of his life. I don’t want that.”

You could see he was uncertain about this. He probably understood that becoming his father would mean he would have to regularly visit the two of you, and even if you all kept it a secret, there was still the risk of the truth slipping out and making it into the headlines. “Is he anything like me?” he suddenly asked, his eyes softening as he watched you. 

A smile crept on your lips as you thought about this, because it was so painfully obvious to you that you couldn’t deny it, no matter how badly you wanted to do that. “He’s a highly intelligent little smartass, just like you. And his looks… A mini you, no doubt.”

Oscar nodded. “Then I want to be a part of his life. Let me spend time with him,” he asked, seeming relaxed. 

“Two hours.”

“No, I’ll stay for a week, and I want to see him every day,” he was quick to clarify. “I can look out for him while you’re at work.”

Whatever happened to the idea of meeting Oliver once? That’s not what you had just discussed, and now he was changing his demands? “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” was all you said in the end.

“You said it yourself, I’m his favorite driver,” he pointed out with a smug smile. “We’ll be fine.”

You were doing this only because of the school. You remembered what Oscar could be like; if he made up his mind about something, he definitely wasn’t about to let his plan go. Now he wanted a week with his son, and you knew that was the only way he would do what you needed from him. “All right. Can I send you the school’s number so you can make an appointment? I told them you travel a lot, so they’ll need to be flexible.”

“Sure, I’ll call them as soon as I can.” You thanked him, and were just about to say goodbye when he spoke up again. “Wait, can you send me a photo or a video?”

“Yeah, I have a few hundred of those,” you replied with a smile.

Oscar remained silent, but he let out a sigh and you knew something was on his mind, something he wanted to tell you. “I still have a hard time believing it, you know.”

“You seemed pretty confident when it came to getting to know him.”

“I wanted to use my chance to corner you,” he admitted. “But this? That I have a son? Hard to believe.”

“Well, he’s yours. You’ll understand it when you meet him,” you told him kindly. 

After you said goodbye, you went up to check on Oliver and your boyfriend, but by the time you got there, they were sleeping soundly with the open book resting on your son’s chest. With a smile, you took the book and leaned down to give both of them a soft kiss. You couldn’t help but wonder how your little family’s dynamics would change with Oscar’s presence. 

Well, it wasn’t really your son you were worried about, the main issue was your boyfriend. Oscar was a famous F1 driver, someone your son idolized, of course he felt threatened. You told him it would be okay, that you didn’t have feelings for him anymore, but he didn’t seem convinced. Maybe if they met and he saw you were indifferent, he would finally trust you a lot more. One can hope, right?

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

On the subject of Bruce Wayne getting married: why not both? They have a marriage of convenience at Vegas first, but once they're deep in their feels, they have another more intimate and meaningful ceremony officiated by Alfred

UGH anon i could not agree more

Warnings: Marriage of convenience; fluff

Summary: It was supposed to be easy—a year-long marriage of convenience to keep Bruce's name clean; cash for your time spent, for your name and likeness splashed all over the papers, run through the mud by the tabloids.

You'd been in a tough spot; you were willing to risk it.

But you couldn't have banked on falling in love with Bruce, or on Bruce falling in love with you.

"We should get married."

It's mumbled against your temple mid-nuzzle, and chased by the warm pressure of Bruce drawing you impossibly closer. Your brow furrows even as your lips pull into a smile, your head tipping back to get a better look at Bruce in the dim bedroom light.

"We are married," You remind him.

"Properly," He insists.

You have to consider it for a moment.

Your first wedding hadn't exactly been a grand affair.

You still remember the roiling nerves as you'd pulled up to the drive-through chapel in Vegas. You'd known that the press would catch up with you in the next twelve hours; that every woman that had ever shown an outward interest in Bruce, so much as breathed in his direction, would come out of the woodwork; that you were likely expected to ignore his infidelity for the year of your contract.

But Bruce had held your hand tightly, come home faithfully. Your physical attraction had only grown as your emotional attachment had flourished. While Bruce's nights could be late, you never had a hint of infidelity from the press, or from Bruce himself.

You knew that you were in far too deep the first time the two of you had slept together. You hadn't been able to take your eyes off of him—even as you'd cum, your gaze had been glued to him, watching his eyes slip shut as his jaw dropped, your name and a murmur of, "Fuck," mingling as his hips stuttered.

It was supposed to be easy—a year-long marriage of convenience to keep Bruce's name clean; cash for your time spent, for your name and likeness splashed all over the papers, run through the mud by the tabloids.

You'd been in a tough spot; you were willing to risk it.

But you couldn't have banked on falling in love with Bruce, or on Bruce falling in love with you.

For better or worse, in sickness and in health, sometimes it feels too damn good to be true. Sometimes you wake up in Bruce's arms, and you just keep still and hold your breath. You revel in the warmth and comfort of his arms, and just feel the rise and fall of his chest against your back.

You've known that the end of your contract was nearing, but Bruce hasn't mentioned it.

Not until now.

"Properly?" You question, fingers skimming along his side. Bruce hums, hands sliding over your shoulder. "Was there some hitch with the first license that I don't know about?"

Bruce huffs softly, and your stomach flips as his hand slips up to your neck, grasping at the base and tipping your head up. You meet his eyes steadily, searching his gaze as his thumb skims along your nape.

"Go ahead," He urges, "Lie."

"Excuse me?"

"Tell me you don't feel this, too."

"Bruce," You huff, pushing yourself up, drawing back from his arms. It's hardly a few seconds before Bruce is up behind you.

"Tell me."

"It's just—We have a contract."

"Fuck the contract."

"You're speaking in a lot of absolutes."

"...Look at me."

You hesitate, gaze lingering on the gold band on your wing finger before you tip your head back toward him. You let your eyes sweep and settle on his chest, his shoulder. It's safe there.

But Bruce has never been one to go the safe route. He reaches up, curling his fingers tenderly around your jaw, tipping your chin up and forcing your eye contact.

"If you want out, tell me right now," He insists. "Nothing from the arrangement will change. We'll divorce, you'll have your stipend...Or," He leans into it softly, "We keep on. Nothing changes...Alfred will get ordained—"

"Bruce!"

"—And marry us properly...He should've been there the first time."

You frown as his face shifts, his eyes dropping to your lap. You hadn't known then, but you know now how dear Alfred is to Bruce, and Bruce is to Alfred. You hadn't known when you'd agreed to the contract, but it's become crystal clear to you now.

You push a quiet sigh through your nose, reaching up and taking hold of one of Bruce's hands in both of yours.

"What if you change your mind?" You ply softly.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean...This was supposed to be temporary, Bruce. We had a deal—we have paperwork, for fuckssake."

"I'll add a non-compete."

"Be serious—"

"I am being serious." Bruce intertwines your fingers, raising your hand and pressing a kiss to your ring. "Not about the non-compete, but...About Alfred. About getting married—and meaning it, this time."

You consider for a few moments before you lean against Bruce, sliding your thumb along his knuckles as you consider.

"The contract should be retooled into a prenup."

"We don't need a prenup."

"Now you're being ridiculous."

"No," Bruce insists. "I'm being decisive. I know what I'm doing."

"What if you're wrong about me?"

"I'm not."

"Are you always so full of yourself?"

"Sure of myself."

"Tomato, to-mah-to."

"Are you gonna marry me again or not, Mrs. Wayne?"

You grin, tipping your head back to press a gentle kiss to Bruce's jaw.

"Again and again, Mr. Wayne."

Tag list:

@missredherring ; @fantasticcopeaglepasta ; @massivecolorspygiant ; @blueeyesatnight ; @amneris21 ; 

@ew-erin ; @youngkenobilove ; @carbonated-beverage ;  @moonlightburned ; @milf-trinity ; 

@millllenniawrites ; @chattychell ; @dihra-vesa​ ; @videogamesandpoorlifechoices​ ; 

@thembosapphicclown ; @brandyllyn ; @wildmoonflower ; @mad-girl-without-a-box ; 

@winchestershiresauce ; @lorecraft ; @kmc1989 ; @missswriter ; @nominalnebula

[hoshifighting]

hiiii there!! how are you? I absolutely love your writing, it’s so good like damn!!!

can i request an ot13 reaction (?) to their partner having some problems while communicating/speaking? Mainly stuttering, every once in a while ;)

tysm and stay healthy 🫶

seventeen reaction to you having problems when communicating/speaking

WARNINGS: mentions of fear about public speaking.

— seungcheol, jeonghan, mingyu, seungkwan & chan: they always watches you with that soft, encouraging gaze. they wait patiently, never rushing you, even when you stumble over your words. they got a gentle smile, like they're saying, take your time, i’m here. and when you finally get the words out, they nod, as if it was the most important thing they have heard all day. “no rush, just speak your mind.”

— junhui, wonwoo, woozi, vernon & minghao: understands the struggle all too well. they're always there, quietly supporting you, giving you the space to find your voice. and it makes you feel like you can do anything. not one's to say much, but when they do, it’s always meaningful. “you’re doing great, just keep going.”

— hoshi, joshua & seokmin: ready to jump in if you need it. they've got this way of knowing when you’re struggling, and they’ll subtly help you along without making a big deal out of it. have this incredible ability to read your emotions. you can tell they genuinely care about what you have to say. “take your time. i love hearing you talk.”

[hgfictionwriter]

Moments

Jessie Fleming x Reader

Summary: This is possibly the most meaningful moment of Jessie’s career. Even then, there are moments bigger than football. You deliver some big news to Jessie.

Warning: Mild language. Otherwise none. Fluff.

A/N: Jessie x Reader pregnancy announcement fic. Side note: I love this damn team. They never give up and I adore them for it.

“Elysse.”

The wind was almost knocked out of you as Jessie’s sister threw herself into your arms. Tears immediately sprung to your eyes as Jessie’s parents and brother surrounded you in a large embrace.

“We’re so glad you’re here,” Jessie’s mom said, her own eyes watery as you all slowly disentangled yourselves from one another.

“I wouldn’t miss it,” you told her as you wiped at the corner of your eye. “Not under these circumstances.”

You felt the wave of emotions you’d been struggling to process rise up once more. The drones. The scandal. The public doubts. The criticisms. The injustice. It was horrible. And you - Jessie, the team, felt powerless.

You weren’t supposed to be arriving in France until later, but given the pandemonium, you flew out early. You texted Elysse right away and soon enough you had it all coordinated.

Jessie, on the other hand, had no idea. It was normal for her to retreat almost entirely to the team during competitions of this caliber, especially now as captain. With the added scandal, she didn’t need more distractions. She had more than enough on her shoulders. You didn’t need her worrying about you leading up to this game with France.

But you had to be here. There was no way you’d miss this game. Win or lose, you’d be there by her side after the final whistle.

Besides. You had something to tell her. Something bigger than football. Bigger than this moment.

You were absolutely beside yourself all match. Your stomach was in your throat and you were literally on the edge of your seat. Minus the two times you and her family erupted out of your seats to celebrate Canada’s goals. Tears in your eyes as Jessie equalized and ran to her teammates. Then again when Vanessa slotted it home to seal the 3 points.

When the ref finally blew the final whistles, you were all on your feet again cheering and crying. It felt as satisfying as a gold medal match. You knew how gratifying and validating this win was for Jessie and the team; it was obvious.

The on-pitch celebrations began to transition as team members started climbing into the stands to see their families. Your throat tightened with emotion and you beamed as Jessie took the stairs two at a time.

Elysse tried to pull you forward, but you shook your head and gave her a small nudge, opting to stay concealed at the back of the group.

Jessie’s voice filled your head, immediately eliciting emotion as she threw her arms around her parents, then siblings, her head tucked down as always in an embrace until she came up for air and her eyes locked on you.

She stilled momentarily, blinking, a wide smile lingering on her lips as she registered your presence. You were about to speak when she threw herself forward, her arms wrapping tightly around you and she clutched you to her, tightening her grip on you several times as she held you desperately to her. You heard her start crying in your ear, her shoulders shaking and you felt your body immediately mirror hers.

“I didn’t know you’d be here,” she told you, her voice strained in your ear as she refused to let you go.

“I couldn’t miss this,” you told her. “There’s no way I was going to let you finish this match without me being here.”

Jessie finally pulled back to look at you, though keeping you in her embrace. Tears stained her red cheeks and she gave you a mild shake of her head.

“You didn’t need to come,” she told you, not very convincingly.

“Jessie,” you chided. She laughed and pulled you into another embrace, kissing you this time.

“You’re the best,” she declared, her voice wavering with emotion again. You gave her a wink as you wiped away a tear that rolled down her cheek.

“You married me for a reason, you know.”

She laughed and hugged you tightly once more.

“I’m pretty smart sometimes, aren’t I?” She joked.

You didn’t respond. Hardly even chuckling as your mind seesawed back and forth. You’d debated the timing of this since the moment you found out, and that debate had only heightened in light of recent developments.

Jessie pulled back, a smile still on her face as she studied you.

“Are you okay?” She asked lightly. You gazed into her deep brown eyes, full of love and devotion.

This was the moment.

“I’m so good,” you told her, your voice softer as you held her gaze. Her smile persisted, but she narrowed her eyes slightly at you and gave a curious laugh. You cupped her face and leaned in to give her a slow kiss. When you pulled back she smiled further, eyes idly searching your face.

“What did I do to deserve that?” She chuckled. You shot her a look.

“What didn’t you do?” You retorted with a smirk before taking a quick breath. “I would’ve been here for you during this game no matter what, but I also came to tell you something.”

At this, Jessie’s smile faded and her brow furrowed slightly as she grew serious. She seemed to steel herself slightly and she nodded for you to continue.

You smiled adoringly at her and cupped her face once more.

“Jessie,” you said and she stood still waiting intently. “I’m pregnant.”

You watched her just as intently, gauging her reaction. Her expression remained fixed and she stood there wordless, breathless, for a moment before her jaw dropped slightly as her eyes searched yours.

“You’re…we’re…I’m…” she stammered, her eyes still rapidly scanning you as a smile began to tug at her lips. You nodded, now beaming at her.

“I’m pregnant. We’re having a baby.”

This time the words set in and Jessie scooped you up into her arms, spinning you around, laughing brightly in your ear before gently setting you down. Her eyes were brimming with tears as she gave you a watery smile.

She continued to stammer, eyes fixed on you as she struggled to find the right words. Eventually she found them. Simple and true.

“I love you so much,” she said, voice wavering again with emotion. “I can’t believe this. We’re going to have a family.”

You laughed warmly as Jessie blinked back more tears.

“We are. And our baby is-“

“Our baby,” Jessie mouthed, lip trembling as tears began to fall once more. You chuckled, beyond endeared by her reaction and emotion, as you leaned in and kissed one of her tears.

“Our baby,” you repeated, “is so lucky to have you as a mom. I’m so grateful that they’ll have someone raising them and loving them - someone they can look up to - who is so passionate, and kind, and full of heart. Someone who led during an unthinkable time, and fought and didn’t give up - on herself or others - when it would’ve been so easy to. I couldn’t be prouder. And I know they’ll be so proud to call you their mom.”

Jessie let out a sob as she pulled you tightly into her arms again.

“I didn’t know if I should tell you now or not. I just-”

“Yes!” Jessie laughed as she pulled back, hands cupping your cheeks as she grinned. “Oh my god! Yes. I’m so glad you did.” She swallowed, steadying her emotions. “I actually think I’m going to be a little bothered that you didn’t tell me sooner, but we can deal with that later,” she went on with a smirk.

She stared at you lovingly, her thumb caressing your cheek. You idly noted that a lot of players had retreated to the locker room. You knew she’d have to go soon.

“I love you so much,” she repeated, voice growing tight again as she fought off another resurgence of emotion. “Thank you for telling me. This is so much bigger than all of this bullshit.” She paused before placing a hand gingerly, in wonder even, on your stomach. “This is what matters more than anything.”

You placed a hand over hers and gave a nod to the pitch.

“Regardless of what happens over the next week. You showed the world what this team, and what you, are made of.” You paused purposefully. “You’ve won already, Jess.”

She gently stroked your stomach with her thumb and smiled brightly at you.

“I really have,” she assured you. She gave you a wink and a quick kiss. “But I’m going to win us another medal.”

[blvdheart]

SHARED MY BODY AND MY MIND WITH YOU

→ Leon broke up with you because of his emotional baggage, not wanting to drag you down into his trauma-induced misery. He didn’t usually date out of his line of work anyway, he hated himself for involving himself with someone so innocent. But when he gets a voicemail at an awfully late hour and listens to it, he nearly broke driving laws to get to your place. He still loves you, that much is certain. Your body and mind are like a second nature to him

CW: MDNI, fem!reader, pwp, one sided breakup, angst, description of leon’s self guilt and sabotage, heavy mentions of marriage, centered around Leon rather than the reader, reconciliation, lovemaking–gentle sex, crying, very small religious snippet, he eats you out, unprotected p in v, implied aftercare + implication of a better future

WC: 5.3k

Note: i think…this is my favorite fic that i’ve ever written. breaking my pink blog theme with this and actually capitalizing letters um…i had to set the tone okay. i actually started working on this in january to cope with some things, but i didn’t make much progress until recently!! the title’s a lyric from the song ‘cruel world’

MASTERLIST

Leon has a rule: never get emotionally involved with anyone who isn’t in his line of work. The reason behind that is self-explanatory. It's too difficult to accomplish. All his baggage holds him down, and he’s always away for long periods at a time and then returns back with body aches all over and has to hibernate for a while. What does he truly have to offer?

He did it anyway.

You managed to romance him, granting him a fleeting glimpse of happiness and a chance at self-love. Lingering caresses, meaningful eye contact, soulful conversations, an audience to his jokes, the key to your heart — you gave him everything.

Breaking up with you was painful, the second it was all said and done and you were out of his sight, he broke down crying. That was what he deserved, that’s what his mind told him.

It was easy for Leon to disappear from your life, just as quick as the snap of his fingers. He was never around that much to begin with. Your efforts in reaching out to him were futile if he was halfway across the world dealing with another abrupt assignment, or if he fell back into the habit of nursing a drink in some run down bar without contacting a soul.

But no amount of alcohol could make him forget about you these days. The memories of you were too strong to be diluted.

“What about this one?” Curiosity had dripped from your question, your fingers gently feathered across the healed up scar on his left shoulder.

Leon was almost an open book when it came to you, he truly cherished honesty in any relationship, whether romantic or platonic. Guilt weighed on him for having to limit certain answers to only the surface details. It felt wrong; it felt like he was keeping secrets from you and keeping you in the dark. But it couldn’t be helped, not when you weren’t in the same line of work as him. Most of the contents of his work were confidential.

After all, at this point the two of you had only been dating for half a year. How could he burden your mind with the harsh realities of everything that wasn’t known by the general public?

The two of you were naked, tangled under the sheets. No sex or anything, simply getting familiar with each other’s bodies and exploring with gentle and cautious hands.

“1998, shot on duty.”

The memories were still fresh in his mind. People say that forgetting a traumatic event is common, people dissociate to cope and shield their brain. It was the opposite for Leon. All the screams plagued his mind like a damn mantra, no way in hell would he ever be able to forget anyone’s voice.

Either that, or his mind made up fantasies about what could’ve been between you both. Domestic bliss. Buying a house together. Shy talks about how many kids you guys wanted. The memories haunted him. He wanted it back.

He even bought a ring. A beautiful one that he was meant to display to you when he sunk onto one knee and popped the question that would hopefully bind the two of you for life. The one that he was supposed to fidget with whenever he held your hand as the two of you planned your wedding, whether it be simple, grand, or to elope.

He kept it safe even after he broke up with you, he couldn’t bear to throw it away because of the sliver of hope that maybe one day he’d still get the chance of putting it on your finger. He felt like a fool. Sometimes he opened the box up to reminisce. It tugged at his heartstrings when he saw how rough his own fingers were in comparison to the smooth metal, from his years of physical exhaustion and training. God, he wished your hands would never get all battered like his.

He thought about you so much that you were the star actress in his nightly dreams.

The worst ones were the nightmares, though. Like the one that had him turning in his sleep tonight.

It all replayed in his mind. Your facial expression when he broke up with you out of the blue — the way the smile on your face had faded into a frown, your glimmering eyes contorting into that of disheartened ones. The way you looked at him with such a concoction of emotions. The pitiful chuckle that escaped your lips along with a nervously spoken ‘what?’ Or maybe it was the prolonged silence afterwards that killed him. It felt like hours until he got a proper response from you, one that was drowned out by the drumming of his own heart and the pulse that formed in his ears.

Usually he got to the end of it, but tonight he was abruptly woken up by the sound of his phone ringing. A blessing in disguise, maybe. Regardless, he was a bit irritated, he had always been such a light sleeper.

“You’re kidding…” Leon let out a heavy sigh, trying to rub the sleep away from his eyes. He didn’t even want to answer, too tired to even think about the possibility of being called to the field. No way in hell did he want to be met with Hunnigan’s voice and some intel he didn’t feel like remembering.

He let the phone ring, and eventually, blissful silence filled the room again. If it was dire, he knew he’d get another call soon.

Instead, he heard his phone vibrate not long after. He muttered out a curse before reaching for his phone, seeing that a voicemail was left. He didn’t bother reading whose number it was. Christ, the message was 5:06 minutes long.

Whatever. He played it aloud, resting his forearm over his face as he listened in.

“Hey Leon, it’s me…”

Fuck.

He fully sat up on his bed, so quickly it could’ve given him whiplash.

“I miss you. Still think about you every day. I don’t know what I did wrong…you probably aren’t even listening to this. I just…I don’t know.” a sigh. “The clock hit 12 and um, well today’s the anniversary of the day you asked me out. Maybe you don’t remember. I think you do though, you were always good with dates.”

Leon knew the voice of a broken person when he heard it.

No. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. He was supposed to let you go and then you’d see how much life had to offer, how any other person could give you a better and more stable relationship.

How could you be hung up on a man like him?

It was instinctual. He shuffled out of bed, body reacting before his mind and reaching for a clean pair of clothes from his closet. He left the voicemail playing in the background, it filled his lonely house. His heart was racing so loudly he couldn’t even hear the sounds of the wind outside or the creak of the floor with every step. All he did was change and brush his teeth before he drove over to you.

Thankfully, the roads were empty and the highway was free of traffic or else surely he would’ve been pulled over.

Thinking rationally wasn’t necessary when it came to you, not when he just got punched in the gut with a load of nostalgia and gut wrenching heartbreak.

He has always been yours, even during the separation. His heart hammered within his ribcage when he pulled into your driveway, his body moving in a hurry out of his car and towards your door. No hesitation.

Knock, knock, knock.

Ten seconds felt like ten minutes, but eventually the door swung open.

Your pretty face filled the focus of his pupils, his expression softening. You looked like a deer in the headlights, gazing up at him with wide eyes.

Oh, my sweet girl. There she is.

His hands itched to reach for you, to hold you in his arms and spin you around, nuzzling his nose against yours like old times — like some romantic drama. He hadn’t watched one in a while, they reminded him too much of you. He shoved his hands in his pockets.

Leon's hair was messy. It was a sight you had seen many times: his bed hair. Those emotion carrying eyes of his were contrasted with the lifeless bags under them. He came over so damn quickly he hadn’t even taken the time to make himself look composed.

“Leon? What are you…” You couldn’t even finish your thoughts. You felt nothing yet so much at the same time, perhaps from the shock of it all. You brought two fingers to the pulse on your neck to make sure you were awake, and hadn’t somehow fallen asleep after your call and voicemail to him. The thundering pace of your pulse confirmed that you weren’t off in dream land.

“I got your voicemail,” He responded, sounding remorseful. “Had to make sure you were alright. Uh…can I come in?”

You continued staring at him like if he was some sort of supernatural being. If you reached your hand out to touch him, would he disappear? Or perhaps your limb would go straight through him as if he was transparent.

You snapped out of it and nodded. “Yeah, come on in.” Hesitation clouded your tone, not out of wariness but because you had no clue what the hell was going on. You hadn’t seen him in over a year, at least not in person, only through photos and videos you still had saved on your phone from when the two of you were dating (going through them was part of your nightly routine.)

“To be honest…I wasn’t expecting you to even hear my message.”

You stood there awkwardly as he entered, closing the door afterwards. Your apartment still smelled the same, a wave of comfort washed over him despite the circumstances, his eyes darting around at all your belongings. This was once his safe space, like his secret haven.

You sat on your couch, waving him over. Your legs felt like jelly, no way could you be standing for this. He followed, sitting on the couch cushion on the opposite side from you.

“My ringtone woke me up. I thought you were a coworker of mine at first but…I’m glad you weren’t.”

“Glad, really?”

“Yeah.” He gave no further context, at least for that minute.

Silence hung in the air, time became still. Either way, the shared glance between the two of you broke the tension, you were both thinking the same thing. Your minds were linked, seeking reconciliation, every circuit of neurons buzzing with your shared proximity.

He rested his elbows on his knees, running a hand through his hair, a nervous habit. Everything felt surreal, you couldn’t take your eyes off him, afraid he’d disappear.

“I’m…I’m sorry about the way I ended things.” There was a crack in his voice, he was so desperately clinging onto the ideology that he shouldn’t wear all his heart on his sleeve. He failed every time though, his words had wavered.

“I know.” You truly did.

“How?”

“Because I know you, Leon. It hurt, and I found myself wondering why you would just up and leave after what felt like such a meaningful time. But I didn't ever think you did it with mal intent.”

You should be demanding answers, hell, he could even take a few slaps to the face. Maybe his guilt ridden self preferred that to your sweet treatment. Did he even deserve to be met with your understanding? This self-pitying mindset he harbored is what had led to this in the first place.

“You’re right. I didn’t mean to hurt you, that’s the last thing I wanted to do.” Were his efforts in explaining himself getting across? “I thought it was better this way. I'm…broken.”

Trying to convince him that he isn’t ‘broken’ was futile, all you could do was beautify it instead. You scooted closer to him, clasping one of his hands between yours. “All you see are your faults, but I was seeing you entirely, not just for what you do in your job or the images that keep you up at night.”

His hands felt the same. Calloused in areas he couldn’t help like his knuckles and his palms, but well-kept in the nail department. He looked down at the physical contact, putting his other hand atop yours, his thumb grazing tenderly at your skin. Familiar territory.

“It’s hard not to.” He admitted, his eyes feeling glossy all of a sudden. “My job is my life, it drags into every other part of my life.”

“How did it drag into our relationship?”

He truly didn’t know how to answer that. The times he shared with you were the best experiences of his life. He finally got the chance to pull out his cardboard box full of romantic movies to watch with the lover he had been waiting for his whole life, you. Countless nights spent cooking together in your kitchen, full of laughter and playful bickering, and some harmless food fights. Grocery shopping together with laced fingers, just a sneak peek into domesticity. God, he yearned for its return.

“I don’t know. I constantly had to leave and got no vacation time either. Let’s see…I had to keep a lot of information confidential. It kinda screams ‘this’ll all make a girl run the other way.’”

How wrong he was, he ended up leaving before he could get abandoned, as if that would’ve happened, though, you never wanted him out of your life.

“That wasn’t true for me, Leon. I wanted to be with you. I just hope I wasn’t a burden on you.”

That hurt. A dull ache spread across his chest. He pulled you close, tucking you against his side.

“Don’t say that,” His instruction was soft spoken, his lips brushed against your cheek. You were never a burden, he always shut you out, thinking that his heart was full of thorns and you’d prick yourself if he let you get too close. That, perhaps his sorrow was contagious and his poison would flood your veins.

Words of comfort weren’t his strong suit, but he tried his best. He had to. “You weren’t a burden. Never were, and never will be, okay?”

It felt so good to have you against him, his gaze was set on you, searching for any indicator that you were uncomfortable. You leaned your shoulder against his shoulder though, nuzzling against him. Pensive silence followed.

Even with the somber undertones filling your apartment, your heart was bursting. He was here, back with you. Holding you like he used to do after you had a particularly stressful day at work, or when you had an argument with one of your close ones.

The long separation made familiar carnal desires spark to life, along with the itch to bring them to fruition.

“I’m glad you’re here.” You murmured to him, but your wavering voice caught his instant attention.

You were on the verge of tears, oh dear. If you started sobbing, he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to hold back from crying either.

Leon didn’t waste a second, pulling you onto his lap, one of his hands stroking the back of your head, his other arm wrapping around your back.

“What are you thinking about?” He needed to know. You had always been the most verbal, whereas his feelings usually showed on his face or body language.

“About how much I missed you.” You respond, running your hands up and down his arms, squeezing at his muscles. “And how unreal this feels. And…” Your eyes flicker down to his lips. “I wanna kiss you, Leon…and y’know.” Make love. “Like old times.”

Oh.

“Are you sure?” Leon hadn’t intended for the night to play out this way. He needed to make sure you were actually thinking straight with the pool of emotions you seemed to be drowning in. To be fair, he was drowning too.

It was midnight, your bodies burned for one another.

“I am.” You uttered those words with such finality, eyes set on him.

This wasn’t some impromptu longing for his physical connection, you had been craving it for as long as the two of you had been separated. To feel him in the purest and most tender way possible, nestled against one another and eliciting feelings no one else could.

The pads of his thumbs rub circles against the fat of your hips. He's looking up at you, his eyes are unable to hide a flicker of yearning and affection. Expressive, his pupils dilated and his eyebrows slightly raised. He blinked slowly, like a cat showing utmost trust to its owner.

He looks at you like he worships you (he does.) Get him on his hands and knees, he’ll mumble your name like you’re his god and he’s praying to you, all his sins out in the open and his scarred body for you to look over and judge. He’ll be vulnerable with you if that means you’ll forgive his wrongdoings and give him a second chance. You must be a merciful god, no doubt about it.

“Don’t look at me like that.” You murmured, cupping his face. His gaze was hypnotic, sending a wave of security down your body. It almost felt as if you traveled to the time before he shattered your heart into pieces of glass.

“Like what?” He couldn’t help it. Not like he had a mirror, anyway. His face was usually tense, brows permanently furrowed and eyes narrowed from being attentive all the fucking time, his lips a straight line, jaw anything but relaxed.

Not right now, though. Never with you. Everything in his body softened and loosened up around you. Well, with the exception of his dick but that was another matter.

“You know what I mean. Like…like you still love me.”

Leon didn’t know what to say. The words died in his throat while every fiber of his being wanted to say ‘I do.’ The same words he could’ve voiced out standing across the altar from you. His brain short-circuited.

His pause came across as ambiguous to you, to mask the pain, you kissed him. Like a chocolate on a hot summer day, he melted in an instant, turning to mush, holding one side of your jaw and matching your pace.

The two of you mingled like two puzzle pieces. Your chest was flush against his, one of your hands finding his hair and pulling on it, earning a drawn out groan from him. It went slow for the first five minutes, some occasional pull backs for breath, shy smiles in betweens, before going back in like the act of kissing was needed for your pulses to continue, your hearts beating as one.

“Mmph.” Your whimper made him shudder, oh how he had missed that noise. His other hand got a bit more confident, resting on the small of your back, moving up towards your ribs then back down, almost resting on your ass.

He felt a surge of heat settle in his groin, aching to give you all the pleasure you deserved, to make you feel cherished and known. To knock any misery out of your head and replace it with euphoric sparks and reassurance. To be one with you again, if you’d have him.

He pulled away from the kiss, his eyes fluttering open. “Bedroom?”

A nod from you was all it took. He didn’t let you get up, instead holding your ass as he stood up, his lips back on yours as he carried you to your bedroom like he owned the place. His mind still had the spatial layout, it worked out and he eventually placed you onto the middle of the bed oh so delicately.

You knew what was coming, already taking your clothes off in a haste as you heard his belt come undone, the sound of his taking his shirt off, and his boots being kicked off.

It wasn’t long until he was on you again.

Leon took his time to look at your body. He was all too familiar with it, knowing exactly where certain beauty marks were, or the places that were sensitive to even the slightest fan of his breath. His fingertips ghosted over your sides, sucking in a sharp inhale as his eyes roamed all over, studying you as if you were his muse and he was about to draw you. “So beautiful…”

His lips had traveled all across you once upon a time. Leon had a great memory, perhaps one of his best features, though also his downfall. At times like these, it comes in handy. It almost seemed like a hazy flashback to the nights he had you splayed on the bed, pressing his lips against your forehead and making it all the way to the sensitive skin of your inner thighs.

He wanted to mimic the memory. “Need to taste you. Can I?”

“God, yes.” You agreed in a heartbeat, body already feeling all tingly at the anticipation.

He littered open mouthed kisses from the middle of your chest, all the way down to your end of your stomach, making your body ignite with flames and mind flood with an overwhelming sense of nostalgia. What day was it? Month? Year? You couldn’t remember, just desperately hoping this wasn’t some realistic feeling dream. You’ve had those too often, and if you woke up without him by your side, you felt like you would die from heartbreak.

He hooked his arms underneath your thighs to pull you close. His fingers dug into your thighs as he took another look at his favorite pretty cunt. He missed this. Missed you. Missed having you grind yourself against his face until he couldn’t breathe. Missed having his heart race from the angelic noises you blessed his ears with.

His nose pressed against your clit, applying light pressure as his tongue lapped at your slit, gathering the dew there. Geez, he really got right into it. Your eyes rolled back, your stomach tensing and your back arching. You could die right now by your (ex) lover’s tongue, what a way to go.

On the occasion that he opened his eyes, he’d look up at you through his light lashes — he swore you looked like an angel from his perspective.

“What is this? Your last meal on death row?” You were joking, but god…he really was making your mind go blank, he knew just all the right buttons to press.

“Oh, so you think I’m a criminal?”

Like always, you reached for his hair, pushing it back and hearing him growl out of contentment. He gave your clit gentle sucks before flattening his tongue against it and flicking it, his head moving side to side, repeating the process again and again.

One thing about Leon? He always found a way to turn you on by being vocal. His noises were muffled and sloppy but you could feel the vibration of all his whimpers and growls against you as he took his time eating you out. He was getting off to pleasuring you, and that fact alone made it so much hotter.

Your thighs were trembling, threatening to close in and squeeze his head. Leon placed one of his hands over your lower abdomen, applying light pressure with his palm and coaxing you into your orgasm.

It didn’t take you long to get there, you hadn’t felt a tongue on you in ages, he was your last.

“Leon, I’m—“

He already knew.

“That’s it, make a mess all over my face.” It sounded like a demand but instead it came across as a pitiful and desperate plea.

How many times had he been in this position? Lying on his stomach, your taste on his tongue, chin dripping with his drool and your wetness, feeling your body trembling…he couldn’t even count how many. But it was enough for him to know your body like no other.

He kept going even after your thighs started squeezing in on him, even with the way you unintentionally tugged at his hair enough to have him rutting against your sheets. He made sure to make your orgasm feel good, lapping at you all throughout until he heard a whine leave your lips and he felt you weakly push his head away — he didn’t want to overstimulate you and hurt you.

He finally took a breath, one that filled his lungs with satisfaction as he propped himself up on his elbows before sitting up. He ran a hand through his hair, feeling his blood pump south with the way you were still composing yourself, your legs twitching all cutely and your torso rising and sinking with each deep breath you attempted to take.

“Do you wanna…” Your eyes flitted down to the prominent tent in his pants, feeling a stirring in your stomach already.

“Do you?”

“Yeah. I mean…only if you want to.”

With his belt already in some corner of the room and his fly down, all that was left was discarding his pants and boxers down. He fished his wallet out and pulled a packet from it before doing so.

You were too distracted eyeing his now exposed dick, gulping. It had been a while. But a certain wrapper noise caught your attention. A condom. You had always been careful with him in the past, but you wanted him inside him without any barriers. To feel him entirely, his skin against your insides.

“Don’t, please?”

“But–“

“I need to feel you, Leon.”

“Already being a bad influence on me? What am I gonna do with you?” His jest was met with your roll of eyes, but the corners of your eyes crinkled, happy he was already comfortable enough to bicker a bit.

He pet your head, gazing fondly at you as he awaited your response.

“I just want to feel you as close as possible. I don't know how to explain it. You can pull out at the end…I dunno.”

You didn’t need to explain further, because he felt the same. He kissed your forehead, whispering “okay.”

Getting in between you and in position for missionary, he continued peppering kisses all over your face. He couldn’t hold back, he had so much to make up for, he owed you at least a thousand more. He pushed into you, a breathy moan leaving his lips, it felt like he had just entered the pearly gates. And the way your jaw hung open in a silent gasp told him you felt the same.

“You alright?”

“Mhm, keep going.”

“God, I missed you…” His thrusts made the bed creak, adding to the assortment of sounds of two bodies joined as one: skin against skin, high pitched gasps and occasional throaty groans, nails scratching against Leon’s back and leaving red marks in their wake, a subtle noise, but there nonetheless.

“Yeah? How much?”

“Too much. Could never get you outta my mind.” He admitted, burying his head against your neck to leave open-mouthed kisses all over, smiling when he felt you squirming. “Dreamt about you every night. Every…every morning I woke up, I thought you’d still be by my side.”

His response knocked the breath out of you, God if you could have him closer than physically possible, you would. This was the closest you’d be though, his tip hitting your g-spot, his body flush against yours, it was just the two of you in this never ending universe.

“Leon…Leon…fuck.” You called for him like you needed him to prevent you from crumbling.

He pinned one of your hands to the side of your head and laced his fingers between yours, his head remaining against your other side, raspy grunts and incoherent praises rumbling against your ear. He gently bit your earlobe, tugging at it and sending a shiver down your spine.

Despite all his self doubts, Leon knew how to love, how to send another person to cloud nine and make their head fuzzy with sheer euphoria. He wasn’t fucking you, he was loving you, there’s a clear difference.

His lips trailed to your jawline, eventually reaching your lips and initiating an uncoordinated make out session, the sound of dazed out whimpers and quiet growls mixing together perfectly.

He was getting there, his pace more erratic than before, his hand squeezing yours tightly. “You’re so pretty.” He mumbled against your lips, speaking in between rushed pecks. “Prettiest girl in the world.”

You managed to smile at that. “Yeah? Well you’re the prettiest boy in the world.”

You could’ve said handsome. Or hot. Or cute. But Leon was pretty, that was always the first thing that came to your mind. He was like a model, surely some agency would have tried to recruit him if he were actually in broad daylight more.

“Mm.” He liked the compliment. No more words were exchanged after that, he was focused on feeling you. Feeling the way you took all of him like it was nothing, clearly the two of you were physically made for one another.

There was no going back from this, Leon couldn’t bear the thought of getting a taste of happiness yet again and then falling back into a hopeless pit. He wouldn’t push you away again.

You were already sensitive from the way he had made you cum on his face earlier. You pulled away from his kisses, your head thrashing side to side against the pillow instead, your hips desperately bucking to meet his.

“Leon…”

“Just let go for me, you can do it.”

Moans ripped from your throat, your nails leaving crescent indents on his skin as your body writhed underneath him. Leon couldn’t take his eyes off of you as you came, his own stomach feeling tighter and tighter until he followed suit.

“I love you.” He let it slip at the very end, his mind too dazed and his emotions for you running at full blast. You would’ve replied if not for the way you were in awe, watching the way his eyebrows furrowed, his head tilted back, his mouth let out the raspiest grunts as he pulled out and came. Fuck, he couldn’t be real.

It was only then that Leon’s head cleared. He felt his heart sink to his stomach, had he said something wrong? The moment died down, he felt uncertain about how you’d react. Regardless, Leon took a moment to admire you in your flushed state before leaning down to kiss your head, then lying down beside you and pulling you to his side.

You were all dazed with his confession lingering in your head.

He still loved you. Maybe it was obvious, but hearing it aloud was a completely different feeling.

All the suppressed emotions between the two of you were being put on the spotlight. Your eyes brimmed with unshed tears, you tried to blink them away, but you failed.

Leon wished your eyes hadn’t gotten glossy and that your lips hadn’t tugged into a small frown. It made his heart physically ache. Heavy hearted, that’s what he felt like, swallowing to try to alleviate just how sore his throat felt all of a sudden. Guilt bubbled in his stomach because he knew he was the source of your tears.

He kissed away your tears, welcoming the salty taste of them.

He couldn’t tell you not to cry, he wasn’t in the position to. All he could do was reassure you instead, curling his hand into a fist before rubbing soothing circles onto your back as he watched you curl against him.

“Hey…”

“Sorry. I didn't mean to start crying. I just…you still love me? Did you mean that?”

“It’s okay. Just let it out, I'm here for you.” He had your head tucked underneath his chin. “And yeah…I never stopped.”

“I love you too.”

He wasn’t leaving this time.

Maybe that ring he held onto would find its true owner soon.

You, his sweet girl.

[hemlock-dreams]

Can you tell us a little about your Wade?

Wade Wilson is an incredibly bitter and angry man. Funny, though. Because humor is the defense mechanism that keeps his mouth running so he doesn't have to listen to himself think.

But he only ever talks about what he feels. Never about his feelings. Those are dangerous. Despite the endless chatter, he's incredibly guarded and keeps his deepest darkest secrets locked tight.

Like how he's always wanted to be good, but doesn't really believe in it anymore because every instance of his life has stripped that faith from him. He doesn't believe in much, especially himself.

He's also incredibly lonely, but has given up on sustaining meaningful relationships. Wade is a mess. Everything in his head is mixed up in a cacophony of noise and chronic pain. All his coping mechanisms are just advanced forms of running away from himself (hyperfixations/substance abuse/self harm/killing), so its only fitting that others run away too.

And people never want what's past the walls, so he leans into it, pushing and twisting the knife just to see how fast he can get people to leave because the game was always rigged- so he might as well win first. And because he'd rather kill himself (and does) than be vulnerable with others.

But the need is still there. Wade takes all the physical and emotional trauma and turns it around, using pain to cope with pain, and hypersexualizing violence to fulfill his need for intimacy.

As a merc, he's damn good at what he does. Wade is smarter than he portrays and is incredibly competent. He enjoys the violence, especially when people can give as good as they get. He has some morals, but those are hanging on a frayed thread on the best of days.

Most days he feels untethered, a piece of driftwood being tossed and turned in an turbulent sea. But there's two new figures in his life that give him something to hyperfixate on. Might as well see how much of a beating they can take before they inevitably leave him too.

(This is also one of the first questions I ever got- I am SO sorry lmaoo- I hope it satisfies!)

[strangelittlestories]

There’s a larp (live action roleplaying) game that I play, where there exists a creature we have dubbed a ‘Chronovore’.

This planet-sized sci-fi beastie eats time via a cool-ass external digestive system that ranges out from its main corpus (what are effectively its digestive enzymes look like glowing blue-winged angels, which are creepy as sin).

My character in this game fell victim to said chronovoric digestion and was aged 30 years by the experience. They lost what they expected to be the most valuable years of their life - the time when they expected to most make a difference to the universe.

I have a lot of emotions about this. Especially because when I look at my life aged 39 and consider the shape I am trying to hammer it into, one thought keeps recurring: I wish I had started this work sooner.

And then I consider my ADHD (a condition I am really certain I have, but am still seeking diagnosis for) and damn if I do not feel like it straight up ate decades of my life.

That’s how it feels, gang. There’s this bubbling resentful rage and grief for years spent with an invisible wall between me and what I wanted. For the nights where I spent (and still spend) revenge procrastinating and wrecking my days. For all the hours chasing short-term dopamine that was often destructive for me.

Hours. Days. Years. Eaten by a part of me that often feels like a monster squatting in my brain, hiding in my bones.

It reminds me, too, of that scene from a Hammer Horror movie where a monster expert is talking about vampires and says something like “Oh, you still think vamps are just things with big teeth that gotta bite your neck and drink your blood? Sweet baby, there’s all kinds of these creatures; some of them just fully suck your life straight out of your soul.”

This is why I don’t think I’ll ever think of my ADHD as a superpower. Or, at least, if it is: it’s from one of those gritty think piece superhero stories where your power is also a hecking curse.

I am preoccupied by what my own brain has taken from me.

And the thing is: it’s not really true. At least, not all the way true.

Those years I think of as lost were filled with good times. I made meaningful connections. I wrote poems and stories that I love. I performed art that meant something to me in front of people who enjoyed it. I consumed a lot of good media. I learned and dreamed and tried really hard to be a person I could be happy being.

But I also let a lot of the things fall into the background. I started a lot, but didn’t finish a lot. I missed the chance to work on skills that are now harder to learn because I’m older.

So I find myself cursing the Chronovore.

I nearly wrote this as a piece of fiction. If I had, I would probably have ended with the protagonist finding a way to subvert or redeem or work with the Chronovore.

Maybe the satisfying ending just this: none of us get as much time as we want. We all give time away - whether it be taxed by things we resent or gifted to what is important.

The Chronovore is not special.

And if it is not special, then it is mutable.

Maybe that is enough.

[astridselixir]

A/n: I ACCIDENTALLY DELETED A DRAFT. I’M ACTUALLY CRYING. I FEEL SO UPSET. It was my first request too :(( This was a request from an anon but I also lost that when I deleted the draft, so anon, wherever you are, I’m sorry 🥹💔 Have this as an apology 😭

Characters: Caitlyn, Vi, Sevika, Jinx

Summary: Hcs when you sleep with them <3

Warnings: none. Just fluff and a bit suggestive ig

ִ ࣪𖤐*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Caitlyn

☆彡 Caitlyn is definitely clingy when you two sleep together. Like she just throws herself on you and she’s not ashamed of it, in fact, she’s proud of it.

She also really loves being held and will never pass up the opportunity to be the little spoon. Especially after a tiring day of work as an enforcer (with her coworkers being an ass to her), one simple hug from you and it’s as if her problems floated away. “Magic” as she would call it.

Her favorite position to sleep in would be wherein her face is all smushed up against your chest/belly. She loves it so much because it’s as close as she can get to you, letting her know that you were there and just within arms reach.

Although you aren’t sure how she gets into this specific position or how she moves without you noticing, but hey, it’s Caitlyn, you would love her even with her strange ways.

And of course, there’s the occasional worry that she might not be getting enough oxygen with her face buried onto you like that. You’ve brought this up to her a few times but she always dismisses that fact and would sometimes retort with something cheesy like: “Why would I need air when I have you, my love?” She’s such a romantic it’s adorable.

But besides that fact, sleeping with Caitlyn is always warm and comfortable. One that you can freely call a “safe haven”. Free from worries and doubts the minute she’s in your arms.

Vi

☆彡 Vi will most definitely not let you go if she doesn’t feel like it. And it doesn’t help the fact that she has an iron grip, so you know damn well there’s no way of resisting once you’re in her hold.

Let’s be real, Vi’s had a rough life so naturally, it would be hard for her to show affection. It’s something she’s ashamed of and tries her hardest to change whenever she’s with you. She’ll always try to be the best version of herself because that’s just how much she loves you.

She’s never been good with words since she’s learned how to solve problems with her fists, so it takes a bit of adjusting when you first get into a relationship together.

Because she’s not good with words, she shows her affection through actions more. These actions can be many things. From walking you home, to giving you meaningful gifts, to always taking care of you. But of course, her favorite is spending time with you and touching you anytime she can. And cuddles is the number one option when it comes down to it.

Vi is also definitely the type to whisper sweet nothings into your ear while giving you featherlight kisses all over your face, hoping to ease any pent up stress within your system as she holds you close to her.

She’s such a big softie when it comes to you and she’s not complaining <3

Sevika

☆彡 Just like Vi, you are trapped the minute Sevika pulls you down on your shared bed. She’s not afraid to cage you in her arms, causing your vision to be obscured by her muscles— which is a heavenly sight by the way. But, she knows you wouldn’t complain. And she also knows you like it too much to do so.

It’s not hard to tell that Sevika is much larger than you. Her tall frame and physique is enough to let everyone know that. You on the other hand, you’re much smaller. Not only in height but in weight too. You’re short and light, something Sevika finds adorable.

Now, let’s get something straight; Sevika isn’t soft, she’s stern and aggressive, which contrasts to your kind and lively personality.

Because of this, she isn’t afraid to tone her emotions down so you’ll be more comfortable, which is also why she’s so careful with you whenever you guys are cuddling or sleeping together— I mean, she doesn’t want to accidentally suffocate you in the middle of sleeping now does she?

Although, cuddling with Sevika either ends up becoming a make out session or her giving you multiple hickies that are impossible to cover. This woman’s libido is just too high and you are living for it.

Jinx

☆彡 Jinx 100% wraps her arms and legs around your body when you two are sleeping. She clings onto for dear life and her grip is always firm, as if not allowing you to leave unless she says so.

And her hair is most definitely just sprawled everywhere; on your face, your body, over the edge of the bed, everywhere.

She’s your unhinged, blue-haired Rapunzel 💙

Jinx is also a tease. You guys could be having such a sweet time cuddling and she’d slip her hands up your shirt and graze the skin of your stomach purposely, just to see your flustered reaction to her touch. She loves how quickly your face turns to a shade of crimson and the momentary panic in your eyes once you realize what she’s doing.

But other than that, Jinx is clingy. Like REALLY clingy.

When you guys sleep together, she would unconsciously nuzzle her face on your neck, smiling in content once she’s sure that you really are there and not just a figment of your imagination.

Because of Jinx’s past, she’s had a hard time accepting and giving affection. She’s so afraid that the minute she let’s her guard down, you’ll just get up and leave her— but you proved her wrong. You were there when Jinx was having her episodes, her breakdowns, practically all of her moments in darkness. You stayed beside her and comforted her through them.

And then and there she knew, she knew it was you she wanted to be with for life.

You were her everything. Her sanctuary, her sun, her life, her lover. She would do anything to keep you beside her, even if it meant needing to kill. But she would only resort to that if someone had badly hurt you. She’s learned to keep her impulsiveness in check since she doesn’t want to scare you off.

She knows she’s too much to bear but you’ve reassured her that she’s your too much.

And Jinx isn’t sure how many times she’s loved you even more.

(A/n: AAA FINALLY DONE. I hope you guys like it! And anon, wherever you may be, I hope you find this 😭 Thank you guys for reading and have a great day!)

[befuddledcinnamonroll]

We Are and the evolution of Thai BL tropes

The QL discord started a rewatch of My Engineer a few weeks ago, and damn, has it been an interesting experience. At the time I originally watched My Engineer, there was little that stuck out to me, because so much of what happened felt so incredibly common in a lot of the (admittedly rather limited) number of BLs being produced. It felt like pretty standard fare.

But going back and watching it in juxtaposition with We Are airing has been so fascinating. This genre has been evolving, y'all.

As much as we all joke about always getting more university BLs, there is something to be said for a format that can be used as something of a metric for the genre. And though there's only four years between My Engineer and We Are, seeing them both at once gives me such an incredible appreciation for the direction the genre is going in, the impact of having more queer voices involved in the creation of QLs, and how there's a lot of good we can find in seemingly simple spaces.

Obligatory disclaimer: This is just my perspective and subjective interpretation of what I have seen as a BL viewer of some time; also I don't have time to go in and do a university deep dive, so this isn't a real analysis, but more of a brief writeup of observations.

Trends are not black and white, of course, there is a spectrum. I'm sure we'll suffer through more Dinosaur Loves. At the same time, having such predominant production companies as GMMTV putting effort into hiring queer creatives and subverting old cliche tropes is an encouraging thing. (Especially as they were the creators of the original university trendsetting BL with Sotus).

Note: For newer QL viewers, I highly recommend @absolutebl for brushing up on trope history. For university BLs in particular, this post and this post are great starting primers.

Let's talk tropes!

Ok, one more note - some tropes are being what I would consider subverted, some more adapted to a newer framework, and some just played with - I'm going to talk about how they appear to me, but I'm not going to be super pedantic over it, because this is just for fun.

Trope: Bullying/hazing behavior

This did not age well in My Engineer, and I would guess hasn't aged well in a number of BLs (and other media, because the whole "he's mean to you because he likes you" bullshit has been around forever). Not just because the behavior was shitty, but because it was played off in the script as cute, and implied that it was completely justified for the seme to do whatever he wanted in his pursuit of his uke.

(There was also quite a strong tone of internalized homophobia, with the lead feeling more comfortable in expressing his interest through harassment than honest emotion, but the show never actually engaged with that in any meaningful way.)

We Are sets up a very traditional enemies to lovers/bullying start to the story, with Phum taking advantage of Peem's economic situation to make him his "slave".

And yet... there's some important elements here that make this more than the standard use of the trope.

Phum keeps it pretty light in his bullying behavior, and clearly is using it more to keep Peem around as company, versus the kind of bullying in My Engineer, where Duen is literally hit by a car, and yet still expected to keep jumping to Bohn's whims.

As soon as Phum realizes he really upset Peem by leaving him waiting at the mall, he genuinely feels awful about it. It's clear that his intent is not to cause harm, and that he has a conscience. He wrestles with his feelings on it quite a bit, and it ends up being the thing that gets Phum to finally express an honest emotion with Peem.

And most importantly, the script does not let him off the hook. His behavior is bad, and is identified as such by the writing. Peem pushes back and is shown to be right to do so, Beer openly says he disapproves.

So instead of a cliche story beat that's used just to start the action, or a seme who's allowed to do whatever he wants because "passion" (blech), we're seeing it used for characterization, giving us important beats about who both Phum and Peem are in how they engage with each other through the use of the trope.

Trope: Obsessive/jealous behavior

Oh, this one was painful in My Engineer. Duen couldn't even talk to another human being without Bohn getting jealous and angry and dragging him away.

Phum gets jealous, particularly around Kluen, but what makes it feel so subversive here are two key things.

Phum's jealousy has a purpose here, it's not just for drama's sake. It's not the cliche seme doing whatever he wants and being treated as justified. It's deliberately being used to explore his insecurities, and give him a challenge to overcome. Phum doesn't stomp over and drag Peem away, he retreats, he hides. When his jealousy causes him to lash out at Peem, he is immediately aware he fucked up.

And again, the script is making it clear that this behavior is not ok. Peem chides Phum when he acts unkind to Kluen, and Beer makes it clear that the solution is not petty behavior, but actually figuring out a way to communicate his feelings with Peem before he misses his chance. This is portrayed as a barrier for Phum to overcome in order to be with Peem, not an expected part of a romantic relationship.

Trope: Friendship group

There are not enough words to express how much I love the friendship group in We Are. To be fair, this is one of the better historical tropes. We've gotten a lot of amazing friend groups, even in mediocre BLs.

But it's still different in We Are, for one simple reason. In most university BLs, the friend group is a supporting structure. But here?

The story lines may be about the romance, but the point of We Are is the friendship.

I will die on this hill, y'all.

I don't have enough time to go into it fully here, but this show is a love letter to friends. It's a tribute to finding the people who see the real you and have your back unconditionally. Who cheer your successes and commiserate over your defeats, who pick you up when the world knocks you down, who call you out when you make mistakes, and push you to be better.

And romance is lovely, but all of these budding relationships are about being friends first, and then lovers, because that friendship is just as important as everything else, if not more.

Trope: Pink milk

Lol, ok, kinda kidding, kinda not. I know we all got mad over the drink wastage, but also check out these visuals - it's about diversity baby!!

TanFang speed round

My two little trope-busting bebes. These two are already so beautifully non-traditional in their composition, but I love how frequently they are used to make fun of and play with tropes just on their own.

Introduced as pining crush/friend's older brother pair, but actually secret enemies to lovers.

Grumpy/sunshine pairing, where the sunshine used to be a fighter, and grumpy smiles when he thinks no one is watching.

Wound-tending where they keep poking each other instead of acting soft.

Openly mocking the jealous boyfriend trope.

Setting up the possessive trope when Tan doesn't pick up Fang's calls, only to immediately have Fang question if he's being unreasonable.

Setting up their own cute eating scene for kicks.

"First time" sex scene making it clear this is anything but their first time.

Tan holding Fang down in the cliche possessive pose, only for Fang to take the agency of kissing Tan. (And overall saying eff off at the cliche top/bottom roles old BLs were such a fan of).

In Summary

I'm sure there are more tropes that will come to me, and we do still have 5 episodes left of We Are, so there are some potential trope uses that I am keeping an eye on. This is by no means an all-inclusive list.

But I wanted to write this, because I was genuinely shocked to realize how different my My Engineer watching experience was this time compared to my first time. How over the last few years I'd come to expect more thoughtfulness in my QL media, even in the ones that seem shallow on the surface.

Considering how fast and furious the QLs are coming these days, it's easy to forget how recent it was that we were much more starved of content. And I think sometimes we forget to take in the big picture, of how far we've come in just a few years.

Critique is always going to be important, of course, it's part of what helps us make progress. At the same time, it doesn't hurt to take a moment to look around and see some good in where we are.

@sailorbryant thanks for the push to get this written! Feel free to add thoughts!

[sankta-wraith]

One thing I think is really important when it comes to understanding Daemon and Rhaenyra's relashionship is the fact that Daemon doesn't show his love through words, he does it through actions. Quite frankly I'm not sure he knows how to verbally express love. He can't support her emotionally, but he can still do other things for her.I think this is shown really well in season 1 episode 10 and season 2 episode 1.

When Rhaenyra learns of her father's death and the Green's usurpation of her throne, she goes into premature labor almost imediatly, so there is no time for her to start planning her bid for the Iron Throne. Daemon takes the liberty of starting to plan the beginings of the war, and in doing so leaves Rhaenyra to endure childbirth alone. There is a very memorable scene in which Daemon schemes with Rhaenyra's small council at the Painted Table, whilst Rhaenyra screams in the background, even calling out for him at one point. Daemon makes no move to go to her and simply continues to plan a war, at least until Jace informs him that Rhaenyra doesn't want anything done until she is able to join them. Even then he does not join her. He goes to threaten two members of the Kingsguard with Caraxes, so as to ascertain that they will remain loyal to Rhaenyra. Now, when I first watched this scene, I, and probably everyone else, assumed that Daemon was taking the opportunity provided by Rhaenyra's premature labor to seize control and have the war start on his terms. Rhaenyra also seems to believe this, as when Jace inquires about Daemon's wherabouts she says "Off planning his war." However, upon rewatching that episode, I think that think that Daemon refusing to attend Rhaenyra in her labors and instead planning a war for her, is actually his way of trying to help her. Daemon is thinking that, while he does not know how to comfort her, and hold her hand, and help her through childbirth, he does know a thing or two about war. In his mind, he's essentially saying something along the lines of "I cannot help you there, so let me remain here where I am of use to you," because, as I said above, Daemon expresses love through his actions, not his words. I think at least part of him wants to be there for Rhaenyra, but he just doesn't know what he can say or do that would help her, so he focuses on what he can do: getting the council together and starting to plan, so that when Rhaenyra comes back he can show her that he's done something of use.

Then, when the child is stillborn, Rhaenyra once again needs comfort and reassurance that Daemon just does not know how to give. There is a scene of them, standing in front of their daughter’s funeral pyre, and you can see him give her this very concerned look, and kind of glance over like he wants to say something, but he doesn't, because he just does not know what he's supposed to say. Then Ser Erryk (or maybe Arryk, I can never remember,) arrives with the crown, and Daemon is relieved because he might not be able to offer her kind words, but he can be the one to put that crown on her head. A gesture that is even more meaningful if you consider how much he wants that crown. By being the one to physically place the crown on her head, he is telling her "I'm sorry that I can't be there for you, but I love you and I will support you." Then they go back to the war council, and Rhaenyra is asking about their numbers, and Daemon is the first one to speak. He starts talking almost before Rhaenyra finishes asking, he seems almost eager (even though their numbers are nothing to be eager about,) because she's finally asking him for something he can give. This is his chance to show her that, even if he cannot be there for her emotionally, he can still do this. He can organize this war and help her win, and do damn good job of it. This is really how Daemon says "I love you."

Then fast forward to 2x01, and Luke is dead, and Rhaenyra once again needs a level of emotional support he's simply not equipped to give, only this time, there is nothing else he can do to help her. He tries to convince Rhaenys to fly to Kings Landing, but she refuses, so he can do nothing except sit around, helplessly, while Rhaenyra mourns. Then she comes back, and he tries to be supportive, by asking if she "found what she needed," but she doesn't answer him. Instead, she declares that she "wants Aemond Targaryen." In Daemon's mind, she has essentially told him that to comfort her, he must have Aemond killed. So he uses his contacts in the City Watch to arrange it. I think one of the reasons he gave Blood and Cheese such vague instructions as to what to do if they can't find Aemond, is because he needs something for Rhaenyra. He can't be helpless any more. (Note: I am in no way condoning Blood and Cheese, or saying that Daemon did the right thing. I am simply trying to understand him and his choices better. Please dont come after me.) But then it fails. Catastrophically. And not only has Daemon failed to help Rhaenyra, he has made things much worse.

So he goes to Harrenhal to get the support of the river lords. But, so far, he has achieved next to nothing. (Obviously he's been busy with the hauntings and home renovations.) But he will not admit to Rhaenyra that he's failing miserably, so he ignores her ravens and sends none of his own. (I don't believe any of the bullshit Ryan Condal is trying to spin about him betraying her.) Because he will not go back to Dragonstone empty handed. Because to Daemon, that would be like telling Rhaenyra he doesn't love her anymore.

[shadowed-dancer]

Villains and Their Fates - A Tragedy Would Have Been Fine By Me

I've seen a lot of people who try to write off frustration with the league's fates by saying "you just wanted them to survive" or "you're just upset your favourite character died". And while that may be true for a few people, I know that it's at least not true for myself (which must mean there are others who feel the same way). So today I'm here to share my thoughts. Despite liking the villains and wanting them to be redeemed, I was also willing to accept a well written ending if they died. I just wanted to ramble a bit about the three main villains (mostly Toga) and how I felt a tragic ending could have been improved.

The only villain I felt should have lived is Dabi, but that's more because of the awkwardness his unconfirmed death caused for Shoto (read this beautifully written analysis for more). If Dabi had to die, he should have died on the battle field OR in the hospital surrounded by family where he gets a few last words in. Leaving his fate unconfirmed leads to the ruined Shoto arc, but is also just weird for a character who has existed for so long. You're telling me that even Overhaul gets a confirmed ending but DABI doesn't?

I've also talked a bit about how Endeavor's survival ruins the subplot, and in 426 he continues by making Touya's final appearance about him (rather than the two brothers) but that's something I've talked about too much. If Endeavor has to be alive and hogging screen time, the least Hori could do is imply Touya will survive rather than die, so at least Enji isn't literally stealing time from his other family members to have some interaction with Touya.

If Touya has to end up in that machine, an ideal ending would have been the doctor saying "it will be a gruelling and near-impossible uphill climb to recovery" and then Shoto can smile and say "he's done it before". Boom. Simple as that. Leave it open, but at least on a positive note so we can assume that the family will have plenty of time to reconcile, as opposed to an unknown (but limited) amount of time that Enji vows to use to talk to him (yeah I know it's supposed to be a sweet gesture but even Touya calls bullshit on it). Let Shoto and Touya eat their soba, damn it!

For Shigaraki, my grievances extend to the writing of the entire final battle between him and Deku. As such, I don't have much to say aside from that because it really is just a product of poor writing. Neither were really allowed to talk before the big moment (hell, the vestiges were narrating Deku's emotions half the time like "he must be upset, this quirk meant so much to him". Why not let him tell us???) and the back-and-forth of Shigaraki being destroyed and then not only to be destroyed again was too much. It felt sloppy and hard to follow, and once you figured it out it just felt dumb. It's as if each chapter needed some massive reveal, but the story had done it so much at this point that it just felt tired and like it was happening "because Hori said so", and that should never be what drives a story.

Speaking of "because Hori said so"...

Oh Toga. Out of all the villains, I actually liked her confrontation the most. (Lies. If Dabi vs Shoto was the end of Dabi's fight, THAT would have been the best. But the Endeavor fight ruins it). Despite having limited screen time, Toga and Uraraka had a surprisingly well-built dynamic. Their few interactions were actually meaningful and created a strong foundation for a fight, and at the very least they had more of a personal connection than Deku and Shigaraki ever did. I think that Toga giving her blood to someone she loves (as opposed to drinking/taking their blood like she had said the whole series) is a beautifully tragic end to her character, but still something that could have fit.

To me, the problem comes with how she died. Let me replay the scene for you: Toga stabs Uraraka in the stomach and Uraraka bleeds too much because she keeps moving around. Toga then realizes she doesn't want Uraraka to die. To save her life, Toga has to do a blood transfusion with herself as a donor and she dies because she has to give ALL her blood.

Now... sure. Ok. Fine. Yeah. Maybe by real-world logic this makes sense. I guess. Whatever. But within the world of MHA, this setup is laughable.

Here's a list of things characters survived (or at least, they survived LONG ENOUGH to get to a hospital rather than dying on the battlefield): Deku shattering his bones with 1 million percent, whatever happened to Best Jeanist when AFO attacked him, Nighteye getting a massive spike through the torso, All Might with "his entrails strewn across the ground", Bakugo becoming Swiss cheese, Grand Torino being punched so hard a crater forms beneath him, Touya being a literal flaming skeleton, Bakugo's heart exploding, Edgeshot becoming a worm. Mirko getting a limb ripped off and then running full speed at Shigaraki. That's just off the top of my head, I know there's probably more.

But you want to tell me that Uraraka getting stabbed and then moving was a fatal wound that required ALL TOGA'S BLOOD? ALL OF IT? The reason Toga's death bothers me is that the setup cheapens the actual moment of sacrifice. It feels preventable, so when she tells us that Uraraka is going to die without her blood, all I could do is roll my eyes because I'm not allowed to use critical thinking skills, I have to just accept what Hori says and take it at face value.

If the author wants you to live as Edgeworm despite saying you were gonna die, you can. But if the author needs a stab wound to be fatal and require ALL of someone's blood? Well tough luck bud, that's just how it goes. Mirko can run and move all she wants after having a limb ripped off, but moving a bit after one stab wound is fatal. Why? Because I say so.

If Uraraka's wound was actually serious then this ending would have been a beautiful tragedy. But as it stands now, the ridiculousness of her wound makes it all feel preventable.

Oh, there's also the fact that Toga switching blood types when she transforms was never established, but I've rambled enough.

That's it. Thanks for reading!

[tlgtw]

Bits and pieces of the still incredibly written backstory of Elden Ring continue to poke out from the dogwater, as it were.

St. Trina, as we learn, was a specific aspect of Miquella that was made separate: In Miquella's words, St Trina was the embodiment of his 'love.' And when he abandoned St Trina, he abandoned that aspect of himself that made her.

This newly introduced example reveals to us what the nature of Radagon's exactly was, in turn.

Radagon, the 'other half' of Marika in the exact same way that St Trina had been for Miquella, we learn here, had *himself* been a specific singular aspect of Marika's emotions or feelings.

With St Trina having been made out of Miquella's 'love.'

You wonder, too, what Radagon should have been made from.

What aspect of herself did Marika separate into her second person, as called by her the "Loyal Dog of the Golden Order"? We know Radagon was created prior to the creation of the Golden Order itself, since he was involved in the invasion of Liurnia.

So at the same time as Marika was married to Godfrey, begetting Godwyn and Mogh and Morgott. Radagon was married to Renalla, begetting Rykard and Radahn and raising the potential successor of Marika--the Empyrean Ranni. He was given a massive amount of responsibility, the seeming crux of the Liurnian-Leyndell alliance that ended the Liurnian Wars that Marika's empire was losing, and he by every account was completely dedicated and successful; even weakening the strength of the Carian royal family by reducing their practicing of astrology.

All yet, when push came to shove: After Godwyn was assassinated and Marika sought to destroy the Elden Ring. It was Radagon who dropped everything he had and stepped in to stop her.

"Proudly" as his Golden Order Greatsword says,

Radagon divorced his first wife, married his 'original self,' begettedthe Twin Prodigies Miquella and Malenia as two more potential successors to Queen Marika, set up the brutal inquisition and censorship of the Age of Radagon headed by his own son Rykard, and was even involved with the very the development of Golden Order fundamentalism!

Radagon did so much fucking stuff! He was so damn proactive! So what exactly must he have been!?

That Marika initially separated from herself? And who went on to try and stop her very own plans when they turned against the wishes of the Greater Will??

This conflicting 'half' of her original person! That nonetheless was all this strongly willed on his own!?

What part of Marika COULD Radagon have originally been!?!?!?

And it's awesome. It's really really well-designed writing.

Frankly, even, it's genius. It's not anything revolutionary in terms of narrative devices or anything like that, but it's really elegant. It's really meaningful and concise, and it's really cool!!!

A lot of Elden Ring's base game is, or now maybe--was. (It having been the basis of my entire show on YouTube.)

But the actual story, instead of solely the backstory, of the DLC, unfortunately, is not!

You ever seen a boss item whose entire description was literally entirely the game just fucking QUOTING ITSELF?

Hyetta at Frenzied Flame Proscription: "Become their lord. Take their torment, despair. Their affliction. Every sin, every curse. And melt it all away. As the Lord of Chaos."

Ghost outside Church of Inhibition in Liurnia: "Ahh, Lord Vyke, it seems that you were no lord, after all."

Midras's Flame of Frenzy, from killing Midras, Lord of Frenzied Flame:

Or! Better yet, ANOTHER boss spell, whose entire description is dedicated to literally just acknowledging its fucking colour!!

Land of Shadows, from killing the Scadutree Avatar:

I definitely sure wish I still hadn't!!

In fact, I don't think the level of vacuousness from Shadow of the Erdtree's descriptions has ever been seen before!

Not even in Dark Souls 3!!

AUGH

[darcydarlingdabbles]

Born to Survive (2/2)

part 2 of Astarion's Romance scene in act 1

part 1 link

Astarion x f!Tav (tiefling), Canon Compliant, Explicit af

4.2k

//This one tried to kill me. Smut, angst, comfort, oh my. Game accurate dialogue up to a point. CW: Good in bed, bad at emotions. Unhealthy...everything when it comes to sex/emotions. Bad communication?? But happy ending. This is the night with Tav that changes everything for Astarion.// Song Rec: The Death of Peace of Mind by Bad Omens

Astarion’s keen ears caught the moment Tav entered the moonlit clearing.

The vampire spawn felt the familiar prickling anticipation of the game he was about to play—a dance of manipulation and survival, dressed up in the silvery light. Where he could slip into the role he was created play. The seductive predator, dangerous and irresistible.

Yet, not so much as to forfeit her faith in him.

An unfamiliar flutter stirred within the pale elf. She was just another pawn in his web. Nothing was different just because he knew her name. And he should not be secretly happy that she would survive to see the sun rise tomorrow.

Astarion ignored the rush of his long since dead heart. This was self preservation; nothing more.

This yearning for anything else was dangerous as putting a stake in her hands.

He could not afford to care how she felt about him, beyond whether or not she would protect him.

Astarion removed his jacket methodically, folding it with deliberate care. As he pulled at the laces of his white shirt, memories came unbidden—clothing pooled around ankles, ripped away from his body, discarded like they weren’t all he had to his name.

Cazador’s mocking voice sneered in his mind. Reminding him of his place. On his knees. On his back. All he was good for.

He draped his folded shirt over a low branch, silencing the heartless laugh echoing in his memory as he slid on the mask he’d donned for centuries.

Astarion’s undead heart might as well b e made of stone. There was nothing left of him but the charm he cast.

“There you are.” Astarion greeted with the hint of a purr in his voice as he stepped from behind a towering oak with a smile already curving his lips.

He let his gaze rake appreciatively over Tav’s form, gratified when her eyes darted from his face to drink in his bared chest and down his body.

The blush on her cheeks when she was caught was just…delicious.

“I’ve been waiting, waiting since the moment I set eyes on you,” Astarion soothed, gliding closer. The moonlight caressed his alabaster skin, lending him an ethereal, almost ghostly beauty. 

At least, he hoped that was how he appeared, striking and seductive in the silver glow.

His prowl came to a stop merely inches from Tav, catching the hitch in her breath as she still hadn’t spoken. Thrilling him with how utterly captivated she was.

“Waiting…to have you.” he finished in a silken murmur, reaching a delicate hand to trail his cool fingers over her flushed cheek.

Suddenly, the tiefling’s eyes snapped up to meet his. Her body reanimated as she shifted from foot to foot with a slash of her tail.

“You sure, Astarion?” Tav asked, Her voice was a maddeningly gentle whisper, her brow creased with a vexing worry.

Why did she have to make this so damn difficult? Couldn’t she just enjoy what they both clearly wanted?

Instead Tav had to ask those weighted words, like she was trying disarm his every charm.

No.

He couldn’t let her pry her way under his flirtatious mask. Whatever broken, battered creature cowered behind his facade could not see the light of day. Astarion had a role to play. The lover Tav would do anything to protect.

His smile never wavered as he steered her away from anything more meaningful than their little dance now, until bairly a hair’s breadth separated their bodies.

“Don’t I have you?” he said with honey in his voice and want in his crimson eyes. “You’re here…and I don’t think you want to talk.”

Knowing her gaze was intent on him, Astarion let his focus drift down the curves of her body—taking in the way her tiefling tail betrayed her. Despite the worry on her brow, Tav’s arrant appendage curled at the tip in obvious interest.

Astarion’s charms were eroding even the hero’s defenses, as they should.

Tav’s full lips parted, and before she could voice another irritatingly perceptive question, Astarion wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling their bodies flush at last.

“I think you want to be known…to be tasted.” His breath ghosted across her skin.

Slowly, giving her time to pull away, he raised a hand to cup her cheek, caressing the fading puncture marks with his thumb.

Finally, Tav shivered at his touch. Her slit pupils went wide, and her tail curled fully to the small of her back. Just when he was about to taste her lips for the first time…she had to open her mouth.

“What do you want, Astarion?”

In his wretchedly long mockery of a life, no one had ever asked him that. No lover. No target. And certainly no master.

Why did Tav threaten to crack his facade with every damn word she said.

What did he want? Blood. Protection. Freedom. Safety.

Astarion sliced that thread before either of them could follow it too closely.

The vampire turned Tav’s head, breaking that too honest gaze, letting his lips brush her pointed ear instead. “What do any of us want? Pleasure. Yours, mine, our collective ecstasy.” He let each word drip with promise.

Her resistance finally melted away.

A smile graced that sweet mouth and her lithe form leaned into his. She reached for him at last, her hands coming to rest on his waist, and he could nearly sigh as the heat of her skin seeped into his perpetual chill.

Her touch was still too tentative for him.

Astarion captured her wrists in his long fingers, drawing her hands up along the sculpted planes of his chest to loop around his neck, ducking his head to tease his lips over hers. "

“That’s it. That’s what you want, isn’t it…to lose yourself in me?”

He wasn’t asking. It was what they always wanted. His touch. His attention. His body. All he was good for.

“Astarion…”

The vampire nearly gloated when she sighed his name—the noble tone was so weak under the want.

At last, Astarion had dragged the honorable Tav down to his level of depravity.

Her pulse thrummed wildly under his palms, betraying her at last. How badly she must want him. How he’d stripped away her suspicion and caution until only need remained.

“I thought so.” He purred with pure gratification.

Tav leaned up on her toes, pressing through the hands cupping her face, and closing the distance between their mouths.

Astarion had kissed countless lips in his time. Thousands of fleeting moments, rushed, careless, clashing, teeth and tongues.

Tav’s kiss was nothing like that.

It was warm, reverent in a way Astarion knew he did not deserve, even as he slid easily into the motions. Trying to bury her tenderness in wanton desire.

But then, Tav leaned into his palm, nuzzling her cheek into his hand, pointed fingers threading through his.

And it was such an artless, intimate gesture that suddenly threatened to choke him.

Desperate to quash this unnamed feeling before it could take root—Astarion claimed Tav’s mouth in a searing kiss. Biting her bottom lip to banish any sweetness she gave.

…

Tav could feel her pulse fluttering in her ears as Astarion caressed her every curve with effortless grace. His lips felt like they were everywhere, and his skilled tongue stoked a delicious heat within the tiefling.

She was lost to every delicate touch. His nimble fingers deftly undid the laces of her bodice, unhooking the fastenings of her trousers.

Tav hardly noticed until he was pulling her to step out of the puddle of her clothes to be pulled into the hard line of his body against hers.

His elegance was unmatched to any lover she’d had. They hardly needed to exchange—and Astarion seemed disinclined to speak at all as he lavished attention down her neck and her collarbones with his perfect mouth.

Tav was desperate. Not just for more skin-tingling touches, but to return some of the bliss he bestowed on her.

Her fingers grasped at Astarion’s silken hair, catching him for a moment so she could leave her own kisses along the chiseled line of his jaw, down the pale column of his neck.

The vampire’s throat went motionless under her mouth the lower she went. Of course, she didn’t expect to feel a fluttering pulse, but it was like he’d forgotten to breathe. Had passion erased his pretense of needing air?

Tav just wondered this as her lips reached the twin scars on his neck—and Astarion went rigid.

Her heart seized.

She overstepped, maybe reminded him of his painful past, and she had to apologize.

The words were already on her tongue, when he caught her by the chin and pulled her back.

“As much as I enjoy your affections, darling,” he purred, ruby eyes gleaming wickedly, “I have much better plans for that sweet mouth of yours.”

Then he was kissing her again, deeply, ardently. Tav whined as the points of his fangs grazed her bottom lip, sending licks of fire through her veins. He knew exactly what he was doing as he ravished her, and  her awkwardness forgotten as he tried to drown her in arousal.

Nothing existed but Astarion’s clever hands, his sinful lips, and the delicious ache building between her thighs.

The awkwardness of the moment was forgotten as she clung to him. Nothing compared to the intensity of being the focus of Astarions attention. She felt ravished before he even stooped to wrap her legs around his waist, but he barely broke their kiss.

Tav eagerly complied, locking her arms around his shoulders, careful of his neck, though curling her quivering tail around his torso too.

Astarion pressed her into the rough bark of a nearby tree, his hands digging possessively into her thighs.

She couldn’t help the giggle that escaped her. She was giddy with arousal, slicker still as she felt the hard length of his cock just press against her.

Gods, she needed him inside her.

“Playful little tiefling.” Astarion murmured appreciatively, his voice like dark velvet against her ear.

Tav giggled again, giving a deliberate twitch of her tail. “Well, biting is basically foreplay for my kind,” she teased, fingers threading through his curls, careful of the points of her nails as she murmured against his lips. “I shoulda warned ya, before that first little nibble by the campfire.”

If their bodies weren't so closely interlaced, their noses gently grazing each other as Astarion teasingly ground his hips into hers, stirring her eagerness for the forthcoming fervor, she may have missed the swift flicker of emotion that danced across Astarion's handsome face.

Uncertainty. Discomfort even…at being bitten? That made sense he would be cautious of the reminder—but the expression was gone in a blink. Replaced with a roguish grin.

“Is that so? Then you’ve already surrendered yourself to me.”

Oh, how damn cocky could a man be?

Sure, he was turning her to a mess just rutting against her. But Tav arched a brow. “I can’t just…let you win.”

The tiefling simpered, even as she tilted her head to the side, baring the tantalizing line of her throat. Showing off the fading bite.

That bright ruby gaze darkened, rivited, zeroed in on her fluttering pulse. He leaned in, fangs bared, as she slid her tail away from him.

In flick of her tail, Tav leveraged herself off of the tree, sending them both tumbling into the soft grass.

She landed atop him, legs caging his hips, grinning at his startled expression.

“Gotcha.”

To Tav’s surprise and delight, a warm and genuine laugh burst from Astarion’s lips. His eyes sparkled with an inner light, bright and unreserved in a way she’d never seen from him before. Tav was transfixed by just the glimpse of raw, unguarded emotion on his face.

The spell couldn’t last forever.

Astarion’s hands seized her hips, using his vampiric strength and speed to flip Tav onto her back, pinning her into the grass.

Her air escaped in a huff as he captured her wrists and pressed them into the ground, rendering her wonderfully helpless.

“Alright, alright, I yield!” Tav laughed breathlessly, squirming only half-heartedly in his stone grip. “You win.”

Still smiling, she tipped her head back, baring her throat in surrender—eliciting a low, greedy sound from Astarion. This time, he did not hesitate.

Hot, stinging pleasure burst through her blood as the vampire’s fangs sank into her skin. She shivered, happily helpless, under the icy ecstasy of his bite. His body leaned heavily and perfectly into the cradle of hers.

His long fingers came around to cushion her head, just as the first night he fed from her. Tav hardly noticed when Astarion released her wrists, other than she could dreamily slide her fingers into his white curls. On instinct, she brushed the pads of her thumbs along the tender points of his ears.

Astarion startled in her hold.

A blissful sound echoed against her throat, and the twin points of pain disappeared as his focus wavered. He pulled back from her, crimson lingering on his lips.

“Elves and their ears.” Tav answered his unasked question, repeating the gentle stroke to prove her point, gratified when he was the one to give a shudder. “Shall I stop?”

“Don’t you dare,” Astarion growled playfully, before diving back down to reclaim her lips. She teased his gorgeous ears as long as he would allow, before he seemed to remember himself—and pulled back with a darker gaze.

“Let me show you my favorite trick.” He purred, kissing a trail down her heated body. Lavishing attention on her breasts before settling between her thighs like he belonged there.

His strong, elegant hands curled under her hips, lifting her soaking folds to his wickedly talented tongue.

The first stroke across her clit had Tav arching with a cry, sparks igniting behind her eyelids. Astarion was relentless, laving and suckling with single-minded focus, devouring her pussy like he hungered for nothing else. His clever fingers slid into her, thrusting and curling with unerring accuracy.

He was overwhelming in the most delightful way.

“Astarion,” Tav gasped, half a sob in her throat. Her fingers tangled in his hair. Pleasure was building inside her like a cresting wave until she thought she might shatter from it. 

Just as the peak crashed over her, Tav’s tail curled adoringly around Astarion’s arm, the spaded tip digging into his bicep. Astarion groaned against her, the sound reverberating through her pussy—until she was trembling in the grass.

“Darling…I am not finished with you yet.” his breath was panting against his thigh, his lips shining with her slick in the moonlight.

His eyes burned into hers as he lowered his mouth back to her, drawing a feral whimper from her mouth. He worked her through the aftershocks with his lips and mouth and the edge of his teeth—then built her back up again, drawing every ounce of pleasure from the tiefling’s body until she was left boneless and blissed out.

By the time Tav found her voice again, she’d lost count of how many times he’d made her come. 

“Astarion,” she rasped. “Please. I need you.”

In a flash, he was over her, the blunt head of his cock nudging against her entrance. 

“I thought you’d never ask,” he said with that damnable roguish grin.

Then he was sliding into her, hard and thick and perfect, and Tav could only hang on as he took her apart all over again. She was so sensitive, the pleasure bordering on pain, that it only took a few deep strokes before she was clenching around him, keening her release.

Astarion swallowed the sound with his mouth, kissing her deeply as he continued to move within her. Tav felt owned, treasured, utterly consumed by the brilliant creature in her arms. In that moment, she would have happily let him devour her whole.

…

Astarion thrust into her with smooth, measured strokes, the perfect rhythm to draw out her satisfaction. His face was buried in the crook of her neck as he murmured filthy praises against her skin, just as he was supposed to.

“You are so terribly intoxicating, my love. So perfectly wrapped around me. Like you were made just to undo me.”

Tav was a mess under him, her careful words lost to the sensation of him moving inside her. Her limbs tangled around him and she tried to pull him down for a kiss.

Astarion evaded her lips, lavishing attention on her throat instead. Letting his mind slip away again.

It wasn’t long before she was clenching around him again, shuddering through another intense climax. Astarion worked her through it, then gradually slowed his pace. When Tav finally resurfaced, sated and pliant in his arms.

Just where he needed her to be.

“Fuck,” she sighed, pressing the heel of her palm over her eyes as she still caught her breath. He slid from her still quivering body, though she still clung to him with her curled tail.

“I shall take that as a compliment.” He chuckled at her side, pressing his lips to the skin before her ear.

“Astarion, did you…?”

The vampire tensed almost imperceptibly before pulling back to look at her, a practiced smile curving his lips. 

“I was, concentrating…you had me captivated, darling.” He glossed over. It was easy to ignore his own ache, and most of his conquests were happy to let him. “Brilliant, beautiful thing you are.”

Astarion eased, pressing her back into the grass. He sat up, resting on his bent knee, as he let himself detachment from the moment.

Tav's frown caught his attention as she studied him from where she was still laid back in the moonlit grass. “Hey, is everything okay? I want to make you feel good, too.”

Her words took him by surprise. Make him feel good? That simply didn’t factor into any script he played in someone else’s bed.

His mouth opened and closed in silent confusion before he shook off the disorientation.

"I...no, everything’s fine. Wonderful, in fact. You’ve been perfect, darling," he responded smoothly. Astarion couldn’t pull his mask into place. Weak, vulnerable, aching—confused as to what he should do next.

But there was no dungeon to draw her towards. No master to turn her over to. Tav was not a target. What was he meant to do?

Astarion laid back, wondering if he should feign exhaustion. Until Tav fell asleep and he could slip away.

With a gentle smile, and a little unsteady as she rose, Tav slid her hands up Astarion’s chest to frame his face. “Let me concentrate on you now,” she murmured, shifting until she was straddling his hips again.

He clung to her waist on instinct, but didn’t grip hard enough to stop her from moving over him.

“Is that alright, Astarion?”

She kept saying his name, drawing his eyes back to hers, to the want in hers that was more than want.

The warmth was overwhelming.

“Yes,” He agreed, hearing his own breathless assent. Telling himself it was just to be relieved of that adoring look in her eyes.

Tav drew him along her palm, sinking down on his hardness inch by heavenly inch. 

Astarion gasped gently. For once, he seemed at a loss for words, ruby eyes wide and locked on hers as she began to move.

Undulating slowly, Tav leaned in to capture his lips, kissing him deeply, reverently. 

His own mouth was…hesitant. The way she kissed him, the way she kissed, the way she moved, dragged that unbidden yearning from somewhere deep inside him.

Like his first taste of her neck, something about this felt forbidden. Too rich for his blood.

But then Astarion was kissing Tav back feverishly, sitting up to tangle one hand in her hair to hold her close. Like he was starving all over again.

Tav kept the pace languid, letting Astarion savor every slide and press, her pussy quivering around him still. He’d thought he’d worn her out so thoroughly—but she persisted.

She peppered kisses across his angular cheekbones, the corner of his mouth, his temples. Astarion shuddered beneath her, a soft whimper escaping him as she rolled her hips just so.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” Tav crooned. “Just feel. Let go for me.”

Time seemed to slip from him yet again—but he felt every breath against his lips, her forehead pressed to his with agonizing sweetness. Her fingers curled into the hair at the base of his neck, and he clung to her in turn.

Astarion felt his body stiffen involuntarily, a flicker of apprehension. His armor trying to snap back into place, one last ditch attempt to wall him off.

“Tav…” his voice was a broken plea.

Her relentless warmth ceased every vulnerability in him. Her arms wrapped around him, shielding out the rest of the world, the rest of his thoughts.

Those damnable eyes with unwavering affection as they locked onto his.

"I've got you," Tav murmured with a fervor that echoed through him. "You're so good, Astarion."

Her words sent him spiraling into the abyss with a ragged gasp as his climax washed over him, spilling deep within her.

Astarion could feel her arms drawing him closer, her fingers threading through his curls and whispering praises and reassurances that seeped into his dead marrow.

He clung to her desperately, hiding himself in the crook of her neck as he was the one to tremble.

In this moment, stripped bare of all pretenses and disguises he wore. All Astarion could do was cling tighter to Tav, hoping that she could feel even a sliver of the affection and reverence that burned within him.

Astarion watched her as she lay back, unable to rip his eyes away or compose his face in to something prettier.

She laughed breathlessly, but the elf remained still, waiting. Bracing himself for the inevitable withdrawal, for her warmth to leave him bereft and alone once more.

That part of the script was surely still intact.

They took their pleasure, then cast him aside. Or worse.

But Tav did neither.

She nestled close, resting her head on his chest with a contented sigh. Astarion glanced down at her, watching the way her fingers idly traced invisible patterns on his cool skin. The casual intimacy of it made his throat tighten.

After a moment, Tav lifted her gaze to his, a playful smile curving her kiss-swollen lips. “Not much for cuddling after?” she teased gently, but she was already lifting herself off of him.

Astarion huffed a laugh, hoping it masked the confused tangle of emotions her tenderness evoked. “It’s not exactly my forte.” 

He should be using his glib charm to get them back to camp, saying they should get some sleep. But with Tav...he hesitated. Loath to break this fragile, unfamiliar spell between them. 

As if sensing his inner turmoil, Tav shifted to lay her head in the grass beside him, relinquishing her claim on his space.

But as her warmth and weight left him, Astarion felt strangely bereft. Unmoored. His hand darted out to catch hers, lacing their fingers together as he turned to face her.

Tav’s ever-radiant smile dawned across her face. She squeezed his hand gently, like it was the most precious thing she’d ever held. “This okay?” she asked softly.

Slowly, deliberately, she brought his knuckles to her lips, pressing a lingering kiss to the back of his hand. Like he was the prey she feared startling.

Tav slid their joined hands up to rest over Astarion’s still heart, her expression open and tender in a way that made his breath catch.

Astarion swallowed hard to gain even a tenuous control. “More than,” he managed, voice rough with everything he couldn’t quite say.

Tav smiled at him, and those bright eyes held nothing—no guile, no ulterior motive. Only affection and a hint of something that looked dangerously close to…adoration.

It terrified him even as some long-dormant part of his soul ached for more.

“Good,” he breathed at last, barely recognizing his own voice.

As he slid his arm around Tav’s shoulders, pulling her back to his chest beneath the star-strewn sky, a sudden realization hit him with the force of a charging bulette.

In all his long existence, he had never spent the night with a lover. Had never wanted to. But now, with Tav a warm, trusting weight in his arms, he found himself hoping desperately that this wouldn’t be the last time.

There would be time to figure this out later, he told himself. To untangle the confusing snarl of warmth and want and unspoken yearning twisting beneath his ribs. 

And yet, as Tav’s breathing gradually slowed and deepened with the onset of sleep, Astarion discovered that there was nowhere in all the realms he’d rather be.

Perhaps, just this once, he could let himself have this. Could dare to imagine a future beyond mere survival.

[mywitchyblog]

I just wanted to say your takes on age and shifting have been really helping me. I didn't have the opportunity to enjoy my teenage years and I feel like everything is falling apart in my adult life, so I really want to age myself down and experience life as a teen again. However, tiktok constantly made me feel like a creep and I was even starting to doubt myself and my motivations, which is crazy. So thank you for standing your ground and having our back lol and stay away from shiftok yall

AS.YOU.FUCKING.SHOULD.

Girl, keeping your distance from ShiftTok? Absolutely the right call. That place is less of a community and more of a cult with a superiority complex, stuffed with self-appointed “moral guardians” who’d rather police everyone’s shifting practices than actually understand a damn thing about shifting itself 💅. They’re too busy gatekeeping, throwing their tired opinions around, and stirring up drama to realize just how hypocritical they look. Chile, the irony is thick enough to choke on, and trust, we see it 👀.

And don’t even get me started on the anti-age-change crew. These people couldn’t argue their way out of a paper bag without leaning on the same three tired-as-hell logical fallacies, dragging them out every time to keep shifters in check without an ounce of actual understanding or empathy.

Ad Hominem – This is anti-age changers’ go-to move when they’re out of actual arguments. They skip right over any real discussion and dive into calling people “pedo” or “creep” just to shut them up. Rather than taking the time to understand why someone might genuinely want to experience being younger again, they grab for the ugliest insults they can think of and throw them like confetti 🎉… only it’s confetti made of trash 💀. Example: A shifter explains, “I age down in my Desired Reality because I had a tough youth and want to relive a better version of it. Plus, I want to experience a healthy, innocent romance from my teenage years.” But instead of even thinking about the idea that there might be something healing and meaningful in that, here comes an anti-age changer with: “If you want to age down to date, you’re a predator—plain and simple.” Here’s the kicker: these critics don’t care about the reasons. They’ll weaponize shame to make shifters look like villains, ignoring the fact that not everyone who age-shifts and dates does it for predatory reasons. Many want to experience that sweet, teenage love they didn’t get in this reality, to relive the simpler emotions of that time without adult complications. But the anti’s? They’d rather throw accusations than try to understand even a sliver of the truth. They’re using the “pedo” card because they know it’ll silence some people, and honey, it’s a sad attempt at control through fear 🙄.

Straw Man Fallacy – Here’s where things get especially messy 🥴. Instead of listening to what you’re actually saying, they twist it into something completely off-base, creating a fake argument to attack. They don’t want to engage with your actual reasons; they’d rather paint you as something you’re not so they can feel good about their so-called “moral high ground.” 🙄Example: Imagine a shifter saying, “I age down because I missed out on a carefree youth and want to date someone my age in that reality. I want to experience young love in a non-sexual, simple way.” The anti immediately twists this into, “Oh, so you’re saying you’re an adult wanting to act like a teenager to date kids? That’s sick.” See the problem? They’re creating a whole new argument based on something you never said. This shifter just wants a clean, innocent experience of being young again, complete with those little flutters and first dates that only make sense at that age. Some shifters may even explore young relationships with some intimacy, but it’s coming from a place of reliving a time they missed—not about attraction to minors or anything predatory. These critics twist the intention, making it sound like a fetish when it’s about pure curiosity, nostalgia, or healing. They’ve crafted their own horror story and are trying to pin it on you 👑, and honestly? It’s lazy, transparent, and completely off the mark.

Hasty Generalization – This is when anti-age changers pull out the big, sloppy brush and slap the same, tired accusation onto every age-changing shifter. Because they’ve heard one example of someone age-shifting for sketchy reasons, they assume everyone who does it must have some secret, shady agenda. Girl, the logic isn’t even there 🤦‍♀️.Example: Anti-age changers will say, “Oh, I heard about this one person who aged down to act out some weird fantasy, so clearly all shifters who age down to date are predators.”This is their way of weaponizing a single, extreme case to invalidate every other shifter’s unique, personal reasons. There are countless reasons people age down and engage in romance, and most have nothing to do with predatory behavior. Imagine someone who wants to experience a first crush all over again, or who never got a chance to date as a teen and just wants that innocent thrill of hand-holding and kissing at a school dance 🕺💃. Some might even explore sexual intimacy because, for them, it’s about curiosity and filling in experiences they missed—not some twisted attraction.Let’s get real: most age-changing shifters just want to feel what it’s like to be young again, to make memories that heal, to have those butterflies and firsts they missed out on. The antis are so obsessed with scandalizing that they can’t imagine a reality where someone wants to age down without any creepy motives. This broad-strokes accusation is not only unfair; it’s lazy as hell. It paints every age-changing shifter with the same brush, and it does nothing but create stigma and misinformation. Like… maybe sit down and breathe for a second instead of trying to stir up a scandal? 😒

Here’s the reality: these fallacies are tools they use to twist, shame, and silence. They’re not here to have a real conversation about why someone might age-shift or date in that reality, or to understand that those desires can come from totally normal, even therapeutic places. They’re here to make it sound twisted, full stop.

The next time they pull out these tired arguments, just remember: they’re not about facts, they’re about control. They use moral panic as a blunt weapon, hoping people won’t look closer and see right through their paper-thin accusations. Keep doing you, stay fierce 🔥, and don’t let their fallacies dull your shine.