#under cloudy conditions

[ssaraexposs]

Bungo Stray Dogs // SHIN SOUKOKU // Episode 24

[thoughtssvt]

suguru conditioned you to get wet every time he tied his hair up.

over the years he got into the habit of letting his hair relax. he wore it down with the new found confidence that came from your compliments and 'hey handsome's.

the only time he wore his hair in a bun was when he was shirtless between your legs.

if there was one thing he hated it was getting interrupted while he ate. he could allow his hair getting in the way when he was kissing you, holding you close. he liked the feeling of your fingers running across his scalp. he especially liked the tug you gave it when he sucked your nipple into his mouth, tongue laving and circling. a chuckle buzzing through his lips as you arched up into him.

that he could handle, but once he was face to face with your pussy he wouldn't allow it. he'd sit back on his haunches, skillfully gathering his hair into his palms with his thumbs. maybe it was just something about the way he looked down at you, carnally, ready to devour you with no restraint. maybe it was the way you knew he would do just that like he'd done so many times before.

he would run his hands up and down your thighs once his arms dropped to his sides. he'd leave soft kisses against your knee, guiding them down as he laid on his front. if your head wasn't so cloudy you would whine at the shit-eating smirk he wore as he looked at your glistening cunt.

"i haven't done much and you're already this wet?" he'd chuckle softly, so close to your skin that it felt like love wiring running under your skin, your hips bucking up into him. he'd hush you, reassure you that he'd give you everything you needed as he kissed just right above your twitching button.

"always so needy," he commented leaving open mouthed kisses on your outer lips, and though it was meant to come off snarky you couldn't help but keen like it was praise.

the first lick was always mind numbing. you held your breath as you felt his thumbs spread you open, watching his eyes flutter closed as he guided a flat tongue between your folds, the muscle giving your clit a gentle flick before he sucked it into his mouth. it was then you let your breath go, a whiny moan forcing it out.

"mmm," he hummed around you making your legs snap around his head as it shot pleasure down to your toes. "ah, ah, don't interrupt me while i eat, honey," he scolded softly, large hands prying your legs open so he could spread you up and open, pushing your knees to your chest so he could feast uninterrupted.

maybe it was better he kept his hair up despite how much you liked to tug on it. it let him focus in on your pleasure. he took his time, each move slow and calculated. he knew exactly what made your legs shake and what to do when he wanted you to suck in a deep breath, hands shooting up to the sides of your head to grip your pillow for stability.

he'd lightly scrape his nails against the sensitive skin of your thighs as he switched between slow, broad stripes against your clit to lip-bitingly quick flicks with the tip of his tongue. he'd bob his head, the gentle suck on your bud a tantalizing combo with the way the muscle swirled around it.

"so good, can't get enough of you," he'd sigh as he dropped down to your hole, gently kissing your clenching entrance before pushing his tongue in as deep it could go. he moaned at the way you twitched around him, hot and wet on his tongue.

he'd reach a hand up so his thumb could toy with your clit as he drank down your juices, steadily tongue-fucking you until your climax.

when you got your vision back there he was again, looking down at you with carnal desire, biceps bulging as he scooped his hair up into a secure bun once more, because he was definitely far from done with you.

A/N : i may have gotten carried away, i was about to go to sleep... and this was so not planned, I was supposed to write cute headcanons of how the jjk men start your apples for you. anyway I hope you enjoyed, reblogs and comments are always appreciated

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[wandasfavv]

Getting Closer

Wanda x Fem!Reader

Summary: After finally indulging in a relationship with your stepmom, you found yourself in more situations involving Wanda’s careless behavior such as her secretly fucking you as your father’s in the same room.

Part 1(Make You Mine)

Word count: 2.5k

Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI. Stepmom!Wanda x fem!reader, slight non/con, strap on(r receiving), strapwarming, fingers in mouth, RISKYYY sex, angry sex??, daddy issues, and mommy kink bc she’s just sooo, also kinda angsty/fluffy at the end

It’s been a couple weeks since your first time with Wanda. And ever since then, she had become a bit more clingy than expected. Actually more than clingy, just completely obsessed with you.

Almost every night Wanda came to your room, fucking you to relieve herself of both the sexual frustration from you and just the frustration from your father. The two haven’t been getting along at all, only having arguments every day even if they were over little things. Wanda couldn’t even bear sleeping with him, and just used the couch downstairs in the living room as a cover up of where she actually slept, your bed.

Not that you mind though. It was actually one of the best things that happened to you as you didn’t think your father was ever worthy of having such an endearing and beautiful wife like Wanda. She was the only person who actually cared for your well being, truth be told. Unlike your dad, she didn’t dismiss your feelings, always looking out for when you acted unusual and making sure there was something she could do to fix it. Her whole world and worries were about you, only you. Her sweet nature only got to the point where you questioned yourself, if you’d possibly fallen in love with her.

———————-

Around 5pm Wanda called you out to the living room, seemingly planned something. She was sat in the armchair, one of those sofas that would only fit for one. You walked towards her curiously, asking “You called?”

“Yeah, you wanna watch a movie with me?” She replied quickly with a charming smile, the one you grew even weaker for. Glancing at the tv screen, it displayed a familiar movie from the collection of DvDs you grew up watching. You figured it’d be fine to spend some time with her, noticing the need to be close to you she showed too. Though strangely, she had a blanket covering her lap despite the hotter conditioning within the house.

“Um, sure,” You said, moving to sit on her lap as she patted and gestured you to sit there, something that was considered normal as you’ve done it many times before now. However, as you sat down you felt something hard poking your thighs. Your head turned to look back at her questionably, your eyebrows furrowed. “Wanda..?”

In response, she only smirked and moved her hands to your waist, pulling you back to push her front against your body. You let out a small gasp upon feeling her breasts pressed up on your back and as the lead-up happened all so quickly. “I need you really bad today, sweetie.” She said, her voice low in your ear. She moved one hand down to roughly tug down the blanket out and from under you, revealing the toy she hid. It was a large strap on that she had used on you before, though you’ve never taken the whole thing before. The deep red of it was an appealing color to Wanda’s character, and you thoroughly found it arousing to see her with it.

The toy was then in between your thighs, slightly pressed up against your clothed center. “Could you be a dear and help mommy out?” She asked you as her hand squeezed your side, her control already leaving her like always.

You shyly nodded as her soft tone made your head feel cloudy, reaching for the waistband of your shorts and underwear to pull them down once you stood up a bit. Wanda assisted you in doing so, and quickly pulled them down because she just desperately wanted to get straight to the point. She positioned the strap to align with your entrance, already finding you wet. Once the tip was in, she got ahold of your waist again, carefully lowering you down on the big shaft.

“I’ll go slow, don’t worry,” Wanda reassured you. There was small whine that left your mouth as it barely fit and got halfway. She shushed you, rubbing your sides in the hopes that you’d relax more. Still, as she kept pushing you down, tears quickly built up and your hands found their way to Wanda’s thighs under you, squeezing tightly. A loud whimper came out as your breathing also quickened. “I know, I know baby, it’s big. Just breathe in and out.”

You knew Wanda always made sure you were okay before doing something, but she was at times an impatient woman. Ergo, leading to her unexpectedly force you down fully. You yelped and had a tighter grip on her, though not strong enough to hurt her. Your legs kicked a bit helplessly as you were stuck with her inside and buried in you to the brim. Another whine left your throat, “Mommy…”

“It’s okay, I won’t move. I just want you to sit on mommy’s cock for a little while, okay? Just focus on the tv, sweetie,” Wanda responded, her voice sounding sickly sweet. She lifted her hand to your cheek, turning your head to face forward instead of her. Her eyes trailed your body, noticing the hardening nipples showing through the shirt you were wearing. One hand went under the fabric, creeping up to aggressively grope your chest, only making you moan as you began to focus on that instead of the bruising feeling within your cunt.

She kept this up for about half an hour, teasing your body and making you drenched around her cock. As time passed, you grew needier and eager for her to move, but she showed no signs of wanting to. You shifted bit in her lap, biting your inner cheek as the toy hit a spot that made you quietly moan. Wanda of course witnessed the entire thing, not paying a single ounce of her attention on the screen in front of her, only her favorite girl. She smirked at your desperation beginning to show, and only stopped you as her hands tightly held you still. “What did I say? Focus on the movie.”

“But I-“

The sound of the front door alerted you two and stopped you from continuing. Both you and Wanda turned to the direction of it, only to hear the familiar noise of your father barging in. Panicking, you tried to lift yourself up. However, Wanda had other plans as she kept her hold on you, giving you a look of authority to keep you from moving. Despite his unexpected return, Wanda was awfully calm, like she didn’t even care if you’d get caught getting fucked by his wife.

The footsteps were getting closer, making you sweat nervously as you stared between Wanda and where the hallway met the living room.

“Hey, is Wanda here?” Your father asked, seeing your head positioned slightly above the headrest of the armchair once he came into view. Considering the size of the chair and the way it was positioned, you guessed that Wanda wasn’t visible in his perspective. You turned your body a bit and moved your head to where the back of the chair didn’t block your eyes, resting an elbow on the armrest as you looked behind at him.

“I-“ you felt a small yet effective upward movement of Wanda’s hips that caused you to bite your lip hard, causing it to slowly bleed out. Any feeling of her moving inside your sensitive walls made you see stars. Your father looked at you, confused at the sudden pause. Wanda held a smug look on her face as her hands were on your waist, and noticing how you weren’t responding quick enough, she dug her nails into your skin. The action made you surprised and stutter out an answer to him, trying your best to ignore the pain and pleasure that came from the woman underneath you. “S-She’s probably out buying groceries.”

He only responded with a silent nod, no longer looking at you and focusing on searching for something from his pocket. Confused on why he was even home at this time, you asked “What are you doing here anyway? S-Shouldn’t you be at work..?”

Your father still wasn’t looking at you as he patted down his jacket. “Uh yeah I got off work early… but I think I have to go back. I forgot my wallet,”he said, sighing loudly as he didn’t find it anywhere.

“You should probably go then…” you said, a noticeable quiver in your voice. Wanda still kept thrusting gently into you, the entire thing going in and out. You looked down at her face for second which showed a pleasured and teasing look as her eyes zeroed in on how you were taking it. Your lip was also still trapped between your teeth, and you tasted metal off the tip of your tongue.

“Alright, I’ll be back later then. Make sure Wanda starts dinner, I’m starving.”

That last comment made Wanda thrust inside your cunt brutally. A whimper escaped as you immediately put a hand on her shoulder and squeezed it hard enough to make her stop. Her face then showed irritation and annoyance, staring off to the side. Luckily your father’s ears seemed to lack hearing, something you noticed as he hadn’t questioned the screaming coming from your room every night at all. He quickly left the house, leaving you stuck on top of his wife who he aggravated.

Out of nowhere, she brought her hands down to your ass, lifting you up from her strap. As you shakily stood, it allowed Wanda to drag you to the longer couch, pushing you down on it so you laid and faced upward. She took the hem of your shirt before pulling it off you in a careless manner.

“God, I’m so fucking sick of him…” she said, her voice deep and raspy as her eyes happened to have darken. Her hand took the toy and positioned it back to your pussy, only this time pushing in swiftly and roughly. You cried out and winced at the feeling of being stretched again, gripping onto the soft cushions underneath you. Wanda set off a fast pace and slammed into you without any remorse.

“W-Wanda slow down- please,” you begged, tears beginning to form once again. Wanda only ignored the plea, holding up your thighs from underneath and pushing them up against your chest to get better access. Your mouth fell open, moans spilling as the pain quickly faded into something pleasurable. You shut your eyes, letting Wanda take all her frustrations out on you now. Your orgasm was soon just seconds away, already built up from warming her cock earlier.

“There you go, cum for mommy,” she said, panting heavily as she continued the forceful thrusts and felt your walls tightening around the strap. Once her words registered, you came and let out noises you didn’t even know were possible out of your mouth. Wanda fucked you through it, letting you ride out your orgasm, but not letting up and making you build up to a second. You cried out again for her to stop, reaching out with one hand to push against her pelvis in attempt.

“Shh… you can take it,” she spoke, smiling sadistically down at you as tears kept falling. You shook your head no repeatedly and vigorously. Your noises and crying didn’t stop either, so to silence it, Wanda took two fingers and shoved them into your already gaping mouth, shutting you up. “Uh huh… so much better when you’re quiet and letting me have my way.”

You whined around her fingers, causing her to only push them deeper and making you gag. Finding it hot, she kept pushing her fingers back in and out, loving the way you choked on her thin yet long digits. It followed a similar pace as her hips, and this time she was pounding you into the couch. “Fuck, you love it when I stuff your holes like this huh? Filled up with all of me?”

Lost in your mind, you now nodded desperately feeling her beginning to hit your g spot over and over again. Drool leaked around Wanda’s fingers and your mouth, following the tears that layered your cheeks. She was feral at the sight of that and it only pushed her to fuck into you deeper and harder. Now coming closer to another orgasm, you whimpered aloud and gripped the wrist of Wanda’s hand that was near your mouth.

Your body shook tremendously once your climax hits you hard, more than the first. Wanda’s fingers left your mouth, a string of saliva following. And her movements continued, but a lot slower thankfully. Still, the overstimulation was overwhelming. “M-Mommy too much, I can’t…” you helplessly said as your voice was shriveled and weak. She had a small upward curve of her lips due to your adorableness from the aftershocks of an orgasm, then soon coming to a halt. She slowly pulled out, watching your pussy leave a mess as it leaked onto the couch.

Fighting the urge to just put her cock back in and fuck you stupid again, she breathed out heavily and took the strap off. Wanda leaned down to give you a kiss, a meaningful one as it lasted longer than most. “You’re so perfect baby… did so good for me. I’m so proud of you.” She whispered against your ear once you sat up slowly and against her chest with her help. It was already sore in different parts of your body, but especially your abused center and bruised thigh. Wanda wiped off the wet spots on your face, softly cradling the back of your head. “You okay?”

“Mhm…” you hummed in response, nodding slowly. She smiled cutely at you, now no longer thinking of anything else. She placed light feather kisses all around your face, causing you to also smile at her adoring aftercare.

“Good,” she said softly as her fingers ran through your hair. Her other arm wrapped around your body, pulling you into her more once she leaned back on the couch. Your head laid peacefully against her within this moment of silence. You then looked up from her neck to see her already looking down at you with a blush on her face along with her eyebrows knitted together forming small wrinkles between. It was like she wanted to tell you something, and knowing her, it was, because she always looked at you with that same expression when she felt vulnerable around you.

“I love you.”

The words that came from her mouth weren’t exactly unanticipated but you were still surprised. Butterflies erupted in your stomach and your face became a darker shade as well, matching the warm cheeks that Wanda had. She looked at you nervously as you took time to respond, not sure if it was too soon after the session.

“I love you too,” you replied, gazing up at her lovingly. She raised her eyebrows in surprise at your response, the overthinking and insecurities preventing her from expecting the answer she wished for. A grin grew on her face once she saw your cute expression. She cupped your face, pulling you into another deep kiss.

“I wish I met you sooner,” she whispered between kisses, thinking about how different it could’ve been without your father in the picture. You smiled, yet inwardly frowned at her words, finding them true as they proved the reality you created in your head false. That maybe you weren’t able to keep whatever this relationship was up in spite of the love you shared.

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Hi, sorry to bother and sorry if this is too much, but I was wondering if you had anything to help write a character dying of an infected gunshot wound? Love ur acc btw 💓

Writing Notes: Infected Gunshot Wound

It will take some time for a gunshot wound to heal.

The length of time depends on the person's health and how serious the wound is.

The bullet may have broken a bone or caused a lot of damage to muscles, organs, or nerves.

The bullet may also have been left in the body because getting it out would have caused the person more harm.

Some signs of infection:

Redness or swelling around the wound

A lot of blood or pus coming from the wound

Foul odor

Fever of 100.4°F (38°C) or higher, or as directed by provider

It's normal to feel some stress and anxiety after a traumatic event like a gunshot wound. You may write about your character feeling anxious, angry, or depressed or having trouble sleeping or focusing. The following may also occur.

Wound continues to bleed even after putting direct pressure on it

For chest, back, or abdomen wounds:

Shortness of breath

Painful breathing

Back or abdomen pain that gets worse

Weakness

Dizziness or fainting

Redness, swelling, or fluid leaking from your wound that gets worse

Pain that gets worse

Symptoms that don’t get better, or get worse

New symptoms

Signs of Wound Infection

Pus: Medical professionals manage healthy drainage with regular dressings. But cloudy, yellowish drainage or purulent discharge with a pungent or foul odor accompanied with swelling and elevated pain is a sign of an infected wound.

Pimple: When a pimple-like crust forms on an injury, it indicates an infection. This pimple increases in size over time.

Soft Scab: While it is normal to have slightly pink or reddish skin around the injury, a scab that constantly increases in size over time could indicate an infection.

Red Area: In the initial stages, wounds appear red due to the natural healing process. But if the red area around the injured site continues to increase even after 4-5 days of an injury, it is a telltale sign of an infected wound.

Red Streak: If a red streak starts forming from the injured site towards the heart, it could be lymphangitis (inflammation of the lymphatic system). This underlying infection requires immediate medical attention.

More Pain: Normally, the pain subsides a few days after an injury or wound. Long-lasting or elevated pain even after a few days is a symptom of an infected site.

More Swelling: Similar to redness around the wound, swelling in the affected area indicates that the body’s immune system is working. But if the swelling continues even after 3-5 days, with no signs of it reducing, it indicates an infection.

Swollen Node: Generally, swollen lymph nodes indicate that a body’s immune system is fighting an illness. But the formation of a large and tender node near the injured site could be a sign of an infected wound.

Fever: After an injury or surgery, it is normal for a patient to run a low-grade fever. However, persistent high-grade fever coupled with decreased appetite and body ache is a sign of infection.

An intermediate velocity (muzzle velocity 350-650 meters per second or 1,200-2,000 feet per second) and a high velocity (muzzle velocity >600 meters per second or >2,000 feet per second) gun shot wounds are more likely to have a high risk of infection.

It has been found that gunshot wounds to the abdomen with associated colonic injuries had a worse outcome with an increased risk of developing wound infections.

Necrotizing Soft Tissue Infection. A serious, life-threatening condition. It needs treatment right away to keep it from destroying skin, muscle, and other soft tissues.

The word necrotizing comes from the Greek word "nekros."

It means "corpse" or "dead."

A necrotizing infection causes patches of tissue to die.

These infections are the result of bacteria invading the skin or the tissues under the skin. If untreated, they can cause death in hours.

Fortunately, such infections are very rare. They can quickly spread from the original infection site. So it's important to know the symptoms.

The most common symptoms of a necrotizing soft tissue infection:

Pain that hurts more than you think it should, based on the size of the wound or sore

A wound with a fever (higher than 100.4°F or 38°C) and a rapid heartbeat. This is usually more than 100 beats a minute.

Pain that extends past the edge of the wound or visible infection

Pain, warmth, skin redness, or swelling at a wound, especially if the redness is spreading rapidly and if areas are turning bluish or black

Skin blisters, sometimes with a "crackling" sensation under the skin

Pain from a skin wound that also has signs of a more severe infection, such as chills and fever

Grayish, smelly liquid draining from the wound

A small sore or pus-filled bump that is unusually painful to the touch

An area around the sore that is hot to the touch

A hard time thinking clearly, especially along with one of the other symptoms noted

A lot of sweating, especially with one of the other symptoms noted

Areas of skin at or near a wound that feel numb

A sore that is getting worse quickly, especially if you:

Are obese

Have diabetes

Have a weak immune system from using a steroid regularly

Are on chemotherapy for cancer

Are on dialysis

Have peripheral artery disease

Drink a lot of alcohol

Have poorly controlled HIV/AIDS

People with some of these symptoms are surprised to learn that they have a necrotizing soft tissue infection.

That's because it may not seem to be very severe at first.

But these infections can get worse quickly if they are not aggressively treated.

Sources: 1 2 3 4 5 ⚜ More: References ⚜ Writing Resources PDFs

Here's another reference that includes some mechanisms at work with gunshots. And more information on wounds.

Thanks for this request, this was quite interesting for me to look up���no apologies needed! And thank you for your lovely words, hope this helps with your writing <3

[blueboybot]

In Your Cold Dead Arms

I don't care! I need to show yall one of my weird pairs.

Twigs and dry leaves snapped under feet that were in a hurry, wind blowing violently enough to feel as though it was one more step from uprooting trees and flinging them carelessly about with its strong might. Rain droplets fell from the dark and cloudy sky, rapid rainfall increasing with every droplet that hit skin and cloth, each one harsher than the other.

Some might find struggle with this kind of weather condition but for him it was way nicer than dealing with someone who could manipulate the weather at will. Luckily for him it was simply an act of nature, no powerful foe was attacking him and he could appreciate that once he got out of said rain.

As he ran his eyes continued to look out for shelter, something he could only hope to find in an area like this. More trees and plants overtook his vision, his temper starting to flare as rain fell even harder, almost feeling as if it were lashing him. Thunder boomed from above and lightening soon followed after, clouds lit up and illuminated the area for a few seconds.

On que, lightening striked next to a tree he was close to making him instinctively dodge out of the way. The tree took major damage, its base split in two and some of its green leaves burnt black. Fire appeared for a quick second before immediately being quelched by the rain. However with the destruction of the tree he was able to see a path, and further in the distance some kind of structure.

With the discovery of shelter he headed straight for the building, his legs picking up speed with the promise of soon being out of rain. Getting closer he saw that the structure was a mansion, an abandoned mansion at that. Not one to be picky he pushed open the gates with overgrown vines, finding them unlocked and bolted straight towards the front door, ready to use his body to force it open only to find out it was also unlocked and opened when his hand pushed on it.

Entering the mansion his first red flag came when he laid his eyes on the interior of the place. It was much nicer on the inside than the outside, the floors were clean and shiny, a chandelier lit up with flames hung high from the ceiling, red carpet and wooden decorations greeted him from where he could see them. Overall, the mansion gave off the vibes that it was well kept and that meant he may have just broke into someone's home.

"HELLO, IS ANYONE HERE?"

He expected someone to come rushing out of a door, cursing him or attacking him for entering their home as an unwated guest but he got nothing.

"Please tell me I didn't walk into some kind of haunted house." He mumbled.

Arsenal stood near the entrance door, wiping his boots on the mat and trying to dry himself with the warmth of a nearby candle. He tried to contact the team but something was blocking his signal, so for now he was stuck here until the rain stopped, but judging from the sounds outside that may take a while. He himself think back to how he got into this situation in the first place.

They were flying in the bioship when they got attacked, while trying to manuver through the air the ship got hit and plunged into the sea. He remembered exiting the bioship to look at the damage, only to be swept away by a current that appeared out of nowhere. He ended up on a beach and tried to contact the others but his communicator didn't work. Leaving the beach to explore the rest of the island storm coulds appeared, then it started raining so he ran to find shelter. Now, he was here in mansion that may or may not be haunted.

With a hesitant first step he continued to explore the mansion, going up the long steps that lead to the second floor. Turning left he was met with a hallway, dark brown with a few candles lighting up the way from which they were positioned from each door. Peaking inside, he saw a room with the same dark brown wood, but this time there were elegant designs carved into some of the walls, soft looking chairs and a rug lay in the center surrounded by bookshelves on the wall, a window showcasing the rainy outside world.

The sound of something falling against the floor in another room caught his attention. He whipped out his bow and readied an arrow, cautiously, he drew nearer toward the sound, stopping infront of the third room on the right that was slightly open. Slowly, he pushed open the door back, coming to halt when he saw nothing but furniture covered in white sheets.

He didn't lower his bow though, and his theory of something being in here was proven correct when movement came from a sheet close to the window. Arsenal stepped closer, arrow aimed directly at what he assumed was its head, whatever is under there could be dangerous for all he knows and he wasn't taking anymore chances. He wasn't about to lose another arm or any other limbs for that matter.

The rustling stopped and the sheet pulled back, revealing the face of someone that was definitely close in age to him. Hair so dark as if it was trying to mimic the void of space looked wet, strands clinging to their forehead. Freckles dusted over their cheeks and nose like they were carefully placed by the gentlest of hands. Blue eyes stared at the bow and then him, looking at him with a hint of curiousity only to turn to fear a second later at remembering that there was a weapon very close to their face.

Those blue eyes intrigued the red head. They were unlike any blue he had seen before, mesmerizing in a way, tempting him into their hypnotic trance. Looking away was becoming more of a challenge the longer he continued seeing into something so enchanting. They reminded him of the ice and a burning blue star. So out of this world that he swore his body was beginning to tingle as those eyes gaze back into him. He was locked in a view so breathtaking that the word did little justice to describe how he felt as he stared.

His trance was broken when the teen scrambled away from him, hitting hard against the underwall of the window, and likely hurting his back if the way he winced was anything to go by. The other boy quickly got up an moved to side, hitting his head into a piece of covered furniture that reverberated with a clang sound.

Aresenal winced, deciding he needed to step in and do something before the teen knocked himself out while trying and failing to get away from him.

"Easy easy!" He put away his bow and arrow, looking at the boy on the floor with his hands up to come across less dangerous "I'm not going to hurt you, I was just curious as to why I heard a noise coming from this room."

The teen looked at him with those blue eyes, accessing him to see if he was lying. He must of taken a gamble and decided to somewhat believe he meant no harm because the boy rose to his feet once again, looking at him with slight caution now.

"Do you live here?"

"No, I was trying to escape the rain and came across this abandoned mansion." He replied, looking away from Roy and opting to stare at the carpet.

"Got a shy one." Roy thought looking over the boy and his body language.

His clothes looked a little too big for him. A white t-shirt with short red sleeves and an oval pattern in the middle, black cargo pants, and red shoes with white lacing. There was also a metalic looking wristband the boy wore on his left hand. Overall, Arsenal took him for a pretty boy who wasn't used to these sorts of situations, one who doesn't do much except for sit in quiet with the popular kids and have everything handed to him without much of a resistance from other teachers or students.

"So do you have a name or do I just call you boy?" Roy asked, trying to lighten the atmosphere.

"I'm not a child!"

Oh he was going to have fun with this one.

Roy's face split into a grin as he waited for the boy to reply. The other teen rolled his eyes at him.

"My name is Danny." Danny looked him up and down, "Did you just come from a cosplay party or something?"

He raised an eyebrow, "I'm Arsenal!"

This time Danny raised an eyebrow at him.

"Protégé of Green Arrow."

The boy's face remained the same as Roy's changed.

"Part of the Young Justice team."

Still no look of recognition.

"The Justice League."

"I literally don't have a clue on what any of those are, is it like some kind of sports team?"

"How do you not know the Justice League?"

"I'm from a small town, a lot of outside media doesn't get through to us." The boy mumbled something with a hint of annoyance at the end.

Roy groaned in frustration, putting his hands up to his masked face. He silently wondered if he was going to have to tell pretty boy here about the existance of aliens and meta-humans.

"Woah!" He heard the boy exclaim, feet that barely made a sound ran up to him. "Cool arm!" Roy spread his arms apart from his face to look at him, seeing that the boy's focus was entirely on his prosthetic.

"What kind of lights did you buy for this?"

" Lights? What no— This is how it is." He growled out the last part, remembering what Lex did still left a sour taste in his mouth.

"No. Way!" Danny's eyes seemed to sparkle with awe. "Can I touch it, please?"

Roy let the other teen poke at his arm, watching as fascination filled those blue eyes. The only other person that showed this much interest in his arm was Bart and the little menace would always ask to look at it or try to wrestle him, resulting in him always winning because there was no chance of him losing to someone with those kind of arms.

"This is amazing, can you wiggle your fingers for me?" Roy did just that and watched as a smile etched onto the boy's face.

"INCREDIBLE! The black metal, the desgin, everything was made to fit you. But, I bet I could do a way better job."

"Oh really?" He raised an eyebrow.

"My parents are inventors and scientist, I obviously picked up a thing or two from being around their equipment for so long." Danny placed his two hands on the prosthetic, providing Roy with the knowledge that he was two inches taller than Danny.

The vigilante catalogued the information given to him for later. Even if Danny meant him no harm that didn't mean he trusted him right away, sue him, but the other's parents being scientist that built enough inventions for Danny to alledgedly make his own made him wary.

"You're not a bad cosplayer." Danny said, leaning his head against the metalic arm while looking at Roy.

Those too blue eyes pierced his soul. Danny had to be a meta or alien of some kind, there was no other explanation for his eyes.

"It's not a cos—"

*SCREECH*

An unholy noise screamed out, sounding like a high pitched call and simultaneously a warning from whatever creature it came from.

Roy quickly grabbed Danny by the waist and pushed the boy behind him, shielding him as he armed himself once again.

[chipperchemical]

my favourite physical disability hermit hcs because projection is sexy

•Grian gets chronic pain in his legs and feet. It leads to him flying around a lot and hovering rather than standing around: it gives him some nice rest.

•Keralis has sight issues. He's not blind by any means, but his vision is cloudy and faded out.

•Doc has arthritis in his real hand but instead of just dealing with it, he invented a high-tech version of finger splints with things like a communicator or a map built in as holograms.

•Bdubs has leg and lower back pain. He has a heated blanket waiting in his bed every night for him, and sometimes has a heat pack strapped to his back under his shirt. (The strap-on heat pack is from Pearl.)

•Cleo is a zombie, so sometimes her limbs fall off and she just... goes on without them until she needs them again. Joe has to make a finger delivery to her at least once a month because he finds them lying around.

•Tango has to steam his face every two weeks because his redstone eyes make it difficult to see.

•Etho has a throat condition where talking is sometimes difficult. He's also immunocompromised, but he had the mask long before he knew that.

•Scar uses mobility aids. He switches between his wheelchair, cane, or leg braces, depending on his vibe that day.

•Impulse uses knee supports. Similar to Scar, he has different colours for different occasions. Cyberpunk, summer, sciencey...

•Zedaph has hearing aids.

•Xisuma uses a cannula under his mask.

please share your disability hermit/traffic headcanons..... i crave them........

[emil1863]

More for the au!

The basics, Gods, Demigods, Devil Fruits, all exist.

World Gov + Marines try and keep the whole concept of gods and demigods under wraps. Because I'm working with "D's" carry divinity. And having a good chunk of them outright despise the government isn't a great look.

Luffy is a god while Garp and Dragon are demigods. Luffy can shift between physical and 'divine' form whereas demigods don't have that ability.

Luffy is the successor/inheritor of his predecessor's will and own divinity. But not through reincarnation necessarily. One in the same but they are very much so different. His devil fruit and promise to Shanks cemented his place as the successor to the sun and freedom. When gods and demigods start out, there isn't a wholly set future for what will they will have, or the ideals they will embody. Luffy has always had his cloudy/intangible form.

Imagine Garp's surprise when his grandson, who was supposed to join him in the marines, is set to embody freedom and the sun. He was pissed for a solid week about that. Garp also had to deal with questioning where Dragon had even gotten Luffy from, he still doesn't know.

Ace and Sabo were very adamant that Luffy not show off his divine form to everyone, especially if he wanted to become a pirate. He can't be a pirate if the government tracks him down and hides him away at the ripe age of like, 8. Also because having a full god is pretty uncommon, Sabo has heard horror story after horror story of what nobles and those in higher society would do to a god. Sabo is the most vocal about Luffy being careful about that.

Luffy meets Koby, and does an absolutely terrible job at keeping his form hidden. It's harder to control which form he's in when he's excited. Koby was a human with no divinity and big dreams that Luffy adored. So, already excited with a new friend, and the two on their way to Shells town, Luffy sneezed and immediately sold himself out. Koby is a terrible liar and so just elects to never speak on this topic ever. If anyone asks why he has so much knowledge on gods, specifically sun gods, he just doesn't answer. Helmeppo thinks it's funny and immediately pieced together why, because Koby cannot keep anything from him. And Garp has to respect how hard that kid is trying to not completely sell out his grandson, even if the brat kind of deserves it for being a pirate.

Luffy is going to be the Pirate King, divine or not. His crew quickly find out about his side quirk/form in varying ways. Zoro woke up one day with a cloudy demon from hell cutting off his airways. Nami was trying to explain clouds to Luffy and that 'no, they cannot just spawn on your person, that's stupid,' and so Luffy shows her that he is in fact, correct.

Usopp got jumpscared early in the morning, before the sun had risen, when Luffy just appeared behind him and asked if he wanted to watch the sunrise. Sanji was cooking dinner and Luffy got so excited he phased out of his physical body.

Chopper found out while asking Luffy if he had any medical conditions he should know about, he thought it was kinda cool that Luffy can change forms. And is only a little jealous that Luffy has a fully human form. Luffy always makes sure to tell Chopper he's exactly who he needs to be.

Robin found out after talking about 'Nika,' who is thought to be long dead, but is not. And is the captain of the crew she is now apart of. Luffy knows the name is important and it has a certain weight when it's said. He physically feels when someone says his name around him. Robin thinks this is very fascinating. (Also can add some context into poneglyphs, that there is a lot to it, even if Robin doesn't yet know and Luffy wasn't alive/doesn't have that knowledge)

Franky was showing off cool shit he could do with his robotic body, and Luffy was like 'me too!!!'

Brook found out when Luffy fell asleep listening to him play a song, and Luffy slipped back into his resting form of cloudiness.

While both forms have their uses and limitations, Luffy is most comfortable in his intangible form, even if his physical one is the default. He cannot access his divine form after a certain point of exhaustion hits.

Im going to end that there before I have an entire novel in this. But that's the general thought throw up I'm smacking down right now.

Sorry if this is incoherent and not easy to understand lol. I will flesh it out more later and when I have actually thought more about it. Might change things later too. Then I'll probably make a good post about it with actual wellish made context and lore.

[sonadowwiki]

Correcting Misinformation and Disinformation

If anyone is trying to say that these lines are official in Sonic Frontiers, know that it is misinformation and that they are lying because these lines were cut and are not in the game officially.

In bullet points:

These lines are cut-lines and they never made it to the final version for any platform

Ian, the writer for Sonic Frontiers, didn't even write these lines to be in the game

Since the lines are in the database of the game (but does not occur in the final version of the game), the lines can be modded into the game to make it seem official or that it's in the final version of the game

"Proofs" showing these lines to be in the game have faults within them, such as not occurring on the correct island or weather condition

There are several factors to consider when acknowledging these lines existence. One of the main factors is that these are cut-lines that never made it to the official and final version of Sonic Frontiers. This goes for both the English and Japanese version of the game. These lines can only be found through datamining the game, which means to look through files deep within the game that don't make it to the surface. So, these lines will never be activated because there is nothing to activate it, therefore it is not official lines.

Another thing to know about is that Ian, the one who wrote the story and dialogue lines for Sonic Frontiers, was not even aware of these lines existing in the game because he never wrote them or had anything similar be made for these lines to exist. Therefore, it wasn't even planned to have these lines in the game whatsoever. Someone else, other than Ian, snuck the lines in and had it go against what the original story was in the first place; they tried to have their own story or vision be put in the game aside from what Ian wrote or how it was originally conceived. This makes the lines even more unofficial and not real. Many already acknowledge that these lines are not official and are cut lines.

One more thing to consider is that even if people show "proof" of it existing in the games, these lines and even text can be easily modded into the game for it to seem like it exists in the final game. But just because it is modified in, doesn't mean that it was there originally.

As it can be seen through this individual who is able to make unused conversations be put into the game in some manner through modification, it is also possible to put unused conversations lines in the game in some manner. These lines towards Amy aren't the only lines that are unused in the game. There are many lines that aren't used and that are still in the database of the game, but that doesn't mean that any of them made it to the final game for people to see through normal means.

Another thing to take note about is that these lines towards Amy (the "Umbrella" and "Making up his mind" lines), are lines that occur on Rhea or Ouranos Island, but the first pictures shown in this thread show that the lines were randomly said on Kronos Island, the first island you go to in the game. That shows that this person modified the lines to be said in the game and that they are not triggered under normal means. Another way to figure out that these lines are modified is that the "Umbrella" line is supposed to only be triggered while it's raining, but the line is said randomly while it is only cloudy in the person's "proof" of it existing in the game.

On a side note, datamining and modifying games tend to be illegal depending on what company the game comes from. For example, Nintendo has policies that say that if you are to play their games, you cannot modify their systems or games that are played on that console. So this practice of modifying and datamining is not encouraged by the majority of game companies and isn't welcomed, therefore it should become a common practice to not to try to do these illegal activity towards any game.

[eilorow]

Horny Hunk - Bedroom

Trey walked up the stairs to his apartment door, still tired from today’s shoot. He was looking forward to slumping down on his couch and winding down. He loved his job, but it did mean having to sit through a few long, exhausting days every now and then. As he stepped through the door, his boyfriend called out to him from the living room. “Hey babe, how was work?” He got up from the couch to greet him at the door. “Fine,” Trey replied, going in for a kiss. “The photographer was a bit annoying, he kept asking me to re-do this one shot that wasn’t even that important.” “He must’ve wanted to keep you longer. Can’t blame him,” his boyfriend replied with a smirk.

Trey smiled at the comment. Chase always knew how to cheer him up. Most of his friends were surprised when he told them they were dating: a model, with an average-looking office worker? The truth is, they were both Hunks. Trey still remembers how he met him at the bar, how he was attracted to him even if he wasn’t really his type. That changed quickly though, as when he brought him home and they both turned, they had the hottest sex he’d ever had. That was over a year ago, and they were now happily living together in their flat.

“I think I know what would cheer you up,” Chase whispered, going in for another kiss. “Not tonight, I’m really tired,” Trey replied. “I’m gonna take a shower then order us dinner.” “But you want to, don’t you?” Chase smiled as he grabbed his package. “This is telling me you do.” Trey was already feeling his cock stiffen at the idea. He loved when his boyfriend got cocky, and Chase knew it very well. “Chase, these are designer clothes, be careful-” “Doesn’t that make it hotter?” Trey pulled away from him, already feeling something stir inside of him. “Goddammit, Chase.” He could hear him giggling behind him.

He made his way towards their bedroom, head already getting cloudy. He had a very high libido, which was often an issue with his condition. It barely took anything for him to start turning, especially when his body felt the need for it, which seemed to be right now. He felt his neck and shoulders tense up, slowly stretching as his transformation began. His walk got unsteady as his legs stretched too, adding some height onto his already tall 5’11 frame. He looked down as he felt his feet cramp up, and saw his boat shoes stretching slowly. He hurriedly kicked them off and moaned slightly as his feet lengthened further on the floor. He moved his right hand to his ass, feeling it enlarge, becoming the signature hunky bubble butt. Meanwhile, he moved his left hand to feel his left pec blowing up, teasing his sensitive nipple through the fabric of his tightening shirt. “Oh fuck!” he whimpered, shakily unbuttoning his shirt, starting from the top, to avoid it ripping in any way. His thickening and lengthening fingers struggled to move the tiny pieces through the holes, but he did manage to free his heaving pecs.

He stumbled through the door to their bedroom and quickly stood in front of his full length mirror. He ran a hand across his huge pecs, feeling how soft yet firm they were, giving a little bounce. The show off mindset was already setting in. He brought up one of his arms, flexing his growing bicep. He cupped it with his other hand, moaning from pleasure. However, as he lowered his eyes again, he saw the bottom of his abs poking under his shirt, the lower half of it stretched along his thickening core. He quickly unbuttoned the remaining buttons, letting his sculpted upper body breathe freely. He took off his shirt completely, his large hands and forearms barely squeezing through the sleeves. As his shirt fell to the floor, he felt another pain, this time in his lower half, and saw the button of his pants strained against his growing erection. He undid it before it could rip through, letting his underwear and cock spill onto the front of his jeans. His member seemed to be at 6 or 7 inches already, and it wasn’t even fully hard yet. Below it, his thighs were getting bigger and bigger, straining his pants so they stopped well above his ankles, although maybe that was because of his new height of 6’2. He slid them down slowly, careful not to accidentally rip them with his powerful legs. As he stepped out of them, his dick flopped out of his underwear, the swelling head forming its first drop of pre. Pulling down his briefs, he looked up at his already handsome face in the mirror to see the last of the changes, his jaw getting squarer, features smoothening, eyes becoming clearer, hair settling into a perfect slightly messy hairstyle. If he modeled with that face he’d make a fortune, but he couldn’t, for obvious reasons. Being permanently horny on set would be anything but professional. Like any other Hunk, he became practically feral when he turned.

He was already starting to lose his senses, his thoughts replaced with sex and hot guys, one in particular. As his underwear landed on the floor and his transformation subsided, T, the Hunk, turned towards the door to his bedroom to see Chase waiting for him, completely naked and smirking at him. T’s dick was pointed right at him, 8 and a half inches of pure man meat drooling pre-cum on the floor. T lunged at him and pulled him towards the bed, hungrily kissing him. Chase was kissing him back just as strongly, as if impatient for his own transformation to begin.

T grabbed Chase by the shoulders and pushed him on the bed, crawling on top of him. Chase flipped himself around, smirking slightly while propping his ass up, inviting his boyfriend to come inside. T wasted no time, positioning his large tool over it, rubbing it over the hole a few times before entering it softly. Tightly gripping the sheets, Chase was breathing heavily, feeling heat swell inside him. His already hard 5-inch cock started leaking pre-cum onto the covers while becoming ever so sensitive, head swelling bigger. He could hear T’s soft moans in sync with their repeated motion; pleasure overwhelmed him as his body started changing. With each of T’s pumps into his ass, he could feel his body stretching taller, his meager 5’8 slowly becoming 5’9, then 5’10 and 5’11. His ass became plumper, tightening the grip on T’s cock and getting him to moan more intensely. Below that, his legs kept inching longer, thighs getting thicker, small feet blowing up and lengthening, toes creeping closer to the edge of the bed. Chase kept squirming slightly to allow his torso some room while his back stretched upwards and sideways; his shoulders broadened in the process, the weird feeling causing Chase to let go of the sheets. He grabbed them again soon after, though, as his arms ballooned with muscles, growing biceps, widening forearms and swelling hands clutching the sheets hard, almost ripping them off with his newfound strength. Chase used his new powerful arms to prop himself up, allowing him to look down at his pecs while they grew, swelled into two round peaks of muscle. He also saw the start of his abs forming below. Meanwhile, T got a nice view of his back muscles, sculpting in front of his eyes.

Suddenly, something shifted in the energy between them. Chase’s asscheeks grew bigger again, but got hard with muscle, essentially squeezing his boyfriend’s dick between them. T was no longer pushing forward, it was Chase that was pulling him in. Chase’s face shifted with his expression, jaw getting squarer, features getting brutish and handsome as a naughty smile slipped on his plump lips, knowing full well he was moments from being in control. His legs were still stretching, thighs growing to become huge tree trunks below his boyfriend’s legs, which were looking less and less threatening. His feet were now bigger than T’s, still swelling with powerful muscle. As his torso stretched again, letting him reach a height of about 6’2, the same as T, he rose up all of a sudden, arms growing bigger again to allow him such a feat. He dislodged his boyfriend from his ass right before he could cum, using his surprise to turn him around and pin him down in front of him.

Chase’s, or rather, Chad’s hands were on T’s, fingers still swelling to give him a stronger grip. Getting on his knees to allow his lengthening feet to dangle off the bed, he positioned his own cock above his boyfriend’s ass. As if it knew, it grew from its regular 5 inches to 6, then 7 inches, pushing out pre-cum in the process, which landed on T’s ass. The Hunk shuddered in pleasure and anticipation, being so close to cumming and yet now desperately needing Chad’s dick inside him. Chad’s face finished shifting as he leaned next to his boyfriend’s face, whispering in his ear: “It’s my turn now…” He promptly jammed his cock between T’s soft asscheeks, yet managed to be delicate. He started softly humping it forwards, feeling the missing length being added little by little, with it reaching 7 and a half inches, then 8 inches, causing both of them to moan out loudly. His body wasn’t done growing, as each thrust forwards added even more height to his impressive stature. His thighs were monstrous by then, his pecs were heaving up and down and his abs were almost done forming into an 8-pack. As he finally reached the height of 6’5, and a penis length of 9 inches, he finally felt close to release. T was overwhelmed with pleasure at this point, as he always was when they switched like this. Chad kept thrusting, feeling his dick grow, edging slowly towards release. Finally, as Chad’s cock reached its final size of 9 and a half inches, both Hunks bellowed out their loudest moans as they came simultaneously, Chad pulling out instants before in order to cover T’s back in his cum, while T sprayed the sheets below with his own. Then, the two spent Hunks crumbled on the bed, Chad putting his arms around T and forming the big spoon around him.

-----

Trey and Chase kept spooning for a little while longer while they turned back, gradually shifting their position until Trey was the big spoon instead. As both of their dicks finally softened, Chase turned to look in his boyfriend’s eyes, still smiling from their encounter. Trey chuckled slightly, running his fingers through his hair: “You gotta be careful, you know. One day, you might actually get me to rip through something important.” Chase kept smiling as he answered: “I gotta keep you on your toes! Always expect the unexpected!” He was still joking, but his expression darkened a bit, his smile slowly slipping off his face. “Sometimes, I worry you’ll get bored of me if I don’t.” Trey cradled his hand under Chase’s chin, propping his head up so he stared into his eyes. “I could never get bored of you. You’re the only part of my day I look forward to.” Trey might not be a poet, but he knew how to get Chase’s smile back. “Now, how about that shower? We can get cleaned up and then eat somewhere nice, what do you say?” Chase nodded, knowing their nice evening together was just getting started.

[toomuchracket]

sweater weather (office nerd matty x reader smut)

another promptober75 fic, letting your usually subby boyf take the lead for once. warnings for oral (both receiving) and a little bit of ass play (reader, not matty). enjoy <3

“fuck, fuck, baby, that's it, don't stop,” matty's breathy words turn to a strangled moan as you oblige him, muscles tensing under your grip. “oh - shit, just like that - you look so fucking pretty. feel even better, god, you're perfect.”

the praise courses through your body, wiping away all traces of discomfort caused by kneeling on the shower floor, and simultaneously hazing your brain and relaxing the muscles in your mouth and throat; how else can you explain why you're suddenly able to take even more of matty's cock between your lips, when the sheer size of it has already ensured your jaw will hurt tomorrow? he groans again at the feeling, thighs shaking with the effort of not automatically fucking your mouth, and you hum happily at his obedience. which, y'know, sets him off babbling again. “baby, mmm, baby… m'close.”

you moan around him, and matty whines again, big hand coming up to hold the back of your head. he doesn't use it to push you further onto him, or as leverage so he can thrust into your mouth, and while your heart melts at the way he just softly caresses your hair, you can't ignore the flush of heat between your thighs at the thought of him using you a little bit more than he usually does. you can't quite be sure, because your brain is so cloudy - your boyfriend really is fucking huge - but the thought of matty taking charge seems to spur you on even more, make you hollow your cheeks and bob your head without you even realising it, properly act like the obedient little slut you don't have a history of being; you know matty loves you, and loves you like this for him, but that alone wouldn't be enough to have him trembling and moaning “gonna cum, gonna cum” as desperately as he is now.

huh. seems like you're more of a switch than you thought.

subconsciously, again, your lips inch further down matty's dick, ever so slightly too far - you rush to squeeze your thumb in your fist, but you're not fast enough to stop yourself gagging. your teary eyes flick up to look into matty's, and as soon as they meet, his beautiful face slackens with a soft “oh”, before you feel him twitch in your mouth and cum. bless your boyfriend, though; he gently manoeuvres himself out of you before he's even properly finished, leaving a trail of white liquid on your tongue and lips, dripping down onto your chest. as you swallow, licking your lips to get as much as you can, you shuffle out from under the stream of water so matty's decoration on your tits goes undisturbed - judging by the way he bites his lip as he looks at you, hard chest heaving as he catches his breath, that was a good idea.

you beam, and matty blushes. his hand finds your wet hair again, stroking it with his thumb. “stop looking at me like that.”

“like what?”

“all sweet and innocent. like you didn't just suck my soul out through my dick,” he laughs, eyes soft. “thank you, darling.”

“no need to thank me. i love doing that,” you reach up to squeeze his other hand. “i love you.”

matty giggles, giddy. you know exactly how he feels. “i love you more.”

“oh, god. we'll be here all day if you start that argument, and the water's probably gonna start running cold soon as is.”

“c'mere, then,” matty helps you up, pressing his forehead to yours and kissing you softly. “would you like anything from me before we dry off, sweet girl?”

“my hair washed, please?”

he smiles against your lips, pressing his own to them. “turn around, then, gorgeous.”

you oblige, letting him shampoo and condition your hair, turning back round and clinging to him while your hair mask marinates, giggling when he insists on rinsing it out while you cuddle. he insists on taking care of you for the rest of the day, actually, drying you and your hair, taking maggie for her walk because “look how cold it looks out there, babe, we can't both freeze”, texting to say he'll be returning with fancy m&s microwave meals so you don't need to stress about what to make for dinner (as you're wont to do, honestly). he also, as it happens, returns with a bottle of red wine, nudging the bedroom door open carefully so as not to spill anything from the glasses in his hands and stain the light carpet red. “hi, baby - oh, wow.”

you peer up from your book, shoving your glasses back up your nose. “wow what?”

matty beams, and the world looks so much brighter all of a sudden. “you're wearing my hoodie.”

“oh,” you glance down at the grey fabric you'd half-forgotten you were wearing. “yeah, i s'pose i am,” you kick your socked feet, resting your head on your hand and smiling cheekily. “do i look pretty?”

“you always look pretty,” matty wanders over, laying the wine on the bedside table and moving to straddle the back of your thighs. “but i think you look especially delectable wearing my clothes,” he lightly drags his hand down your spine and onto your ass, smacking the ample flesh before giving it a squeeze; you whimper at the feeling, heat beginning to pool in your underwear, and he laughs softly. “sorry, darling. couldn't resist, not with you in these leggings. but it was a bit too forward of me, i know.”

“no, no, not at all,” your words are slightly garbled in your haste to get them out, frantically shaking your head before turning to look at him as best you can. “i, um, i actually quite like it when you're… yeah. when you're a bit, you know,” you clear your throat. “a bit forceful. in charge. that sort of thing.”

there's silence for a moment, and you begin to chew the inside of your cheek in fear that you've scared matty off. but then he blinks, and his eyes crinkle into a small smile. “are you asking me to dom you, sweetheart?”

the glee in his voice ignites some of your own. you nod, cheeks lifting into a grin. “yeah, i am. if you'd be into it, that is.”

“it'll make you feel good, yeah?”

you nod again, closing your eyes in contentment when he leans down to nuzzle into you. “don't wanna think for a while. want you to take care of me, baby.”

“oh, lovely girl,” matty's lips meet your neck, pressing soft kisses to the even-softer skin, all the way up to your ear. “of course i'll take care of you,” he kisses your cheek. “what do you need, darling?”

“you.”

he laughs into your skin. it makes you smile. “gonna have to be more specific than that, gorgeous.”

part of you really wants to tell him to have at it, but no. this is his first time being completely in control - he needs guidance. “um, let's think,” you click your tongue, smiling when an idea pops into your head. “oh! you did say i looked delectable…”

“... so you want me to eat you out,” matty nods. clever boy. he smacks your ass again. “hands and knees, then, my girl. or elbows, whichever is comfier.”

“mmmkay,” you shuffle onto your knees, sliding your arms forward so you're leaning on your elbows and sighing happily at the stretch in your upper body. “should i take the hoodie off, or-”

“don't you dare.”

“alright,” you giggle, moving obligingly when matty pulls your leggings and thong down. he swears under his breath, and you look back at him again, smiling shyly. “just so you know, angel - you can do whatever you want to me, yeah? anything at all.”

matty's jaw slackens almost imperceptibly; suddenly, his lips are on yours, warm and hungry and passionate, and you all but melt. when he's forced to pull away to breathe, he smiles into you. “wanna make you cum.”

fuck. he's perfect.

all you can do is nod, so keyed up you barely register him kissing back down your body - the next thing you feel is his hands on your ass, quickly followed by his tongue slicing right up your core and dipping into your eager cunt, and a broken moan falling from your lips. “oh, fuck.”

he laughs - or moans, maybe, you're not quite sure - into you, ducking down to lap at your clit, pressing a kiss to the bundle of nerves, before moving back up to make out with your cunt again and drawing a cacophony of wanton noises from your throat. and he never gets complacent with it, but matty quickly falls into a routine of switching between licking into you or sucking your clit; you fall even faster, further and further into total ecstasy, grinding back against your boyfriend's face as you whine and plead and cry for him not to stop. 

suddenly, his thumb begins to work circles into your clit, tongue still busy slicing through you, and your whole body jerks - so much so, in fact, that matty's tongue ends up flicking over your other hole. and it might just be because you're so close to orgasm anyway, but it actually feels good, so good that you can't help the soft whimpered “oh, yes” that escapes your lips.

well. quite the day for discoveries for you, isn't it?

and for matty, too, presumably - he repeats the motion, once, then twice, thumb frantic against your clit, and that's all you really need. with a scratchy wail of “fuck, baby, i'm there”, pleasure bursts in your stomach and careens through your body, sending your torso flat onto the bed and making your legs quiver. once they've stopped shaking quite so much, matty gently straightens your legs so you're lying down, flopping on top of you like the world's best weighted blanket. you do your best to ignore the feeling of his boner against your bare skin, and instead focus on matching the rhythm of your breathing to his.

matty's the one to break the comfortable silence, shuffling to rest his head at your shoulder. you can't see his expression, but you can hear the grin in his voice. “so… butt stuff?”

“shut up,” you do your best to bury your face into the mattress. “i didn't know i liked it, alright?”

“i'm not complaining, darling, i very much enjoyed your reaction,” he kisses your head, moving to sit up. “d'you want some wine?”

you twist to look back at him, nodding. fuck, he's gorgeous, flushed and messy-haired and looking adoringly at you. “will you fuck me after it, baby?”

matty smirks. “which hole did you have in mind?”

“for fuck's sake, matthew. the usual one!”

he laughs, and your annoyance at him dissipates. “m'just messing, gorgeous,” he passes you a glass of wine. “drink up quickly, then. and maybe stretch a little bit, actually - you might need it before some of the positions i've been reading about that i wanna try with you. sound alright?”

“sounds fucking perfect.”

[whyhellosims]

Happy Simblreen, friends! First gift of the season is the Carnaval Kit overalls converted for kids!

Info and download links under the cut!

What you get: Twenty total swatches, including all original colors and a few new/grungy ones for fun, plus the usual white swatch for the recolor adventurous. What you don't get? NECKLACES. Sorry, kids, I just could not get them to display correctly, so no necklaces with this. It's a full body outfit, unisex, disallowed for random. You can find it enabled for athletic, hot weather, every day, and party under the jumpsuits and overalls sort.

Some in-game shots (sorry, it was cloudy AF):

TOU: No pay sites ever. This item is free always, no conditions, no a*fly links. If you use it and you want to credit me, I’d love to see your sims, so just tag me. This is also part of my #WHS-LittleGrunge collection, so feel free to check out the other pieces!

If you like my work, please consider a reblog to spread the word? Got requests? Need specific recolors? Find a problem? Please feel free to send me an ask or a DM! I promise I don’t bite and I’m still learning, so I’m happy to help!

Thank you to @sssvitlanz, @mmfinds, @alwaysfreecc, @mmoutfitters, @public-ccfinds, @simblreenofficial​

Moar WHS CC

Here we goes! ➡ SFS Link / Google Drive

Thank you so much for making simblr a fun and delightful community! Happy Simblreen, my friend, and stay spooky!

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Just Friends: Autumn Daze

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Bucky Barnes

masterlist

Summary: you and Bucky go on a double date.

It’s giving

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

After the trainwreck of your efforts, you’re deflated. You can say you’re disappointed that it didn’t work out, but more so, you’re just disappointed in Bucky. The more you think about his behaviour that night, the worse you feel. 

And not just let down. You a bit miffed by it all. He even asked what was wrong after? All after he treated the whole thing like you were forcing him to go to the dentist. You didn’t bring Sam to upset him, you thought it would be good to show support for Bucky, to get him back out here.  

Well, now you get it, he doesn’t want that. And that’s okay. But he could have said so earlier. He didn’t need to embarrass you. 

Then your guilt overwhelms everything else. Maybe you just didn’t listen. Maybe you’re a bad friend. It’s all cloudy and confusing. 

So, you let his messages go unread. You’re not ready to talk. You need to sort this all out. You need to sort yourself out. The nagging insecurity rears its hideous head; you don’t deserve a friend like Bucky.  

He's too cool for you. You’re too lame. He can go out and do anything he wants. He saves the world for a living and you dress up like movie characters and serve meatloaf. How the heck did he even stick around this long? 

That must be it. Bucky doesn’t trust your taste. Charlize might be charming and sleek, but if she’s your friend, she can’t be on his level. 

No, no, no. You’re spiraling. Why? He didn’t say any of that. You’re making it up. 

You shake off the doubt as best you can and finish swiffering the kitchen tile. It’s not much. About three feet of floorspace between the two parallel counters. The apartment is so small, it doesn’t take very long to do the floors, and yet, it’s always cluttered because it can’t fit all your stupid stuffies and collectibles. 

Grow up. That’s what you should do. 

The buzzer curtails another plummet into self-pity. You huff. If it’s that guy asking for whoever Gerald is again, you’re going to lost it. You tap the button. 

“’Lo?” You grip the handle of the swiffer. 

“Dreamy? Hey. You’re home,” Bucky’s grizzly timbre sounds crackly through the aged speaker. You let go of the button and sigh again. You press down. 

“Hi, what’s going on?” You ask. 

He snorts, “Dreamy? Nothing. Just... I wanted to ask you something. You haven’t been answering so I got worried.” 

“Oh, right,” you utter dully. “I’ve been cleaning.” 

“All week?” He challenges. 

“Work,” you say flatly. 

“Right, makes sense,” he says. “Well... can I come up? I got something real important to ask you.” 

You hesitate. You’re not really in the mind or condition to receive him. You have a scarf over your hair and a loose Tazmanian Devil shirt hanging off of you, matched by a pair of leggings patterned with groovy flowers. You look like a thrift store sneezed. 

“Okay.”  

You push the other button to let him in. You know you should draw firmer lines but there’s no good reason to ghost him. You don’t really want to lose him as a friend. It’s just you getting in your head. 

You unlock the door and switch the swiffer for the broom. As you sweep up the dust, the door opens. You go to your phone and turn down the music playing on your small pink speaker. You glance over at Bucky as he stands on the mop and wears an amused expression. 

“You look...” 

“Don’t. I’m cleaning,” you pout. You tilt your head at the orange shape under his arm. And the rest of him. 

Under his leather jacket, there’s a hint of orange and black. He’s wearing a very fuzzy looking sweater. That’s not really his style. On top of that, he has a coffee cup in hand. He hates those fancy shmancy places. 

“So, I guess you weren’t just in the area,” you still the broom completely. 

“Well, I thought you might be interested in a little road trip.” He frees the orange ball from under his arm and presents the stuffed pumpkin with the goofy smiley face and arms and legs. “There’s a pumpkin patch about an hour out.” 

“A pumpkin patch?” Your lips slant. 

“And I stayed on theme. Pumpkin vanilla latte,” he wiggles the cup slightly. 

“You’re bribing me?” 

“Is it a bribe when I know you want to go?” He jibes. 

You look between the pumpkin and the cup. He’s really playing with you. Are you so weak? 

“Alright, but I need to get changed,” you say. You lean the broom in the corner and cross to him. He holds out the stuffy. “I’m going to call him...” you hum and think, “Pumple Stilskin.” 

“Oh god, you’re so weird,” he says. 

“And yet here you are,” you stick your tongue out. 

Your chest knots but you feel a bit better than before. It’s good. It’s not as bad as you think, yet you can’t be entirely excited. There’s something else. Something that isn’t just you. 

“I’m going to go find him somewhere to live and oh! I have the perfect outfit for today!” You spin and rush away. 

You disappear into the bedroom and place Pumple with Mewchanan. You turn and slide open your closet, the door rattling on the wheels. Hmmmmmm. Ah. Yes, you still have it.  

You pick out the browny orange overall dress and the cute pumpkin blouse. You love it! 

You scramble to get it all on then come out to wrestle with your face and hair. Oof, you are a mess but you have the cutest beret you can hide under. Content, you come out to find Bucky staring at the little collection of rubber ducks painted to look like a black cat, a witch and a skeleton. 

“Pumpkin vanilla?” You near him. He steps back and offers the cup, “thanks,” you say as you take it. You taste it as you feel him watching you. You flick your eyes up and shrug, “what?” 

“Nothing. Ready to go?” He asks. 

“Just need my boots and coat,” you grin. “How’d you even think this up?” 

“I love autumn,” he says. 

“Sure,” you roll your eyes. 

“I’m serious. It reminds me of when I was a kid... as long ago as that was. Thanks, you don’t need to mention,” he adds. 

You chuckle and grab your boots, “wasn’t gonna,” you chirp back.  

It’s weird, thing seem normal but that tension is like a shadow over you. You let it fade to the edges. You don’t want to ruin the day. He did all this and you just want to enjoy it. Everything else can wait. 

[preppypersuasion]

Sepia Toned

Tom tried to remember how he got to his computer or why he kept the room dark, but it was hard to think straight with that bright computer screen in his face. Everything was fuzzy, like a dream—maybe he was dreaming? It's hard to remember. The room smelled of tobacco, and the screen's light bathed him in a thick sepia tone, giving him an old-world feeling. Was it the past, or was it still the present? Maybe the past was the present? It was difficult to say, impossible to remember.

All Tom could focus on was the bright screen before him, watching and waiting intensely. Something in his cloudy mind told him it was important to be still and patient. Suddenly, the screen flashed, projecting a looping image, a hypnotic GIF.

He went under in seconds with no resistance, his past mental conditioning working like a charm. He'd been put under countless times by his old-fashioned masters, not that he would ever realize it. Tonight would be his final time; his transformation had finally reached completion.

Tom, no, Thomas, was finally one of them, indistinguishable from the men of the past: an old-world soul who'd go back if he could… or maybe he did.

[nomie-11]

Chapter 2 - Into the Storm*

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Genevieve’s grandmother had always called her an outdoor girl. Despite being born with skin as pale as snow and hair as white as clouds, for as long as Genevieve could remember, she spent every waking minute she could outside. The sun, it seemed, had never taken a liking to her, though. Not for lack of trying on her part–her skin would blush an angry crimson beneath its rays, her arms prickling and shoulders peeling after hours under the relentless sky. Yet, she never minded. The nine year old girl loved the fields of her grandmother’s manor more than the sun could ever hate her. 

Her mother had called her a child of stars, recalling a condition that few kids are born with, causing their hair to be white and their eyes to be a pale purple like hers were. Her grandmother used to take her long, soft hair into her hands and braid it into what she called a Tyrrish crown, and hum, telling Genevieve that she was to be remarkable. 

To her grandmother, it was destined. Genevieve was born different, and because of that, she would be different. 

To Genevieve, it never mattered. 

In the two days she had before Basgiath, she spent her time near a secluded river near the cliffs leading up to the Parapet. She relished in the feeling of being surrounded once more by trees and the open sky, but the sky was cloudy. After five minutes of being outside, the sky grayed, and Genevieve’s mood dimmed. 

She cleaned herself up enough, getting the grime and dirt from her hair, and managing to steal a set of clothes from an unsuspecting passerby, but it was still… off. Her hair was too long. The loose strands that fell over her shoulders like silken threads would have been pulled back by now had her grandmother been here, and her clothes were ill-fitting. She looked different from how she wanted to portray herself—as a warrior, ready for the challenges of Basgiath, not a girl clinging to the memories of her childhood. 

Sighing, she knelt by the river, the cool water reflecting a rippled reflection of a stranger, a pale visage of who she is now. She cupped her hands, splashing her face to chase away the lingering remnants of childhood. As the water dripped from her fingers, she saw the now grown version of herself. The striking contrast of her white hair against the dark, turbulent waters was haunting. With a frown, she plunged her hands deeper, letting the water soak into her now clean hair, the sensation both soothing and invigorating. 

Her grandmother’s words echoed in her mind: “you are different, my child, and that is your strength.” But as she looked into the swirling depths, the strength she felt was fleeting. The challenges ahead of her were daunting. What would it mean to be remarkable in a world filled with dragons and warriors, when all she felt was the weight of expectations and the scars of her past? 

She grabbed a dagger that she had managed to snag from another passerby who seemed terrified of the ghastly girl who hid among the trees. The reflection’s eyes–her eyes–stared back, pale and fierce, daring her to do it. She held the dagger underneath her ear, hair drawn taught over the braid. With each passing moment, she grew tenser and tenser, until she made the sharp motion, her hair falling back in a jagged line, not much longer than her ears. 

With each ragged cut, her hair fell into the river, silver-white strands floating like wisps of mist on the current. She worked quickly, without hesitation, severing the grown out locks that had been a part of her for so long. When she was done, her hair grazed the bottom tips of her ears, uneven but free. 

The wind caught the shorter strands, and for the first time in days, she felt lighter. The sky remained cloudy, but there was clarity in the air, as if nature was giving her the space she needed to breathe. She touched her hair, the rough edges soft against her fingertips, and smiled. 

She wasn’t her grandmother’s outdoor girl anymore, nor her mother’s child of stars. With a final splash of water, she rose and stepped away from the riverbank. Grabbing her single dagger and empty bag, she joined the other hopefuls on the path to Basgiath. 

—----------------------------------------------------

Genevieve blended into the crowd of first-year cadets trudging up the steep, winding path to Basgiath as best as she could. Her new, choppier haircut felt foreign, the breeze tugging at the uneven edges as she adjusted the strap of her bag on her shoulder. There was a hum of nervous energy in the air, every person filled with dread or anticipation–or both. The daunting, 250 step climb loomed above, the Parapet still shrouded in mist. 

Making her way up the path, her legs burned from the climb, and she hated that the weight of the blade strapped to her thigh didn’t feel as comforting as it should. She kept her head down, observing everyone else. There were murmurs of who would make it, and who wouldn’t live to see the sunrise over the citadel of Basgiath. Genevieve’s lips pressed into a thin line. She had survived worse than some cursed stone walkway. 

As she neared a particularly narrow bend in the path, the crowd slowed, pushing tighter against the cliff. She felt the push of stone on her side, the open air on the other, her discomfort rising as the slope grew steeper. Her foot slipped on the loose dirt, and her knee grazed the rocky ground, sending a sharp sting up her leg. A hand caught her arm, steadying her before she could fall any further. 

“Careful there” a voice said, warm with humor. “Wouldn’t want to take a tumble this early.”

Genevieve straightened, her pale gaze met the eyes of the boy beside her. He was tall, with shaggy blond hair and blue eyes, his dimpled grin made it seem like he was never not smiling. His eyes, a deep ocean blue, studied her with a mixture of amusement and concern. 

“I was fine,” she muttered, pulling her arm free, though she could still feel the warmth of his grip. 

“Of course,” he replied, undeterred. “But a little help never hurts, right?” 

He fell into step beside her, adjusting the strap of his own bag. The ease with which he walked up the path, his balance seemingly unaffected by the incline in comparison to her still slightly disoriented stance, irritated her more than she cared to admit. She didn’t need help. Not from him, not from anyone. 

“I’m Liam,” he said after a moment, his smile widening as if he hadn’t noticed her annoyance. Or maybe he just didn’t care. “Liam Mairi.” 

Son of Colonel Mairi, Genevieve’s mind filled in the blank. Our families knew each other. 

“Genevieve Hale,” she responded shortly, focusing on the path ahead. She wasn;t interested in making friends. Not now. 

“Well, Genevieve, I hope you’ve got a good head for heights. Parapet’s going to test more than just your balance.” He winked, and she had to resist the urge to roll her eyes. 

She brushed her hair back—a habit from when it had been longer, through now there was nothing left to pull away. Liam’s eye flickered from her bandaged wrists to her hair, then back to her face, but he didn't comment. Instead, he gave a once-over, his gaze lingering on the blade at her side. 

“Nice dagger,” he remarked. “You only brought one?”

Genevieve’s eyes flickered to Liam, catching the trace of amusement in his deep blue gaze. He had a way of speaking, casual and confident, that was grating on her nerves. It wasn’t his fault—he was only trying to help—but she had spent too long relying on herself to feel comfortable accepting anyone's assistance. Especially not here, not on the treacherous path to Basgiath that seemed to enjoy reminding her that she hadn’t climbed more than twenty steps in the last 400 days. 

“I didn’t exactly have time to shop for more,” She replied, her voice sharper than intended. She adjusted the dagger at her side, fingers tightening on the hilt, the only thing that felt like hers despite being taken as well. The rest of her gear—stolen or ‘borrowed’---hung awkwardly off of her frame. The ill-fitting clothes, the worn boots, even the cut of her hair made her feel raw, exposed in a way she hadn’t anticipated. But this dagger, the one thing she had been deliberate in taking, gave her a sense of control. “I’ll make do.” 

Liam’s grin didn’t falter. “Fair enough. A single blade can be enough, as long as you know how to use it.” He gestured toward the Parapet, now visible through the mist as they broke the cloudline. “And I’m guessing you do. Wouldn’t be here otherwise.” 

Geneiveve didn't respond. She didn’t need his validation. She knew what she was capable of. But something about the way Liam moved beside her, easy and confident, made her hyper-aware of how much harder this climb was for her than it seemed for him. She couldn’t help but feel out of place here among these other recruits. Thank gods I practiced sparring down there. 

The rounded another bend in the path, the crowd pressing tighter as the cliff’s edge loomed uncomfortably close. She glanced down at the rocky drop below and immediately regretted it. Heights had never bothered her before, but this was different than before. 

Liam, sensing her discomfort, spoke again. “Scared of heights?” 

“No,” Genevieve said smoothly, but her rigid stance proved the discomfort in her words. 

“Could’ve fooled me,” he said with a chuckle. “You won’t fall. And once you’re up there it’s all about keeping your focus.” 

Genevieve bristled at his tone. She wasn’t scared. At least, not of the Parapet. She was scared of failing. Of not living up to her grandmother’s expectations, of proving that maybe she wasn’t so remarkable after all. But she would never admit that out loud. 

“Thanks for the advice,” she said tersely, quickening her pace to move up the line. The wind whipped at her uneven hair, and for a brief moment, she missed the feeling of her tight braid, the way it used to ground her, the way her grandmother used to use it as a comfort. 

But that part of her life is over now. 

Liam easily matched her stride, unfazed by her obvious attempt to distance herself. “You’ve got the spirit, I’ll give you that. But there’s no harm in accepting a bit of help. We’re all in this together, you know.” 

Genevieve’s eyes narrowed. “Are we? Because last I checked, it’s every rider for themselves once we’re up there.” 

He shrugged, unbothered. “True. But you need a friend and I need a friend, and the children of disgraced political leaders should stick together. It’s a long year ahead, and I’ve got a feeling we’re going to see a lot of each other, and my instincts are always right.” 

Genevieve clenched her jaw, resisting the urge to tell him to leave her alone. But she knew better than to push away potential allies, especially this early. As much as she hated to admit it, she might need someone like Liam far down the line. 

For now, she focused on the path, the Parapet going closer and closer with each step. The mist and dark clouds surrounded them, obscuring the edges of the cliff and the narrow stone bridge ahead. It loomed like a shadow, a narrow walkway stretching between life and death. 

Were the clouds darker, or was that her imagination? 

“Your turn next,” the tall man in front of Genevieve nearly barks as she reaches the top of the tower, Liam in tow behind her. She watches a flash of recognition and relief cross the taller man’s face as he sees Liam, but the expression is quickly masked. “Name?”

His eyes were dark, with flecks of gold swirling around like a dark storm, his hair was equally as dark and his skin tan. Good gods, that man is attractive. 

“Genevieve Hale” she responds, despite her swimming thoughts, she focuses on the bridge in front of her. They gesture for her to start, and she steps onto the straight stone bridge, the river raging beneath her. 

Genevieve’s heart pounds as she steps on the bridge, the turmoil in her own stomach was the fault of her own last name. The tall man’s gaze lingers on her briefly before shifting to the task at hand, his presence unsettling in more ways than one. Her own racing thoughts mirror the storm brewing around her, the intensity of the moment heightened by the onslaught of wind. It’s as if the sky itself has come alive to challenge her. 

The first raindrop feels like a memory, the coolness shocking her skin as if waking her from a deep sleep. She stands there, frozen, not by fear but by the sheer strangeness of it all. Rain? It’s been years since she felt it, and for a moment, she’s no longer on the parapet, but back in Aretia, running through the endless fields with her sister’s laughter chasing after her. 

Her heart clenches at the memory, bittersweet and far too fleeting. But her body remembers the movement, the joy of running free under the rain. Before she can even register the thought, her feet carry her forward, the world narrowing to just the stones beneath her and the storm above. The roar of the river below fades as the rain envelopes her senses, the wind catching her soaked hair and flinging it across her face. Her breath quickens, not from panic, but from something else–adrenaline, maybe, or a long-forgotten thrill. 

Her steps quicke, each more sure than the last, the fear of falling forgotten. The steady rhythm of her heartbeat pulses in time with the drumming of the rain on stone. One more step. One more step. She pushes forward, the bridge narrowing as the winds whip around her, but she feels no hesitation. Each footfall is a declaration against the storm, against the odds stacked high, against the months of being told what she couldn’t do. The storm becomes her dance partner, pushing and pulling but never breaking her stride. 

Somewhere in the back of her mind, she knows how dangerous this is—how one misstep could mean the end—but the knowledge is distant, buried beneath the raw exhilaration coursing through her. She blinks through the rain, eyes stinging, she’s halfway across the parapet. Her pulse thunders in her ears, and the river rages below in harmony with the beat of her own heart, but she’s not afraid. There’s no room for fear in his moment, only the rush of life flooding through her veins. 

Her breath shudders as the end of the parapet draws near, the final few steps ahead. She should be exhausted, shaken by the elements tearing at her, but she isn’t. There’s a strange, fierce joy in the struggle, in the feeling of pushing through when everything else wants her to stop. She presses on, heart steadying, and she knows that she’s already won something here. 

Stepping off the Parapet, she comes to a stop right in front of the roll keeper. 

“Name?” The man with the scroll asks, and she’s slightly short of breath, but she’s elated. 

“Genevieve Hale,” She breathes out, a smile painted on her face. 

“Hale?” The rider asks, his voice raising, and she quirks her brow. 

“Yes, Hale,” Her eyes narrow on his. “Is that a problem?”

“No, not at all,” He says. “Just wait in the main area, maybe you’ll find more people like… you.” 

And with that she was all alone, walking blind for a few moments. But in reality, it was the effects of adrenaline leaving her body. It ran its course, leaving her tired and empty, wandering the field around her. And while it was full of cadets, she was alone. 

“Hey! Hale!” Liam was already behind her, catching up with a grin that was entirely too bright for someone who had just crossed the Parapet. 

“See? Told you, no big deal.” He said, clapping her on the shoulder like they had been friends for years. 

Genevieve stiffened under his touch, but forced a small nod. “Yeah, no big deal,” She echoed, though her heart was still pounding in her ears. She couldn’t tell if it was the adrenaline from the Parapet or the excitement from Basgiath, but the rush was not fading. 

Liam walked beside her, unfazed. “You know, I was serious about what I said earlier. About needing allies. We’ll all be in the same fight soon enough, so it doesn’t hurt to make a few connections early on.” 

Genevieve exhaled slowly, eyeing the rest of the cadets gathering in the main courtyard ahead. The thought of relying on others grated at her—she’d learned the hard way not to trust anyone but herself. But Liam wasn’t entirely wrong. She could see the clusters forming, groups of cadets gravitating toward each other for safety, strength, or maybe just out of fear. 

“I don’t need alliances,” she said, though the weight of her words felt thinner than before. She glanced up at the towering spires of Basgiath ahead, and the uneasy knot in her stomach tightened. Graduation was still a long way off. The trails, the challenges—none of them would be fought alone. 

Liam gave a nonchalant shrug, clearly not offended by her coolness. “Maybe not yet. But don’t be surprised if you change your mind down the line.” 

He waved her a quick behind, flashing an easy grin at her while she watched him go, her arms wrapping around herself in the cooling air. She hated how easy he made everything seem. The confidence, the casual charm—it was as if Liam had been born into this world, while she was a stranger. 

The air was thick with anticipation, the murmurs of the crowd quieting as a commanding voice boomed from the front. 

“Three hundred and two of you have survived the parapet and have become cadets today,” Commandant Panchek’s voice rang out, smooth but laced with an unsettling edge. “Good job. Sixty-seven of you didn’t.”

A brief, unintended hush fell over the crowd—a fleeting moment of silence for the fallen, though the Commandant’s tone suggested he saw it more as a statistic than a loss. Death was part of the game, and Panchek was keen to remind them of that. 

“But as the Codex states,” Panchek’s voice rose again, sharp and commanding. “Now begins the crucible!” His words cut through the crowd like a blade, the excitement and fear of those around Genevieve palpable. “You will be tested by your superiors, hunted by your peers, and guided by your instincts. All the way to Threshing, where if you are chosen, you will become riders. We will see just how many of you make it to graduation.”

Genevieve scanned the sea of faces around her—confidence gleamed in some eyes, arrogance in others. Smirky, cocky grins, and the swagger of the untested. But Genevieve knew better. She didn’t come this far by being naive. She knew why so many cadets didn’t survive. The world they were stepping into wasn’t just dangerous—it was designed to break them. 

Panchek’s voice dropped to a final note of mock encouragement. “Good luck to you all. You are now in the hands of your Wingleaders.” 

With that, he turned on his heel, the rest of the staff falling in line behind him as they exited the stage. All that remained now was a brunette woman at the front, looking barely older than Genevieve. Her posture radiated authority despite her youth. 

“My name is Nyra,” the woman’s voice rang clear, cutting through the buzzing crowd. “I’m the senior Wingleader of this quadrant and the head of First Wing. Section leaders and Squad leaders, take your positions.” 

A flurry of movement rippled through the crowd as squad leaders moved to the front, joining Nyra and the other Wing leaders. Genevieve’s heart quickened, eyes darting to assess who was who, already mapping out the next phase of survival. She wasn;t stupid—there was no margin for error in this place. Every decision, every step, could mean the difference between life and death. 

Nyra’s voice called out the squads, her tone brisk and efficient. “First Squad, Claw Section, First Wing!” A tall man raised his hand, marking the squad’s position at the front. Genevieve watched as cadets began falling into line, tension mounting as names were called. She barely registered when Liam’s name when he was assigned to Second Squad, Tail Section, Fourth Wing. But then–

“Second Squad, Flame Section, Second Wing!” Nyra’s voice carried over the crowd, commanding attention. “Ridoc Gamlyn, Rhiannon Matthias, Violet Sorrengail…”

Genevieve’s heart lurched at the sound of that name. Violet Sorrengail. Her eyes narrowed, instincts flaring. 

“...Genevieve Hale.”

Fuck. 

So this is how it would go. She’d been expecting it—dreading it. Of course, they’d put her in the same squad as Violet. Fate had a twisted sense of humor. 

The thought shot through her mind like lightning. Her hands clenched at her sides, knuckles white. She’d been able to avoid even knowing that Violet Sorrengail existed for this long, but now? Now she was stuck. They’d be fighting side by side. She’d have to look Violet in the eyes every day. And worst of all, she knew one rule in the codex: she couldn’t kill a squadmate. 

Reluctantly, Genevieve made her way to the front of the squad, her gaze locking on Violet as he fell into line beside her. The tension was immediate, thick in the air between them. Violet turned to her, her expression unreadable but her concern clear in her voice.

“Are you okay?” Violet asked, her question soft, even tentative. Despite everything, Violet’s intentions seemed genuine, her worry over Genevieve’s well-being evident. No relic adorned Genevieve’s arm, signaling to everyone she hadn’t been targeted for retaliation. But the look in Violet’s eyes suggested to everyone that she knew the danger hadn’t passed. 

Genevieve’s smile was cold, a mockery of warmth. It didn’t reach her eyes, and the simmering rage behind her stare was impossible to miss. “No,” she said, voice low but sharp as a blade. “I’m not okay, because now that we’re in the same squad…” she leaned in slightly, her grin darkening. “I can’t kill you.”

—————————————

The summer sun blazed overhead, its relentless heat turning Genevieve’s pale skin even more vulnerable. After being confined for so long, the harsh light felt like fire on her skin. 

Xaden Riorson, who Genevieve now knew to be the wingleader of Fourth Wing, stood before them, speaking with authority, but Genevieve barely registered his words. Her mind drifted until the sound of her squad shuffling into motion snapped her back to reality. Dain Aetos and his squad, her squad, were being reassigned. She blinked in surprise. Now she was part of the Fourth Wing. With Xaden Riorson. How convenient. 

A quick glance at him showed an indifferent expression, while Liam looked genuinely thrilled that Genevieve was in his wing. But Genevieve’s stomach twisted. She had been so close to Violet Sorrengail. Tomorrow’s challenges would have given her the perfect opportunity to end the girl’s life, to take revenge, swiftly and cleanly. But no. Now, she had to wait. Three long years. She had to hope that Violet would survive long enough for her to finally strike. 

Riorson’s voice broke through her thoughts, booming with the weight of command. “You’re all cadets now,” he declared. “Look at your squad. These are the only people the Codex guarantees won’t kill you. But just because they can’t doesn’t mean others won’t. You want a dragon? Earn it.” 

Genevieve caught Violet’s eyes on hers, and her fists clenched. Some cadets cheered, but she remained silent. 

Riorson wasn’t finished. “I bet you feel pretty invincible right now, don’t you?” he goaded, sparking more cheers from the crowd. “Surviving the parapet, you think you’re untouchable! On your way to becoming elite. The few! The chosen!” His words whipped the crowd into a frenzy, but it was the sudden roar of wings that stole their attention. 

A riot of dragons descended, casting enormous shadows over the courtyard. The air vibrated with their power, and Genevieve’s breath caught in her throat. Gods, they’re magnificent, she thought, her heart aching with both awe and longing. She had only ever heard the sound of their wings echoing above her prison, distant and unattainable. But now, they are here, real and close. One day, if she survived, one of them might choose her. 

The dragons roared, and the world erupted into chaos. Screams filled the air as some cadets bolted, only to be incinerated by streams of fire. The stench of sulfur stung her nostrils. The red dragon was the first to strike, but the others followed, their jaws gleaming in the sunlight. Around her, the other cadets recoiled, panic spreading like wildfire, but Genevieve stood rooted to the spot, unflinching. She was terrified, but this wasn’t fear—it was beauty. 

How could anyone run from something so powerful, so divine. 

Xaden Riorson’s voice cut through her reverie. “Anyone else feel like backing out?” His gaze swept over the  crowd, what seemed to be his blue dragon looming behind him. “No? Excellent.” 

The rest of his speech faded into the background for Genevieve. It was all the same: You’ll die, you’ll struggle, you’re not special. She had heard it all before. 

Her entire focus was on the dragons. 

—--------------------------------------

Later, in the first-year dorms, Genevieve wandered alone. The large, empty hall felt stifling. Liam was three floors up with some brute named Jack Barlowe, who Violet had been complaining about earlier. She had no idea where to settle down until the girl standing besideViolet caught her eye and waved her over. 

“Hey! I’m Rhiannon Matthias,” the girl greeted her warmly, extending a hand. The girl was tall, with beautiful brown skin and neatly braided hair that cascaded down her back.. Her smile was inviting and gentle, as she waited for Genevieve to answer. “We’re in the same squad now. We should stick together.”

Genevieve glanced between Rhiannon and the empty bed beside her before setting down her mostly empty bag. She hesitated, torn between the friendly girl in front of her and the sour presence of Violet nearby. The tension twisted in her gut. 

“I’m Genevieve,” she finally responded, shaking Rhiannon’s hand with a small, tentative smile. “Genevieve Hale.” 

At the sound of her name, Violet’s gaze locked on her with a sharp intensity. Genevieve could feel the recognition settling over her like venom, burning through her skin. How Violet had missed her name when they were calling out squads was beyond her. 

“You’re Genevieve Hale,” Violet whispered, the weight of her words dripping with meaning. 

Genevieve’s mood darkened in an instant. “And what of it?” she snapped, her voice cold and cutting. Whatever pleasantness she had shown a moment ago vanished. 

Rhiannon, sensing the tension, placed a coming hand on Genevieve’s shoulder. “We’re all in the same squad now,” she said firmly. “The least we can do is be civil. Don’t you think so?” Her tone left little room for argument. “Now, Violet, introduce yourself.”

“I’m Violet—”

“Sorrengail. I know.” Genevieve’s voice was sharp, her words venomous. “Your mother is responsible for the death of my father. I’m not becoming your friend.” 

Rhiannon’s eyes widened at the words, clearly not expecting them. “So, you’re—”

“A rebellion kid?” Genevieve interrupted, her tone dripping with sarcasm. “No relic, see?” She yanked up her sleeve, showing her bare arm. “No, no, I’m something far worse.” 

Without hesitation, she pulled her shirt over her head, revealing the ratty sports bra and chest bindings she had managed to fashion from scraps. Across her back, a swirling, inky black mark twisted from her collarbones down to her waist, its dark tendrils crawling across her skin like a curse. At its center was an empty circle, a void of power that made her feel hideous. The scars on her back stood raised, a testament to the trials she suffered in becoming a weapon for her squadmate’s mother. 

“I’m the daughter of the disgraced General Philip Hale. Sister to the fallen riderQuinn Hale,” Genevieve hissed, her gaze locking onto Violet’s wide, horrified eyes. “My father was a traitor. But I’m not here for redemption. I’m here for justice. And you, Violet Sorrengail, are the key to making your mother pay.” 

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

Hey guys! I'm not really doing a strict upload schedule for this, just uploading when I have chapters ready, so heres chapter 2! I'm procrastinating doing my supplemental essays for my college applications by writing this, so there will be a lot more chapters coming soon. I hope you enjoy!

[silassinclair]

Hi!

Can I request Maddox with a darling who lives to read, maybe he catches her reading some old romance books in an abandoned house they shack up in or something like that

Btw I live your writing ♥️

As someone who loves to read I am obligated to write for this req 😤🫡 Thanks for the request tho!! Hope you like it :-)

Yandere Wild West Outlaw x Bookworm Reader

CW// Maddox is annoying, Reader being a little perv Masterlist Here!!

The new house Maddox found was lovely. It had decently okay furniture and a vast collection of old books on the shelf. It's small with only two bedrooms and one bathroom but it was charming. But what caught your interest was the big oak wood bookshelf. You couldn't even remember the last time you picked up a book. Being on the run with Maddox made time fly.

"Who would leave all these books behind? They're all in great condition." You mutter to yourself as you take a blue and purple book with gold trim off the shelf. Tracing your fingers down the spine of the hardcover novel you appreciate the craftsmanship. It was clearly expensive, something you could no longer afford. Your Dad bought you many books like these but now you were pretty much broke. You only had Maddox to rely on now.

Speaking of Maddox you had no clue where he was. Which you didn't really care, he always disturbed your peace. Cracking open the book you sit down on the loveseat and start reading. It was a romance book about a huntsman who fell in love with a duchess. The story was beautiful as it was exhilarating.

"Oh wow, you into that kinda stuff?"

You snap the book shut instantly, a mini cloud of dust poofs from the pages. Maddox chuckles huskily behind you, leaning down and resting his chin on the back of the loveseat.

"Oh don't be embarrassed princess, it was getting to the good part. What did it say again? Oh! Ahem-"

Maddox coughs into his hand and smirks. Deepening his voice he quotes the passage in a deep, British-like accent,

"He caresses the duchess' milky thighs, her womb felt of silk wrapped around his ma-"

"OH HUSH!" You whip around and smack the outlaw's head, his hat nearly flying off. But he only laughs at your flustered state.

"You're filthy." You groan and put the book back on the shelf where it was. But Maddox follows behind you and takes the book into his own hands and opens it up. Skimming through the pages he smirks.

"I'm filthy? Sweetheart you're the one readin' this junk." Maddox shuts the book and puts it back. Putting his hand up on the shelf he leans against it while looking down at your shorter self.

"Well it is a romance book." Rolling your eyes you choose a different book. This time you pick a title you're familiar with, Pride and Prejudice.

"Now leave me alone you brute. I'd like to relax for once." With that you walk away and go outside. Finding a nice tree you sit beneath it and read the book. Reading reminded you of home, the home that was ripped from you. In a way it was escapism which is unhealthy but a girl can dream right?

Hours pass and the sun begins to set, casting an orange glow across the cloudy sky. The words on the page become harder to read as the sun sinks lower and the moon rises. You didn't want it to end. You know you could read inside but that damn outlaw was inside. You just wanted to stay out here forever with the natural ambience of wind and birds.

Footsteps approach you and you already know who it is. Looking up you see him. Black denim jeans, a burgundy vest, twin revolvers around his waist, and a dark brown cowboy hat on his head. And of course that bandana covering the bottom half of his face. Anytime you asked him about his face he got ticked off so you avoided the subject. But you couldn't help but be curious.

"You're starin' sweetheart." His husky voice breaks the silence. There’s a hint of a Spanish accent mixed in with his Southern drawl. You can't help but think about what it would be like if you and him met under different circumstances. Would he save you from bandits? Offer to buy you a drink at the saloon?

Would you two have a storybook romance just like in the books you adore?

"Hey."

He's right in front of you now, crouched to your height. His gloved hand pets your hair and you're frozen. He has you in a trance that you make no effort to free yourself from. His dark amber eyes are crinkled in slight concern over your unusual silence.

"What..?" You say softly.

"It's gettin' dark. Unless you wanna be dinner for the coyotes then I suggest comin' back in. I'll cook up some beans so hurry your little bum up."

Well there goes the moment. You groan and get up off the grass, your back cracking as you stretch. Your eyes watch as Maddox walks back into the house. His hips sway as he walks, you never really payed attention to that before. His ass looks pretty round in those pants to-

"Ugh, what is wrong with me.." Groaning, you follow after him.

[thelov3lybookworm]

Remember me? (Part 9)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8

Summary: Under the Mountain, Y/n met the High Lord of the Night Court, Rhysand. She was scared of him, but soon she found out that he wasn't who he pretended to be. Despite her efforts at not falling in love with him, she fails. It's not that bad as he loves her back.

But now he's gone, and she's left alone with nothing.

Except for a very adorable reminder of him.

•○●⛦●○•

Tw: secret pregnancy, none more that I can think of, so let me know if I need to add anything.

A/n: Aight y'all. This thing contains some heavy themes i guess, so this one can be skipped if you want. this part is basically a filler chapter.

This picks up one month after the last part ended.

Andddd....

Here we go.

•○🌑○•

Feyre's pov.

Feyre was walking home from her art studio, Nyx hopping along next to her. The day was beautiful, not too bright, not too cloudy. It was a perfect day to go out with her family on a picnic and simply enjoy their company and thank the mother for her blessings.

Or at least it would have been a good day for that if her family hadn't been falling apart.

Rhys had been pulling away more than ever. He had become detached from reality, drinking his days away and being locked up in his office all day. He had become more snappy than ever, yelling and throwing a fit at the smallest inconveniences.

A few days ago, he had punched and cracked a wall because his food was too hot.

Rhys was... he going mad. There was no other was to put it.

He did not want to be talked to, and if he found someone looking at him for longer than a moment, he would snarl like a wild beast. His appearance had also become... worse.

He looked so sick, like he would drop dead at any moment.

A loud gasp drew Feyre from her thoughts, and she looked down to find Nyx staring wide eyed at a spot on the ground nearby.

"Nyx?" Feyre questioned gently, trying to get his attention.

Nyx snatched his hand away from his mother's, sprinting away when Feyre tried to grab his hand again.

"Nyx! What are you doing?"

She followed Nyx, walking briskly behind him. She slowed to a stop when he did, watching as the little boy bent down.

A moment later, he drew up again, a huge, adorable grin on his face.

In his hands was a smooth, white rock. He held it gingerly, both his hands cupped, like holding it too tightly would shatter the beautiful thing.

"Papa would love this mommy."

Her heart melted and shattered at the same time.

But she couldn't bring herself to tell him that Rhys probably wouldn't care, so far lost in his head was he.

"Yes darling, he would love it."

Nyx gave her a toothy grin in return, turning back to the ground as he searched for something. He bent down again, and when he came up this time, he held a smaller rock in his hand and held it out to Feyre.

"This one is for Finnie. I will give it to him when we meet again."

Feyre nodded, plastering on a smile for the sake of her son as she agreed to meeting Fin soon.

But deep down, she knew she wished the two boys never met again. Because there were only two circumstances under which they could meet, and neither were favourable.

The first would be if Y/n returned to the night court, and Feyre knew that wouldn't happen as Y/n didn't want Rhys to mess with her or her son's life ever again.

And the second would be if Feyre left Rhys.

And she wished that it never came to that.

It wasn't that she didn't believe Y/n. At first she hadn't, but then Y/n had showed Feyre her memories, and Feyre had to believe her, no matter how much she wanted it all to be a lie. Because fabricating someone's memories was too hard and even unheard of.

Feyre told herself Rhysand's weird behaviour was only the result of heartbreak, of finding out he had another son all along.

She hoped he would go back to normal, that one day he would wake up and realise how bad his condition had been becoming, how he had been weeping and wasting away for something he could never have and throwing away everything he did have for the illusion of happiness.

As she reached the door of the river house, she wiped away all her thoughts and simply focused on getting Nyx to go to sleep. Or do anything but stay away from his father.

Rhys would probably yell at the little boy if he was in a foul mood, and Feyre simply could not handle watching her son cry.

"Hey Nyx, why don't we make cookies? Would you like that?"

Nyx nodded happily. "Yes mommy. We can do that after I give papa this stone."

"No Nyxie. Can we not give papa the stone later? Or I can give it to him." Feyre offered.

Nyx held the stone away from Feyre, shielding it with his body as he frowned. "No. I will give it to papa."

Before Feyre could try more to convince him, he ran off, climbing the stair as fast as his ittle legs would carry him.

She followed him, making as little noise as possible. Because in the past few weeks, even the littlest noises had been triggering her mate's urge to destroy everything in sight.

"Nyx! Nyx, slow down!" She whispered, frantically reaching for him. He had already reached the landing, and now ran to his father's office.

The door was slightly ajar, and Nyx pushed it open the rest of the way in his haste to give the stone to his father himself.

Feyre reached the door, her heart beating in her throat, just in time to see Nyx reach his hands up, the stone cupped in them, towards Rhys, who was staring down at the little boy, his eyebrows raised.

Rhys took the stone, inspecting it carefully before a nonchalant look crossed his features, and Feyre immediately knew that he was going to throw the rock away and either yell at Nyx or dismiss him entirely.

Feyre didn't want to see her boy sad, and so she reached out with her daemati powers and knocked on the mighty walls of the fortress surrounding Rhys's mind.

He glanced up, irritation evident in his eyes, but he let her speak to him through a small window that he created.

Please don't hurt him. Please pretend.

Rhys cocked his head, and Feyre could practically see the wheels turning in his head, and a sense of dread gripped Feyre when a slow smirk spread across Rhysand's face.

Sure, Feyre. He purred in her mind before he looked down at the little boy, who stared up at his father with a hopeful smile on his face.

"This is beautiful, my boy. Thank you so much." And with that, Rhys pocketed the rock, and Nyx giggled, turning to Feyre with the biggest toothy grin ever.

"Mommy, are we going to make cookies now?"

Before Feyre could respond, Rhysand cut in. "How about you do it with Nuala and Ceridwen? I have an important thing to discuss with mommy."

Nyx nodded, then sprinted away to the stairs, and as Feyre watched him go, the dread coiling around her heart felt like a vise.

"What did you want to talk about?" She asked once Nyx was out of sight, and Rhys gestured at her to come in and lock the door. She did so without questioning him.

The moment the lock clicked shut, Rhys prowled forward, his hands landing on the sides of Feyre's shoulders, caging her in against the door. He leaned down, his hot breath washing over the side of her face as he whispered directly in her ear.

"It's been so long since we've had some alone time," A pause as he began to peel her clothes off of her. "Y/n darling."

•○🌑○•

Feyre stared at the beams of moonlight across the ceiling, tears running down the sides of her face and into her hair.

She was ashamed and disappointed in herself, and as she curled into a ball on her side, she considered peeling off her skin and setting fire to it.

She sniffled quietly, her mind refusing to think of anything but the past few hours, when Rhys had touched her, worshipped her like he were a devoted male and she a goddess.

Except hers was not the name he chanted in his prayers.

No, it was of his former lover, and for some reason, she had not been able to push him off of her or do anything to let him know she did not want him to touch her while he was lost in the thoughts of another female.

Rhys had wounded Feyre's heart for nearly half the night, and she could do nothing about it.

Worse were the way he'd rubbed salt on her wounds after the whole ordeal, telling her she was nothing compared to her. That Feyre could never be her, and that it really was a waste of time to have pursued Feyre to see if a mate was worth loosing Y/n over when he could have been with Y/n all along.

Every muscle in Feyre's body clenched as she tried to quiet her sobs so as not to wake him as he slept peacefully at her back.

Feyre didn't know what to do.

Slowly, her mind drifted to that day a month ago, when she and Y/n had talked, and Y/n had showed Feyre exactly what Rhys had done to her.

Feyre... you can come with us.

You can live with us.

Look Feyre, you are Nyx's mother. You know what's best for him. If you need time, then take some time. Think about this if you want. But leave him Feyre. He does not deserve you or Nyx.

I can't force you to come with us but... I beg you Feyre. Think about this. And when you are ready, write to me. I will ask Eris to make arrangements for your safe travel to autumn court.

Feyre sniffed, wiping her tears with her palms as her path forward became clearer.

Write to me.

A pen and paper appeared next to the bed on the nightstand, and Feyre picked them both up, scribbling down a quick message and then winnowing it away, hoping her friend was awake and found it.

Though that would be a miracle, as it was quite literally the middle of the night, and not many people stayed up crying over their pathetic lives.

But there was nothing else Feyre could do except hope, because anything else had been stolen away by her mate. The one who was supposed to never harm her.

With one last look at the sleeping form beside her, Feyre stood, gathering all her discarded clothes and pulling them on, trying not to cringe in embarassment.

Then, she grabbed a bag, stuffed all her clothes and Nyx's inside of it, especially all the expensive gowns of hers. She could maybe sell them to make a little extra money.

Just before se left her and Rhysand's room, her gaze snagged on a bundle of money Rhys stored in his drawer, and a plan formed in Feyre's mind, and her lips lifted in a small smirk.

It seemed that the meeting with Fin would happen sooner rather than later.

And that a visit to the bank was necessary.

•○🌑○•

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