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onri42 · 3 days

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how I manifested my dream life after years of overconsumption

hello! after being in this community for many years, hopelessly and endlessly trying to manifest the life of my dreams since i was a young teen, i can finally say i did it. i'm living the life i always wanted. this is my success story ٩( 'ω' )و (very long and detailed! + mentions of heavy topics)

how i did it: the journey

i initally found out about manifesting from a friend who told me about subliminals, then i became invested in law of attraction and soon, law of assumption.

for years I was in a nonstop cycle of overconsuming information, deciding to put my foot down and say "this is it", only go back spiraling in my negative thoughts & old story hours or even minutes later. this cycle lasted for years. i felt like the law could not be this easy, and heavily relied on my 3d for evidence/signs of my desire. i felt like there was always something else to do in the 3d (subliminals, scripting, vision board, etc) and was not satisfied in just believing in the unseen.

eventually, i became sick of it. i wanted my dream life so badly, i would cry myself to sleep some nights because of how badly i wanted to be free from my old story. i hated my old life, and was desperate for my new one.

i constantly reread the same edward art posts, tumblr posts, and success stories about the law and craved for something new, but at this point i already knew all i needed to know about the law. i had some success with the law of assumption in the past (manifesting my acceptance into uni, talking to a cute boy etc.) but getting my entire dream life felt like it was impossible. i knew i can get anything and everything i wanted, but honestly i was scared and felt like there was a barrier between me and my desire. yet, i held onto these feelings for years. at some point i even felt childish and the need to "grow up and be realistic" about what i wanted since everything around me was changing and i wasn't getting any younger. but i still held onto my dreams and desires, it was planted into my heart for a reason and I really wanted it to come true.

one day i was clearing out my phone and came across blushydior's success story of how she manifested her dream life in hard circumstances. i read her post again and really internalized what she said about the law.

in short, life is a blank canvas. the minute you decide what you want, it is done. there is nothing stopping you from getting anything you ever wanted because it is already finished. just keep persisting and accepting that it is done because it simply is; nothing else left to do.

so i decided to go all in. i didn't do much: just affirm that i had my desire when i thought about it and embody the state. during the first few days, i felt a wave of happiness and excitement whenever I affirmed for my desires. i knew i had them, and it made me happy. i didn't ignore my 3d, i simply lived through it. i did whatever i had to do in my 3d while still thinking "oh i already have my desire! nothing can stop me, it's all done!"

over time, the feelings of excitement faded and it became more of a feeling of security and calmness. i would still think thoughts like "oh yeah i have my desire, oh well whatever" and simply move on.

i will say though, in the middle i did kind of cave and want to fall into my old ways. i had the feelings of calmness but felt like there was something else left to do. i logged onto tumblr and scrolled over some of the posts i had saved, but didn't read them and rely on them for info. i had to force myself to snap out of feeling like I didn't have it and remind myself that i had it. when i felt overwhelmed with my 3d or faced something that i didnt like, i would remind myself of my desires being complete.

at night i'd also imagine romantic scenarios about me and my sp to fall asleep but i didn't do anything like try to get into sats or void (i tried them before and found them quite boring lol)

eventually after sticking to the assumption that i have my desires, regardless of what i see in the 3d, nothing can stop me from getting my desire because it's already done, i got them all. woke up with everything i want. this is what it means to persist: to take the leap of faith, go all in, and just keep on believing that you already have it!

the old and new story:

old story: I grew up in a very restrictive lifestyle with little freedom and privacy in my house, as well as super traditional and religious parents that made me feel uncomfortable in many areas of my life. my life was primarily just me taking care of my annoying younger siblings and studying to get good grades so I could make my parents happy. I did not have much success with maintaining friendships, no luck in the love department, and disliked who I was as a person for much of my life. I was completely dependent on my parents and wanted their approval for everything; it felt like I was living and doing all of these activities to make them proud, even though they never told me they were. anything that I wanted to pursue I shut down before even trying because I knew they would not approve. I was also constantly being pushed into these religious spaces that made me super uncomfortable due to their beliefs and have been verbally and physically abused in the name of so-called religion. I was living a life that I did not want, by finding the law it gave me an opportunity to live my own life for once.

new story: appearance transformation from head to toe, apartment and houses of my dreams in my desired cities & countries, talents, skills, and knowledge about topics I was curious about, language fluency, ideal wardrobe with all my dream clothes, items on my wishlist, having financial freedom, being free, independent, and in charge of my life, having the boyfriend of my dreams (guys he is so fine like omg), completely revamping and rewriting my past, having a tight knit friend group and the biggest one of all, the thing i wanted for so long -- being a famous musical artist in one of the biggest girl groups in the world <3

i am so so so glad i never gave up, it really is easy.

the law in summary:-

decide what you want to manifest

have faith and know that you already have your desire, it is done and nothing can stop you from getting it (remember! methods are optional)

just persist, do not give up. it will manifest into the 3d! nothing else left to do.

good luck everyone, you can do it and i believe in you <3

#law of assumption #success story #neville goddard #void success #manifesting #manifestation #affirm and persist #law of attraction #master manifestor #loa success #loassumption #loa tumblr

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spaghettioverdose · 2 days

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I've never really talked on here about how I figured out my gender, and since this whole egg discourse is going on, I feel like I should.

I'm not one of the trans women who figured out their genders at age 4 and became fully confident of it. Up until around 16 I didn't even begin to consider that I may not be a cis guy and it took me up until almost 19 to fully realise I was a trans woman. Before this, at 18, after feeling particularly shitty for weeks (from what I later learned was definitely dysphoria), I attempted suicide.

I only really started to understand myself once I started hanging out with other trans people on discord servers. My perception of transness was the more mainstream-accepted version (at that time) of "I always confidently knew I was a woman basically from birth and I exhibited x, y and z feminine behaviours at all times etc." which I didn't fit in with, so I always thought "well I can't be a trans woman because that's not me". Being around other trans people, and especially having other trans women point out behaviours I had, and tell me "that's also how I thought before I realised I was trans" helped me immensely.

I didn't get any of the rigid online definitions and examples, nor did I get the perfectly sanitised videos from the handful of trans people who made it on youtube. None of that felt like me at the time. I didn't have any point of reference. I only really understood myself once I related to someone who used to be in the same position. If some trans girl didn't call me an egg, I might still be a completely miserable "cis" guy to this day still, or even dead.

I understand that others have had worse experiences when it comes to this, but we must recognise that the problem in these situations is outing or harassment. The porblem is abuse, and as with all things interpersonal, you can always turn it into abuse. As with all things interpersonal, you have to have some amount of tact and caution.

I don't think we should harass anyone into getting their egg cracked (and this happens vastly less often than people here seem to think but it does happen), but also we shouldn't be constantly agnostic about if someone is trans or not, because in the end not everyone is capable of coming to that conclusion by themselves, and by the time you've "let them figure it out" they might've spent several more years being miserable and not knowing why or they might be dead.

It is also very important to point out that this discourse is only really happening because there is a particular bias against trans women. This isn't a discussion of how to approach the subject, or a handful of people talking about their experiences with it, it's a discourse where one side is trying to problematize another aspect of the transfem community. Notice that people are arguing this when it comes to transfems and not cis gay people or even transmascs. Notice that this website always cycles back to attacking some aspect of the transfem community every couple of weeks.

Do you really think these arguments are being made in good faith? Do you really think it's worth adding to the sea of transmisogyny that is this website and most of the world?

As always, this post is meant for people who are genuinely well-meaning. The dipshits who keep jumping on any excuse they can to harass trans women can go fuck themselves.

#transmisogyny #long post

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odinsblog · 2 days

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“I'm observing such a huge gap between different social groups that I didn't even realize were different. I, you know, most of my friends are in the media. A lot of my journalist friends are just much better informed.

A lot of them have had experience reporting in Israel, Palestine, and are quite critical of both Israel and the antisemitism narrative. Then, like, my wife is a lawyer, and her circle is a little bit different, right? It's not dominated by media people, like people in the law or in other professions seem to be broadly much more kind of taken by the sense of profound insecurity and shift in the American Jewish experience.

I think we sort of see different things, for example, when we watch the hearings in Congress on antisemitism on campus.

The university presidents, of which there have now been two hearings, one with three presidents, one with the president of Colombia, and there will be many, many more. And what I see is a right-wing campaign against higher education that is weaponizing antisemitism as an idea, right? Not antisemitism as a practice.

And what they see is, with the possible exception of the president of Colombia, is people who represent institutions or lead institutions that they feel an affinity with, often institutions that they graduated from, who are not standing up for them. Which I find that viewing of those hearings somewhat shocking because people seem to be turning off their critical faculties. But people, intelligent, educated, politically astute people don't turn off their critical faculties unless they're scared.

So I think the underlying fear is real. But just because it's real, it doesn't mean it's justified.

I think a factual account of what we're seeing on campuses now is that this generation of Americans is far more critical of Israel than their parents' generation. And this is true of both Jews and non-Jews. I think that they look at information available to them and they see a 57-year brutal illegal occupation.

And they don't understand how it's possible that their parents and the politicians that their parents support and the politicians who come and give commencement addresses and all that other stuff that I can say about politicians, how it is possible that these people support that state? I think that is an entirely understandable view. It also reflects a huge generation gap.

I think some of those young people are assholes, and some of them are antisemites. I think it's a small minority of the protesters, and it is not actually part of the critique. The protesters' demands, the protesters' organizing beliefs are not in any way or shape antisemitic.

And then there are Jewish students who were brought up Zionist, who were brought up to identify strongly with the state of Israel, who are, I think, a little bit like my cousin in the settlements again. They see these protests, and even probably the participation of their fellow Jewish students in these protests, as threatening their core identity, as threatening their ties to their families, as threatening everything that they were taught for the first 18 years of their lives is true. And of course they feel rattled, of course they feel unsettled, of course they feel threatened.

Like, wouldn't you, if you felt that everything you had believed in was being turned on its head, and if you, by apparently reasonable people? And so you have a couple of options. One is to look at what the protestors are saying, to engage with the facts, to engage with the critique of everything you've ever believed.

There was a terrific, George Curran's podcast a couple of weeks ago with three Columbia students, one of whom sort of narrated that kind of trajectory, getting to university and finding this stuff out and having their mind blown. That's a very difficult path, and it's a very difficult path, especially if you are, say, a first year student in 23, 24.

And then there's the easier path of staying integrated in your community, in your beliefs, and saying this is antisemitic.

Because unfortunately the things that the protestors are talking about are so horrible that you can't say, okay, let's agree to disagree, that you can't hold both of these things in your mind at the same time.

You can't continue to hold your family's uncritical, long-standing support of Israel, and an understanding of what is happening in Gaza and the occupation that has preceded the war in Gaza.

So yeah, of course they feel rattled. That doesn't mean that they're being surrounded by antisemitism.”

—Masha Gessen, the descendant of Holocaust survivors, discusses campus protests (part 3 of 3)

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pinkyqil · 2 days

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Lucy bronze x reader please :)

Reader and Lucy have been together for years but are still not out to the fans and so. Reader wants to have that openness. Lucy wants to be more private. So a heated discussion is formed between the too. Some angst ending in fluff

What are we // lucy bronze x reader

You and lucy had been dating for years now in secret. fans not knowing anything at all only spectating from the sidelines or when you both would hint a your relationship without people being able to connect the dots.

Well you were tried of always having to be private. you wanted to be able too have the closeness that other couples had when posting there significant other.

You wanted to post lucy and her doing the same.doing couple dumps being able to post each other's matching outfits, date days pictures, post about each other's your miles stones or instead want the public to know that you both were together if that was it.

Lucy on the other hand wanted to have things private which you respected at first. but thinking about it made you feel like she doesn't want people to know your together or she's ashamed of being with you.

you decided to ignore those thoughts. and would try bringing up how you want to open your relationship to the public more. Letting them know you both are together. which you plan on doing this night as lucu would be taking you out to both's of your favorite restaurant.

The night arrived where you and Lucy arrived at the restaurant everything was going well she was always treating you like a goddess who's feet just landed on earth.

"You always teat me so well". you told her

"If I didn't who was gonna do it huh". She told you while rubbing your hands with hers.

"Your honestly the best".

"All because of you baby". She said.

It took you a while before getting anything out of your mouth which lucy noticed how tense you got during your conversations when she asked if you were okay.

"You okay baby your body feels tense". She told you.

"Yeah I just got something to tell you". You told her.

"What is it you can always tell me anything".

"Well I was thinking maybe we should be more open about our relationship to the public".you told her.

"What I thought you we're happy with our private life".

"I'm it just that it would be nice to let our fans know about us". You told her back.

"I know that what you want but I'm not just ready".

You were starting to get really irritated at licy right now cause it would always be the same excuse she wasn't ready or how would other's think of you both.

"Oh my god lucy I'm your fucking finance and it wouldn't hurt for you to let people know". You yelled at her ignoring the looks you were getting

"Baby please calm down we can talk about this somewhere more private". she told you

"Always fucking private with you never wanting to deal with things now if your ashamed of us just say so you don't need to be coming up with all these bullshit excuses". You told her

"Baby don't say that of course I'm proud of us".

"Don't call baby me cause if you we're actually proud you'd want people to know". With that you left the restaurant before lucy could say anymore.

You arrived at your shared apartment pissed off and decided to head too bed but instead you caught yourself looking at pictures of you and Lucy together that you would love to share but instead didn't.

You heard the front door open deciding not to deal with lucy you turned of your phone fake sleeping not wanting to deal with her. not realizing you fell asleep pretty quickly.

The next day came quickly you did your best ignoring lucy the whole even though you both lived together doesn't mean you couldn't.

lucy had enough with you ignoring her and decided to end whatever silent treatment you were giving her.

"Okay I get that your angry about yesterday and how it was handled but we can't do this if your here not communicating with me". she told you

"You made it pretty clear to understand yesterday that you're ashamed of us as a couple and I'm taking time to that".

"If you'll listen to me I'm not ashamed of us I just don't know what to expect you know how the public gets and I can't stand to see get hate from it".

"I know baby but you can't always stop what other people are gonna say at the end of the day it just gonna be just me and you".

"Yeah I'm sorry for the way I handled things last night".she told you

"Me too sorry for yelling and cursing you out".

"It okay I lowkey deserve it".she told you before pulling you into a kiss.

"Lucia".you whined

"How about we post those pictures you want huh". she told you.

"Really you better not be joking with me lucy bronze".

"Really anything for my favorite girl". she said

"You're the best". You told her before jumping to your phone and deciding on what pictures to use and how to caption it. all in a days work let's just say everything went semi successful.

yourusername&Lucybronze

8 years with you and more to come liked by alexiaputellas lj10 mariona80 leahwilliamson

Comments limited

lj10 freaking finally 🙌

Leahwilliamson look at you both can't wait for the wedding

Alexiaputellas 💝

Woso.fan ik it amazing couple 👭

Bethmead we see you both

Alexgreenwood can't wait for wedding of the year 😍

lucyfan208 I thought she was with ona

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not-neverland06 · 21 hours

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How About A Nuke?

Part I / Part II / Part III / Part IV / Part V / Part VI / Part VII

The ghoul x fem!reader A/N: I see a lot of comments talking about how you guys wished they would just communicate. They are communicating its just that neither of them know what they want. Summary: All you want is to just be clean. He offers to show you a nice little spot where you can finally scrape the grime off of you. What could go wrong?

“So,” you shifted your bag further up your arm. You were favoring the left today on account of the giant gap he had left in your right bicep. You were still pretty pissed off about that. “Do you ever, you know, bathe?”

He looked over his shoulder at you, he seemed caught off guard by the question. “Bathe?” He repeated, face raised in surprise.

You rolled your eyes and nodded, “Yeah, bathe. I’ve been out here over a week. I’ve got about twenty layers of blood and sand stuck in every crevice.” Your skin crawled thinking about the different types of bodily fluid you’d been sprayed with since coming out of the cryo pod.

There was a lot of blood, of course, but Hollywood doesn’t show everything that gets excreted in death. You were itching for a good shower. You know that’s out of the question, but there’s got to be something.

He laughed and ripped off a piece of jerky. He offered you some, grinning when you shook your head. “Buckle up, sweetheart, you’re in for a rude awakening. You can always use the water, but that’s a waste of Radaway if you ask me.” You should have known. It’s not like anyone you’d encountered seemed particularly gung ho about personal hygiene, but you had hoped there would be something.

You reached down, digging your nails into your arm and scratching off flakes of blood and who knows what else. You shouldn’t have bothered, though, it only made the rest of you feel a hundred times worse. You looked crazy, scratching at yourself like a dog but you couldn’t help it.

“Alright, damn, I’ll give you some of my Radaway, you look half rabid.”

You stopped with your scratching and stared at him in shock. “You’ll give me some of your Radaway?”

He rolled his eyes, stopping only when he noticed you’d quit walking. “Is that not what I said?”

You crossed your arms and glared at him, “You’re not exactly known for your generosity. What’s the catch?”

He frowned and clutched at his chest like you’d actually done damage, “Now, that hurts darling. I’m just trying to help you out.” He turned around, walking to the right now, further towards greenery and away from the desert. “Plus, it’ll get rid of that fucking smell.”

You kept your mouth shut but he was one to talk. He hadn’t exactly tasted wonderful when he’d kissed you. Nor did he smell amazing. Still, he had made your heart race and it wasn’t from pure terror for once. Though, any positive feelings he’d caused within you had been negated the second he dropped you to the dirt like a used up toy.

You knew better than to try and bring it up to him, but it had stung. Attacked that vulnerable part of you that made you want to put up walls so high even the sun couldn’t get through.

With no other choice you sped up and caught up to him. Your hip was still bothering you, but it wasn’t dragging behind you as much as it was a few days ago. The only thing really bugging you now was your throbbing arm. He’d assured you that it couldn’t rot, he’d dealt with that, but that didn’t stop it from hurting like a bitch.

“Through here is a lake you can use.” He pointed towards the area where the trees started to thin out.

You looked at him skeptically, “You’re really letting me do this?”

He scoffed and glared at you, “The fuck did I tell you?” You don’t know if he’s talking about his new rule to stop questioning him or about giving you the Radaway, but you keep your mouth shut anyway. He hasn’t been as much of a dick today and you’d rather keep it that way.

“Here,” he motions through the trees and you stumble into an abandoned neighborhood. It’s been submerged in water, you can spot some old apartment buildings peeking up through the top.

Briefly, you wonder if you’ve ever passed your old home and just never realized it. You dismiss the thought as quickly as it comes, not willing to let your mind linger on thoughts like that today.

You slowly make your way to the water, still not entirely trusting of his intentions. He’s made it clear he’s keeping you around for the long haul, but that doesn’t mean he’s stopped tormenting you. “You’re really gonna let me use your Radaway?” You call over your shoulder.

He sighs and leans against the trunk of a tree. “Get your ass in the water, I won’t wait around all day.

You’re not dumb enough to fully submerge yourself in radiated water. You just rip a piece of your shirt off and dunk it into the startlingly blue lake. You use it to scrub yourself down, rubbing your arms until they’re raw and feel clean enough.

You shuffle closer to the water, trying to bend over enough to scrub your face a bit. But when you gaze down into the water you find something gazing back up at you. You scream, scrambling back just as that thing leaps out of the water and towards you.

Something pink and wet slams into your chest and knocks the air out of your lungs. You grope blindly in the mud for your gun as it opens its mouth. Horror and disgust fill you when you see what’s in its mouth, human fingers dangle like disgusting uvulas. It darts forward, jaw posed to clamp around your whole face.

A loud bang echoes through the lake. The thing goes flying back and causes ripples to drift across the surface of the water. You clutch your chest, trying to get your breath back and scoot closer to get a better look at whatever attacked you. It’s the size of your torso and looks startling like some deformed axolotl. He’s left a large bullet hole in the middle of it’s head deformed head.

“What the fuck?” You whisper, shakily getting to your feet and groaning when you realize whatever you’d manage to clean off had been replaced by a thick layer of mud.

You turn around, hoping for some sort of explanation from him, but he’s just bent over laughing, gun still smoking. You grab your bag out of the muck with a huff and glare at him. “Really?”

He straightens up, still grinning and shakes his head. “You should have seen your face, you were petrified.”

”Well, I’m glad someone enjoyed that.” You glare down at the corpse, eyes wide with horror, “It’s got fucking fingers in it’s throat. Human fingers!” He saunters over to you, entirely too pleased with himself. He grabs his inhaler out of his bag and loads it with Radaway. He tosses it over to you and you catch it with your good arm. “You knew that was going to happen, didn’t you?” You press down and take in a deep breath, ignoring how bitter the juice tastes.

“Never trust anything, rule number one of the Wastelands darling. Can’t even trust the water.” There was a loud roar off towards the middle of the lake and he nodded his head back towards the tree line. “Come on, that one was just a baby Gulper. Momma’s gonna be by soon and I can’t imagine she’ll be real happy.” He walks off without you and you’re stuck staring at the dead mutant.

“That was a fucking baby?” He laughs at you again and when you catch up with him, you can't help but laugh a little yourself. You probably looked ridiculous, wrestling in the mud with what, apparently, was only an infant.

He grins at you, “You got a lot to learn.”

You roll your eyes, “Yeah, I know.”

He’s kneeled down beside you, fingers prodding at the reddened area around your wound. It feels a bit better now, more like touching a fresh bruise rather than raw nerves. He poured some water from his canteen over the area and retied the bandage. He stood up and moved away from you while you dug around in your bag for another ration bar.

“Fuck,” you mutter under your breath. You’ve got the bar positioned between your knees, and you’re trying, hopelessly, to open it up with one hand. Your fingers, now dusted with dried mud, slip uselessly against the packaging.

He looks up at you and lets out a loud sigh. “Give it here.”

”I’ve got it-”

“Give. It. Here.” You huff but toss the bar over to him. He rips it open in one smooth move and throws it back to you. You catch it with your good hand and take a large chunk out of it. It feels like rubber and tastes oddly like dried out meatloaf. You’re not exactly sure what flavor it’s supposed to be replicating, but you figure it’s so old it doesn’t really matter as long as it fills you up.

He pours some water from his canteen onto a ripped piece of cloth and tosses it at you. You’re unprepared, bar in hand and midchew, it slaps against your face and you scowl under the fabric. “Really?” You mutter, mouth half full. You yank it off your face and give him a questioning look.

“Just clean yourself up.”

You drag it across your face and arms, trying to get off as much residual mud as you can. Your clothes are a stained, lost cause, but this will do for now. Not like you’re going to get much better without going up against some mutant monster.

“You’re being nice today?” It comes out like a question more than anything. Probably because you’re having trouble trusting him, especially after the Gulper incident. You wished you could say you can’t believe he would do something like that, but you’re pretty sure he’d been hoping the mom would get you, not the baby.

He shrugged and leaned back against a fallen log. “Feelin’ chivalrous.”

You hummed but didn’t push. You forced down another lump of your ration and reached for your water. “Where are we heading anyway? Been walking for a long time but we haven’t seem to have gotten anywhere.”

“There’s a compound I took a bounty for. We’re on our way to deliver it.”

You tilted your head as far back as you could, tongue out and hoping to catch the remaining drops of your water. “Shit,” you tossed the canteen back in your bag, already knowing it was hopeless.

“Ah, hell,” you glanced up and saw Cooper rifling through his supply box.

“How are you on Radaway?”

He sighed and chucked the box back into his bag. “Got two vials left.” He ran his tongue along his teeth, a pensive expression on his face.

You sighed and rubbed idly at some mud left on your fingers. “You’re gonna need more soon.”

He cut you off with a sharp laugh. “Faster than soon, this is the diluted shit.” He rubbed at his chest and you wondered if he was already starting to feel the effects of being so low on the medicine. You can’t believe he gave you a vial of his own with so few left.

Bastard must’ve really wanted to see you get jumped by a gulper. Your face twisted up in distaste and any twinge of sympathy you’d felt for him dissapeared. You wished he would cough so hard he’d choke on his tongue, at least then you wouldn’t have to listen to his bullshit anymore.

He looked over at you and then your bag. “Got any of that purified water left?” You shook your head, crumpling the wrapper of your bar up and tossing it somewhere behind you,

“Just ran out, not sure where I’m gonna find more.”

He chuckled and stood up, slinging his bag over his shoulder. “I do,” you stood up and grabbed your own bag, following behind him.

Loud laughter and rowdy conversation drifts into the night air. You sit perched behind a large boulder, staring into the building across from you. It’s an old supermarket, refurbished to fit the Wastelanders' needs. “They’ll have what we need?”

He doesn’t look at you, his sight is dead set on the men milling about in front of you. They’re clearly guards, switching positions every couple of minutes and loaded to the teeth with weapons. Cooper silently tracks them, eyes darting between them as they switch positions yet again.

“Yep,” he lifts up into a squat and watches as one of the men turns his back to lace up his boot. “Now!” He grabs you by the sleeve of your jacket and drags you along as he weaves between the guards. He throws you in front of him, practically tossing you inside the store.

You hold back your gasp of shock and duck behind a waist-high shelf. There are only seven or eight men walking around inside. They’ve got a fire burning in the middle of the store, the empty shelves pushed back against the walls. Behind them is about the largest pile of supplies you’ve seen since being up here. They could give Ma June a run for her money.

You peek your head over the shelf and try to get a look at just how many weapons they have. You hear the familiar sound of spurs walking behind you and twist immediately to see Cooper walking calmly towards the group with his hands raised in surrender. He catches your eye and winks before he fully addresses them.

“Gentlemen!” You sigh and sink back against the shelf, an irritated look on your face. The shelf screeched forward slightly and you scrambled off it, you caught Cooper twitch a little in irritation but he didn’t say anything. He’s been fully noticed at this point, the others all glaring at him with their guns raised.

He had a full view of all eight men from his perspective. What he couldn’t see, which you could, was a ninth man sneaking up behind him with a knife. He had it poised, aiming to strike right through the back of Cooper’s neck.

Without thinking too much on it, you leapt out of your hiding spot and used your good arm to point your gun in the man’s face. He came to a stop almost cartoonishly, eyes wide and the knife in his hands trembling when you popped out.

Cooper barely gave you a glance out of the side of his eye and you figured he knew all about the ninth man. He must have been testing you, see if you really had his back. “Hey!”

“Who the fuck is she!”

“What are you doing here?”

You ignored the sounds of their voices, you kept the gun trained on the boy and motioned him towards the left of the room. He followed, letting you guide him backwards until he was scrambling to hide behind his friends. It’s then that you finally got a good look at just how many guns were trained on you.

One of them pumped their shotgun and you pulled back the hammer of your gun. Cooper’s guns were still tucked away in their holster, it was just you and however much firepower they could cram between ten pairs of hands.

“Now, I suggest that you gentlemen put those guns down or my friend here is gonna get a little too friendly with her trigger.”

One of them scoffed, gesturing with the barrel of their pistol towards your right arm hanging limply by your side. “She got a bad arm and a shaking hand.”

“Maybe,” you call out, “but I got a working finger. I only need one of ‘em to kill you.”

Before he can respond there’s another one stepping forward. “She can get real friendly with me.” He’s got a lecherous grin on his face and a look in his eyes that makes your skin crawl. You sigh, sick of the men up here being so predictable, and turn your gun on him. His eyes widen, like he hadn’t seen you pointing it at his friends, and you pull the trigger.

Your aim is a little off and the recoil is harder to handle with only one hand available to you, but you’ve got a sawed off shotgun in your hand, don’t have to have a great aim to kill a man with that. His twitching body has barely hit the ground before you’re diving to the right and ducking behind a shelving unit.

Cooper goes to the left, eyes wide in the same astonishment as those men. Bullets started flying the second their friend was on the ground. They were shouting all sorts of insults and threats at you but it was hard to make out over all the shooting.

“You shot him!” Cooper shouted over the hail fire of bullets.

You rolled your eyes and did your best to reload the gun with your wobbly hand. “He pissed me off,” you shouted back at him. You leveled the gun over the top of the shelves and fired blindly. There was a loud yelp and then another Bitch shouted at you, so you must have hit something.

“You know, I was trying to handle this civilly,” Cooper jumped to his knees and turned around quickly. He fired off a quick succession of shots, four bodies dropped as he did. The rate of gunfire slowed a bit as more men fell. He ducked down and ran across the room, throwing himself down next to you. He tossed his guns at you and tugged yours out of your hand. “Reload me,” you nodded and tugged some bullets out of his bandolier while he used your gun to shoot at them.

“I’m sure you handling it civilly would have ended the exact same fucking way.”

He grinned and sat back next to you, “Well,” he shrugged, “maybe. Maybe not, doesn’t matter now.” You handed him his reloaded guns and he dropped yours in your lap. “Only a few left, use the shelves as cover and circle around behind ‘em.” He didn’t stay to make sure you understood his plan, he immediately set off, drawing the fire away from you and making a run for it.

“Shit,” you hissed, struggling to your feet and following his instructions. With only a few of them left it should have been quick work to get rid of the last few stragglers, but the guards from outside had heard the scuffle and were rushing in. Cooper shot most of them but one got close enough to snatch his gun from his hands and throw it to the floor.

Cooper struggled against the man, his towering form easily overpowering Cooper. Though, your friend didn’t seem particularly worried, if anything it looked like he was letting the man live to draw out the fight, like he was enjoying it.

You were going to just leave him to it when you saw the same bastard from before with the knife sneaking up behind him again. You rush forward, scooping up Cooper’s gun as you go and shove the man backwards.

He grunts at the impact but he refused to be deterred. He charges at you, eyes red with rage and blackened mouth frothing like a rabid dog. You try and keep your guard up but you’ve got a gimp leg and a useless arm, it’s not a fight you’re going to win.

He wraps an arm around your waist and yanks you into him. You grunt, breathing out slowly as you feel his knife slide into your gut. You glance down at the rusted blade and shove your gun under his chin. His eyes widen when you draw the hammer back but you don’t flinch when you pull the trigger, not even when chunks of skull and hair start raining down on you.

Cooper must have finally noticed the tussle happening behind him because he draws his second gun out from under his coat and ends his little fight with the last of them. You must be in shock, you still haven’t fully experienced the pain that you should.

There’s a knife sunk past the handle slammed into your gut, you should be feeling something shouldn’t you? You’re sure it’s the adrenaline still pumping through you. Your body is warm from how fast your blood is pumping, your ears ringing from all the gunshots and head spinning from the amount of blood steadily leaking out of the wound.

“Hey,” you turn around to face him and his eyes widen ever so slightly. You lose your footing and he darts forward, quick arms grab you and draw you into his chest. You clutch onto the sleeve of his jacket, letting all of your weight rest on him while you try and get your panicked breathing under control.

You’ve had worse injuries than this. As hard as it is to believe, in your time up here, you’ve survived a lot worse than some measly stab wound.

So why does this feel so fucking bad?

“Oh,” you moan in pain, nearly doubling over. A feeling like a million exposed nerves being set on fire stops you from falling to the floor, instead you push off Cooper and struggle to your feet.

“Alright, come on,” he grabs your arm again and you have the ridiculous urge to just shove him off you. Your head is swimming, you feel like you could float away. You look down at the knife again and finally realize just how large it is. One of those hunting ones that was about the width of your hand curled into a fist.

Well, fuck.

“Hey,” he snaps when you stumble away from him again. “Sit your stubborn ass down, you need help.” He yanks on the straps of your shirt, holding you up and dragging you to a chair, you don’t have much choice as he forces you to sit. Though, the motion causes a wave of excruciating pain to flare through you.

He kneels in front of you and rips your shirt open, you’re in too much pain to complain about it right now. He hums low in the back of his throat as he takes in the wound. With no warning whatsoever he grabs the knife by the handle and yanks it out like he’s ripping off a fucking bandaid.

You nearly scream, lurching forward and shoving him away from you. The sudden shock of pain has left you half blind and panting like an animal. “What the fuck was that?” You force out through gritted teeth. He plants a hand on your shoulder and presses you firmly against the back of the chair.

“Need to get you a Stimpak.” He takes your hand in his and presses it against the wound. Where blood was once oozing, it’s now gushing. You hadn’t realized just how much keeping the knife in had kept the blood at bay. With how rapidly it’s leaving you now you’re afraid.

You’re afraid that you might not be able to make it back from the edge with just a Stimpak. You can already feel your fingers going cold, pretty soon you won’t be able to flex them and then you’d lose feeling in your arms too.

“Hey,” he uses the grip he has on your hand to press down on the wound. You groan but he keeps the pressure steady. His eyes bore into your dazed ones, some odd expression in them. “You don’t get to give up. Keep pressure on this, understand me?” Your head flops forward in a lazy nod.

He could have been gone for a minute or an hour, you wouldn’t have been able to tell the difference. Your head is foggy, coherent thoughts replaced by loopy ones. You’re struggling to remember where you are or what you’re supposed to be doing.

Just as your hand slips from the wound, he comes back. He grabs your hand and places it back, holding it there with his own. You appreciate the way he warms your fingers back up, but the rest of you is freezing too. Maybe he’d share his jacket.

The thought of him sharing anything makes you laugh and he gives you a frustrated look. “Don’t go losing it on me. Not yet at least.”

You lean forward, face nearly pressed against his and grin. “You know, I haven’t heard a thank you yet.”

He scoffed, opening the Stimpak with one hand and preparing the injector. “Yeah, for what?”

“Saving your life, dick.”

You’re caught off guard when he slams the needle into your stomach, your lips part with a silent gasp and you wince at the cool rush of medicine. He grins at you, “Well, thank you for being the only dumbass to get herself stabbed in a gun fight.”

The medicine works fast, you learned that from when he’d shot you. You can already start to feel the pulse of blood slowing and your head clearing up slightly. “Asshole,” you hiss, leaning away from him. But his eyes stay trained on you, on both of your blood covered hands and where they still rest, linked together, on your stomach.

You find yourself taking advantage of his distraction to really look at him. It bothers you, how after everything, his eyes are still so pretty. It’s the first thing that drew your attention when you were younger. Those eyes of his had you swooning from the first time you saw him on the big screen.

He catches you but you can’t find it in yourself to care. There’s something odd in the air, a lingering tension from the kiss you’d never discussed. From the silent partnership you’d never voiced. You’d nearly gotten yourself killed for him tonight, the thought finally seemed to be dawning on him.

His eyes drop to your lips and he leans in. He doesn’t get very far, lips just barely brushing yours before you’re jerking back in surprise. You’re bleeding out in his hands and he kisses you? Your hand is up and cracking across his cheek before you can think about it.

His head whips to the side with a satisfying crack. He lets out a breathy chuckle, using his free hand to soothe the area you’d hit. He stretches the tension out of his jaw and shakes his head before he looks at you again.

Maybe he shouldn’t have kissed you. You definitely shouldn’t be further entertaining his ideas that he holds any sort of possession for you, but you’d just realized what that look in his eyes had been earlier. He had been worried about you.

Cooper has always been the one who protected you. Not the other way around. And as twisted as he’d become, it still relatively remained the same dynamic today. You’d caught him off guard earlier, putting yourself in danger like that for him. And he had been worried about you.

You grab him by the collar of his jacket and drag him forward before he can decide what to do with the fact that you slapped him. Your lips meet again and he hovers over you on your chair. The hand on your stomach pushes harder against you, deepening the pressure and making you groan into his mouth.

He doesn’t waste time, deepening the kiss and letting his other bloodied hand drift into your hair. His fingers curl around the strands and he yanks your neck back, manipulating you how he wants and bending you to his desires. You melt into it, into the complete control you allow him to momentarily wield over you.

You let your mind go blank and just focus on him. You can pretend, for now, that you’re in his old house. You’re coming back after a date at one of those fancy restaurants that he hates, but he takes you there anyway so you can have an excuse to dress up.

He’ll whisper I love you and drag you to the couch. You’ll start there, his kisses traveling lower until he’s dragging you back to his bedroom. You’ll feel valued, cherished, loved. Cooper will take care of you.

He parts slowly from you, still keeping a firm grip on your hair. It takes a moment for your eyes to flutter open again. You’re sure you look like a mess, staring up at him with glossy eyes and swollen lips, completely drenched in your own blood.

“Don’t think about him when I’m the one kissing you, darling.” Your eyes widen and he lets you go. He shoves back from you and paces towards his bag. Any warmth in his eyes, any care, was gone.

You want to say something to drag him back but the moment has passed. It’s not like he was wrong, you were pretending he was someone completely different to make yourself feel better.

But you couldn’t make yourself feel guilty when you remembered half the reason you needed the comfort was because of who he was now. He comes back with a needle and thread. He lets the needle hover over the men’s fire for a moment before he approaches you with it. “Stimpak will only do so much, need to sew you up.”

You nodded and looked away as he knelt down and pressed the needle into your skin. You barely felt it, could barely pay attention to him when your thoughts were on what it was like before. What he was like before. Sometimes it makes you sick to your stomach to look at him.

#cooper howard x reader #the ghoul x reader #fallout x reader #fallout tv series

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fawnpires · 1 day

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hihii idk if ur requests are open but I'd like 2 kindly question for a konig x hyperfem! reader?? just konig falling in love with cutesy fm reader -🎀

୨୧ — anon, you’ve just blessed me with creating the concept of college!könig + hyperfem!reader together as a pair.

꒰ CONTENTS ꒱ -> COLLEGE AU, hyperfem + fem!reader, college!könig, undertones of pining, strangers to lovers, dumbification, size difference, oral sex [fem. receiving], mutual loss of virginity, messy sex, tons of manhandling, usage of pet names.

There's something about him that appeals to no other girl; he's around a year or two older in comparison to you – a kept-to-himself, socially bordered-off type of guy, barely knows how to communicate with others, barely knows how to converse with girls at that.

Hell, you don't even think you've seen him up until now, – excluding the classes you have with him – perched up in some corner of a borderline sketchy frat party, spread-legged on the couch and stiff as ever with a red solo cup cupped in his equally tense fist. Not his kind-of environment. Not the sort to be here. Makes you wonder where he'd much rather be right now.

You're smitten by him, as early as those feelings sound and fully embedded itself in your head. But who were you to deny them about a guy like him? – a lean, tall structure with just a sufficient amount of softness and toughened muscles around the edges, the kindest hues of blue gracing the formations of his eyes, and that nearly dreamy shade of pale-sandy that his shaggy hair and light stubble takes on.

And you don’t have the faintest clue how, but you would never expect to end up on that couch, the bared skin of your thigh beneath the pleats of your little mini-skirt rubbing up against the coarse fabric of his jeans. although it’s probably the alcohol, or the closely intimate atmosphere of the party, but either way, you had no doubts that his mere presence was to have you hooked onto him. (save for the innocent school-girl crush that you'd never owned up to until right about now.)

"König, right?" you asked, striking up benevolent conversation all while giving him a timid yet sweet smile plastered against the puffiness of your glossed-over lips.

The moment you had first made your way over here and politely invited yourself directly next to him, it left him paralyzed, constricted in his own body to some extent. He couldn't deny your beauty as much as you found his own; a bit ditsy in all the right places appearance-wise, but possessing your own personal fashion sense which he found quite endearing. Little pale-pink ribbons he had always observed you wearing around campus and during classes somewhere in your hair, a variety of mini-skirts and dresses, or the occasional crop top and a track-suit. The cliché feminine kind.

This particular exchange seems to pique his interests. He comes across as oddly indulged in you, eyes discreetly alight than usual.

“Mhm. I know you,” he nodded, a delicate gruff-ness lingering in his tone. “you’ve become a common sight to me, not to sound strange, but I'm sure we have most classes together.”

“Not strange at all. Though, I barely see you around outside of classes.”

“Yeah, I figured. just not the partying-type, it’s a mystery as to how I ended up here.”

You snorted. “The frats are my best guess, complete assholes. Must’ve gotten to your head about letting loose, stupefying yourself… somethin’ like that.”

He chuckles, ending it in a brief dragged-out sigh, sincere and throaty, his lips left agape.

“You know, they may not be entirely wrong,” he ponders aloud, eyeing your doe gaze before aimlessly staring ahead. “there’s no harm in loosening up every now and then – but still, I fear the farthest I can go is alcohol.”

“No girls?” you remark teasingly, tilting your head like a curious puppy. “That’s hard to believe.”

The tease of a compliment causes him to roll his eyes in a light-hearted manner, his head sloping back down to stare down at you as he’s left with a raised eyebrow – along with a small, stupid-plastered grin smudged across his semi-thinned lips. Focused. strange, charming, loser of a man he was. It was probably just the alcohol really enhancing on his actions and speech, but who was he to not take advantage of such abilities?

In some subconscious portion between his assumed temporary self-confidence and original, reserved and sweetheart-of-a-man self; an arm reached around the expanse of your back, keeping you close to him in a fragile way of handling you. His hand had itself in your hair, lightly toying with the satin material of your ribbons in the most tender way possible.

There’s evident potential amidst the both of you – he knows it, and you know it.

“Not so hard to believe when I'm talking to one right now.” he comments, blinking at you with a subtle smirk. “I've never told you or anyone this but… god, you’re a beauty.”

His flirtations were kept sweetened, innocent and a tad shy still. He's pleasant enough to converse with rather than fraternities. They weren’t much of empaths, just insufferable pains in the asses. Turning girls into their insignificant wet dreams. At least König beat the poorly-set expectations of getting together with a man like that as a last resort out of you, a chance at more ideal circumstances.

You found yourself enamored with the guy the second you walked into this party – gaping over at him through the corners of your eyes across the room, across campus, – and now, without a train of moral thinking in your head, you’ve got yourself in the same position like every other girl at a college party; settled in some handsome stranger’s lap, and making out with him your life depends on it. The last thing you remembered was the way his words in the form of a compliment came to you, before you had your legs rested on each side of his spread legs and large hands caging gently at your waist.

It’s an ambiguity as to how quickly your body molds into his, ridges and curves sculpting as if they were familiar to one another, almost like they were predestined to attach like a hidden prophecy. His kisses are a far cry from how you initially expected them to be. (unfortunately rough, messy, just like how you’d seen your friends get it on with their boyfriends.)

A heavy hand palms at the back of your head while the other is left at one side of your hip – the cushion of his lips meeting yours with a lenient, mutual desperation. You barely know anything about him, yet here you are caught in this trance of letting him take guidance in this, all you’re doing is pursuing in whatever he does. Your arms wrap around his neck, chest rising and falling against his as the intimacy of the kiss begins to naturally register in your brain. He had you in the palm of his hand, clearly.

You’re so deeply in savoring the exhilarating taste of him that it was beyond your realizations he’s up and lifting you off of his lap, instead leading you on with only both of your arms clinging to one of his own – leaning onto him in a love-drunk predicament. You could’ve sworn he was looking down at you with the most adoration you’ve ever seen on a man’s face, nothing surprising when he was being the right amount of considerate to accompany you back to your own dorm – to lose his heart’s worth and devotion to. He had such a pure heart, virtuous even. That is, until you’re at the foot of your door, and you’re unlocking it without a realistic thought in mind – were you really this yearnful? – lacing fingers with a foreign individual, breaths lost in a slight stagger until you’re swinging the door wide open and stumbling inside along with him.

It’s when your legs wrap around the dips of his hips, and your arms once more caging in framing his neck, you definitely knew that this was something beyond casual. He ghosts kisses against the course of your jaw, trailing down to your neck, a hungering fluctuation. Your head is leaned backwards, body held in the confines of his towering-self and the solid wall; truthfully, it was a reality of euphoric suffocation with his hand gently resting around your neck and the whole situation with him and the wall, fingers resting on the skin for some stability rather than the purpose of choking you out.

In all of his honesty, he doesn’t know where he’s obtained this abrupt ability to turn such a pretty girl into a melted pile of mush in his hands, considering his substantial lack of experience. However, he couldn’t deny putting it to good use.

With a share of his hoarse huffs and your choked-up intoxicated sighs, he rounds the corner of your living room area and nearly trips over the threshold of the bedroom bringing you into it. You project your gaze onto his face – and bizarrely, find that you are unable to stifle a smile at the sheer sight of him, girlish and one possessing the aspects of authentic love, a rosy color blooming across your facial features. He cups the softness of your ass beneath the stretched material over your skirt, chuckling beneath his breath at the show of flusteredness occupying your face. He pecks chastely at your forehead before laying you down in the center of your mattress, hunched over, affectionately trailing his lips across the stretch of your shoulders and collarbones. He's gentle, stroking at the outlines of your sides soothingly, getting your heart-rate spiking and the blood in your veins pulsating, reveling in a newer warmth.

“You might just be the prettiest damn thing I’ve ever seen,” he says to you in a hushed voice, palming at the dough-like flesh of your breasts through your top and bra before shedding them off of your chest. He stares dumb-founded at the caused nudity, his eyes downcast and a slight bob in his adam’s apple. “you must really like me a lot to let me do this to you, huh, prinzessin?”

You bit the region of your lower lip, teeth sinking into the kiss-swollen rawness while you nodded your head, eyelashes fluttering up at him. “Like you so much, König. I…” you swallowed, brushing the back of your hand against the contours of his face. “I think you’re the sweetest guy in the world.” you finish breathily, eyes half-lidded in a sensual-ardent craze.

He kisses your knuckles, and then the area beneath. “Yeah? I've got a bunch of feelings about you too.” König says, his hands now finding their way to the edges of your skirt and pulling the piece of fabric down to discard on the floor next to your bed.

“Really?” you respond with a ditsy little smile.

A small smile creases his lips. “Of course I do. How do you think we’ve even managed to end up like this in the first place?” he says, “Feelings and a beautiful girl do have their tolls on a man.”

And there is when those carved, rugged hands of his do the most predictable; fingertips over lace and hooked into the waistband, dragging down that last article of modesty down and giving him a full worth’s perspective of the girl he had longed after, and not so shamefully, fell in love with in a single night. Desperation is put at the forefront of his mind from this point and on – since the manner of which he plants his knees into the mattress and nestles himself in between the spread of your legs that now rested curled and caging around his hips was something truly explicit in nature.

Calloused fingers slip between your thighs within a matter of a few seconds, the pads of his fingertips massaging from your clit and right to the center of your puffy folds, glossed over with copious amounts of your slick. Your benefit of bringing him right back to your dorm room, a man with an eagerness to pull an orgasm out of such an angel of a girl.

König has that terminal objective in mind as he observes the way your lashes flutter over your lash-line, his index and middle finger extended – pressing against your clit and moving with just enough pressure to draw a few gasps and softened mewls from your lips. You’re left writhing on the sheets, hips elevated off of the bed due to the sensual arch of your back, and panting out his name so pathetically your own voice was far from recognizable; like you would lose all genuine sanity if he wouldn’t just get straight to the point.

To your luck, he doesn’t hesitate – because he to is way too pent-up, and in some dire need of simulation – and disengages his fingers away from your pulsating cunt just to lock your legs in two muscular biceps, his head finding its own heaven right there in between your squeezing thighs wrapped around his head. Drills his tongue into your silken walls and gives you the blissful sensation of being stuffed full with just that. He’s only ever seen this in the casual porno here and there, sure, but the real thing was something distinctly new to him; made him feel like not a beginner, but more on the side of heavy experience on knowing how to coax a pretty cunt to open up for him.

You feel his stubble graze over your sensitivity, and the curved ridge of his nose bumping right up against your clit additionally. A union near impossible for your cunt to not squeeze around his tongue that was so expertly getting you stupefied for him in all the right ways – it was overwhelming in some sense, but you would surely not be lying if it you said that König, withdrawn and mannered-craze, had definitely ruined you for any other man on sexual terms.

“Doing good up there so far, engel?” he asks, a slight growl to his accent with the muffle of his mouth stuffed of you.

“Yes! just… don’t stop, please,” you manage to whisper back breathily, fingers lacing and gently tugging through the now-unkempt bits of his hair. “feels so good.”

Your mouth is left open, head slanted back, and your doe eyes now hooded-over as you gazed down at where his broad, large figure had resided. His tongue fills you up, plunging in back-and-forth motions until the messy combination of his spit and your arousal began to make a soaking mess right between your thighs, drooling down your skin and collecting in a small pool underneath you in a lewd sight. He’s got you quite literally trapped between this bordering exhilaration of his euphoric ministrations and his rooted physicality below you.

He’s rather sloppy with how he’s eating you out, lips kissing at your folds in a near-disgusting-erotic implication of making out with them. You feel the warmth of his breath against you; the coarseness of his stubble simultaneously pressing there. He drags the muscle of his tongue over your clit repeatedly, his gaze fully focused on the overwhelming neediness that was slowly beginning to dissipate your natural consciousness. At this point, his cock was straining up through his boxers and the suffocating fabric of his jeans – albeit his belt being undone and his pants pulled down to only his hip-bones in a poor attempt of getting them off.

On your end, you were submerged in the hands of his treatment. Your glistening, doe eyes glazed over with arousal and the small bits of wetness gracing the lengths of your lashes. Your lips are kiss-swollen and tinted a faint blush-red, lip gloss smeared at the corners and difficult to really make-out if it was really product or the residue of his own saliva from his sensual, hungry kisses. Your hands rest on top of his that were keeping your thighs parted – that is, until he fully registers your touch and instead keeps a gentle hold on both of your hands amidst the intimate scenario. Large fingers laced with your manicured ones, his thumbs drawing small circles into the forms of your knuckles poking out while his sweaty palms lovingly press up against yours.

König’s going down on you like his life depends on it, some excessive lapping and kissing, over and over again. one of his hands release from yours, two of his fingers nudging their way into you beside his tongue – a stuttering in your breathing patterns to accompany the fucked-out expression of your pretty, ruined face sleeked with sweat. You’re fully convinced that was the peak of your euphoria, cunt squeezing so firmly around his tongue and fingers pumping without pause, hitting that sensitive spot of nerves. it was a requited sentiment – his rigid cock aching to be freed from their denim confines, your cunt dripping out of neediness and warmth – and you both knew it, though not verbally expressed, that you needed one another to really get down to being the pinnacles of each other’s deepest physical wants. perfectly-timed.

It's not long before you succumb to his doings, hips lifting off the mattress a few inches and squirming against him, hand tightening to his as your mouth locks in a momentary position of being hung open, and nearly all the possible sounds of an orgasmic reverie pulling from your throat. König kisses against your folds, more delicately this time, then grazing his lips up to your pelvic bone and worshipping the skin there. Slow and sensual. A tender contact to contrast the aftershocks of your release you were still inevitably riding out at the moment. Your cunt flexes around his remaining digits one last time, before softening and releasing; he takes this as a sign, hesitantly pulling out with a coarse sigh.

He sits on his heels, durable hands easily maneuvering your body to his chest and sitting you up against the nude sturdiness of himself. “You put on quite a show, don’t you?” he muses, kissing the side of your head with the smoothest of pecks.

You arch your back into him, entire head mentally stimulated on all of him. “Where'd you learn how to do that?” you question, mildly-dumbfounded and wallowing in his sexual expertise, dexterity.

“That's for me to know, and you to find out, meine liebe.” he teases to you, rubbing the tip of his nose against your scalding cheek.

You huff out, rolling your eyes. Cheeky. “Then… enough chat and let me ‘find out’.” you bit your lower lip at him enticingly, sore cunt almost-instinctively rubbing up against the erected, center portion of his jeans and staining the fabric with the pearl-esque mess of your arousal. A whine, docile and lenient, comes from you at the grasp of understanding what you were doing. König’s aware, too. None of you were a cut above. An orchestration of deep groans and much more higher, feminine sounds of an equal intoxicating high. The denim deepens in its color, thanks to that pretty little thing at the core of your legs painting all over it.

König’s a big man, and a strong one at that. (for a nerd like him, he’s awfully muscular. has he got a side hustle? it really makes you wonder.) So, what kind of a man would he be to deny giving you just one more fuck? A genuine one, one that could really make you fall head over heels for him and have your little heart beating for him days after this night.

He can just see it in your dolly little eyes, lashes batting at him while you were sat, naked, grinding on his lap like a bitch in heat, waiting for him to just do something. Anything at all. Before he knows it, he’s almost immediately giving into you, hands ridding the rest of his clothes and fishing out his fat cock from the last remnants of material.

His cock smacks against the lower region of his abdomen once released. Bulky and heavy. In this state of a longing, aphrodisiac-like crave, the veins adorning him are more prominent, the blunt head leaking of an abundant quantity of pre-cum and decorating his subtly-tanned skin. The sight has you flushing and sent straight to a mindset of dumbification, some place where you’re pliant and completely in love with all of him; his seraphic body of masculinity seemingly crafted by the gods themselves, the profuse amount of worship he held for you. It’s almost comical how fast it’s taken you to fall for him in such little time.

There’s so little to do now except to take you in position, give you the satisfaction of an unconditional, non-negotiable fuck out of reverence. You’re given an eyeful of him once he turns you around, bending you over to linger above a disheveled bed – a safe haven made up of a messed, cum-stained mattress. He’s seductive, obviously, otherwise you wouldn’t be all vulnerable for him right now; fucked-over with the case of an ample heart, and an ache in your pussy – is this really the effect of a hunky-loser austrian had on you? No complaints. The guy’s sultry in his own way.

He's as tall as always behind you, even on his knees. menacing, gentle bastard. His hands find a purchase on either sides of your bare hips, fingers molding into the flesh. A place carved out just for him. Sturdy hips attach to the fullness of your ass, sweat-on-sweat; has you whining beneath your breath like a sniveling dog, especially when the lips of your puffy cunt cushion the length of his cock as he slides in between yours folds – collecting slick, an audible squelch from the mess reverberating through your heated ears. The flushed head taps against your swollen clit before gliding into you with precision. Your back automatically forces itself into a deeper arch to push back against him, arms encased to one of your pillows to which you muffled your incoherent pleasure-made sounds.

Your once-stubborn pussy, now so well-trained to be compliant for him, took in his shallow thrusts. Not much, but what was there to expect? A rough fuck wasn’t your thing – and a majority of campus’s male population wouldn’t even put a girl’s vulnerability during intimacy in the forefronts of their minds – so you were thankful for him.

“Christ, you’re huge.” you nearly sob out in a whimper, with the divergence of a dumbified, slack grin on your ruined lips.

He grunts, “Takes a little to get used to, eh?” the smack of a kiss lands against the face of your right shoulder. “You doing okay? Could always eat you out again, y’know… doesn’t hurt to.”

“Yeah – yeah. I’m fine,” a small gasp leaves you, unfamiliar with something so foreign filling your guts up at such a pace. “fuck what I feel, god, just fuck me.”

He rubs the sides of your hips with his thumbs, stilling within you, and slightly hunching over in position – the chiseled and softened fat of his torso rubbing up against your sheen, curved back, his hands falling from their grace at your hips and instead settling between the crevices of your smaller-in-size fingers. They lace like ribbon through eyelets, fingertips pressing down intently at the tops of your palms, and his head plummeting to the curve of your shoulder to your neck where he conceals his face with ease.

His thrusts are no longer those of a gentle, bonafide lover, but instead restored with something more starved – like he’ll die a poor man if he doesn’t modify your insides into the shape of him.

“Jesus, you’re fuckin’ wet, engel.” lips pucker and latch onto your neck for gentle caresses, “You needed this, can see it in – Scheiß – those little eyes. “

“Mmph – yeah.” you croak out, throat hung out and dry. Sandpaper for a throat.

“Smart girl. you love me, huh?” König forces you into a deeper arch, coercing that love right out. No oral communication needed. He collapses further ove you and takes the angle of your chin, tilting it in a fragile-hold from the pillow as he holds it up – right enough to meet his dilated, enveloped-of-eyelids gaze. so he takes advantage of this posture and kisses you and shares the taste of him, licking you, worshipping you, tongues overlapping one another right about to define the proximity; pistoning, widened hips and a malleable receiver.

Then you do the sluttiest thing a girl like you has ever done – grind your hips back onto the canvas of his crotch, his single hand holding you tight against him, rubbing intermittently across your lower stomach when he shifts all his of his focus onto his calculated motions and the way your cunt drips onto him. Down the length of him all, and discarded below to the sheets.

He's so explicitly hard he could feel it all around him, his muscles, his throbbing head, and you’re no better, squeezing him so tightly that he’s suffocated. The good type of suffocation, one that makes you feel like you’re all blissed out. It’s one whole mass of flesh and intimate rapture. He thrusts harder, squeezes harder, and you continue to grind back onto him – the cycle continues, dragging on and on, and you’re aware this is no longer some hook-up – it’s gotten way too intimate now to be classified as such.

A string of higher-pitched yes, yes, yeses! are spoken like a prayer from you and your unable-to-be-shut mouth. And then, because he can’t really help himself anymore, he wraps his arms around your full torso and presses into you more, thrusting and thrusting to the point where he’s too psychologically stimulated on sex, fucking you, desperate, adoring, each motion enhanced with the softcore-aggressive, dragging, shoving, capture of this fragile body of yours. The pressure’s a give-and-take situation on you and him.

You;re inclined to a drawn-out call of his name as he drives all mustered force right into you, nails clutching crescents to the surface of stained linen, and your cunt coating him in that same wetness that’s been drooling down your legs.

König mutters a gruff fucking take it, prinzessin, before just one single plundering thrust for you to come undone, your orgasm so suddenly, so harshly, occurring out of you, a fervent gushing erupting. Man’s first one-on-one orgasm, and he’s just so managed to make you squirt. A madman, surely. Even he thinks it’s unreal – something straight out of his PC monitors, out of the porn websites he’s browsed when his hormones were on a high every other day; he’s a degenerate turned man-of-his-dreams.

A soft cry is perceived from you as he grinds his hips once more, cock kissing sweetly up to your cervix, his pelvis rubbing into your pubic bone – and you mewl, orgasm dragging itself so needlessly that another surge of fluid spurts from you, painting his abdomen in an array of glistening transparence. He won’t stop, you think.

That is, until he’s feeling all sensitive in his lower abdomen, sharp and tangible by a sensual inebriation. He pulls out – avoiding the next-few-days-consequence of knocking some poor girl up – and cums across your folds, spewing lines; hot, scorchingly hot. “You’re something else,” he says, totally out of breath, exuding heat and sweating, rivulets tainting his skin of moisture.

He’s an accomplished man now.

“So hard to believe you were a virgin before this.” you said, rolling onto your back, the side of your face smushed into a pillow, the quivering of your body signifying the aftermath of his relentlessness still existent. He’s laid down next to you on another pillow, staring blankly at the ceiling with an opened, heated mouth.

“Porn’s pretty accessible, not that hard to pick up on some skills.”

“Oh, you’re a perv,” you say, half-jokingly. “But what’s new? Can’t expect an innocent man anymore. Clean slate and all.”

“It’s a fucked-up world, schatz. You’re just a little, eh… stupid, oblivious, when it comes to the male gender.” he shrugs.

You smack him blithely on the bicep, a mock-irked expression to the ceiling. “You’re all sickos, that’s why,” you shoot back, “and I’m just a proper lady. I don’t indulge in such things.”

“Proper lady my ass. You look the part, but anyone can see past those sweet ribbons and beady eyes of yours – minxy piece of work you are.”

You pout. “You’re mean.”

He turns his head to the side. “It’s all honesty,” he says, sitting up to the headboard and stretching out his aching shoulders. “And if you’re ever in the mood again, I’ve got my practice, and I can say – I’m not that bad at this whole ‘screwing’ thing.”

Sighing, you rest your cheek on his slick thigh. “You make it sound like you’re just another campus-fuck offer,” you giggle sweetly, “What did I really do to you, König?”

"Nothing, nothing at all,” he responds, brushing your disheveled hair and making the poor attempts at adjusting your little girlish ribbons to their original state. “Other than having the most prettiest little thing at my disposal, nothing.”

#.୨୧ fleur's writing.#könig #könig x reader #könig cod #konig x reader #könig smut #konig smut #könig x fem reader #könig x you #könig call of duty #call of duty #call of duty x reader #cod fanfic #cod mw2 #call of duty smut #female reader

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godsfavdarling · 15 hours

Text

Do you want me to take care of you?

my masterlist

+18!!!

pairing: Spencer Reid x gn!reader

words: 1.3k

summary: Spencer and reader love some morning love.

warnings: handjob, soft!dom!gn!reader, soft!sub!spence, no use of y/n (tell me if I forgot something) praise kink? 🤭😝

a/n: i was feeling a bit inspired. maybe i'll come back to my spencelle fic soon but for now hope yall enjoy this!

You woke up to find Spencer nestled against you, his head resting on your chest as you both lay on your sides, facing each other.

His messy curls tickled your face, and you could feel his steady breathing against your skin, the soft exhales warming you. Your leg was draped over his hip, drawing you two as close as possible.

He had returned late, long after you had drifted off to sleep. Despite your efforts to stay awake to greet him, exhaustion had won out.

Sometime during the night, you felt the mattress dip as he settled beside you, seeking comfort in your presence. Though you briefly stirred, sleep quickly reclaimed you, leaving you both to enjoy the peaceful intimacy of the moment.

He had been gone for over a week, and the lack of communication had made you miss him even more. Especially during the quiet moments of the night. Falling asleep and waking up next to him was your favorite part of the day, and now that it was happening again, it felt almost surreal.

You ran your fingers through his hair, gently scratching his head as you savored his scent, careful not to disturb his slumber. It was his favorite shampoo, the same one you used. He had a habit of using your cosmetics, often remarking how they smelled like you and how comforting it was to him."

Suddenly, he shifted slightly, and you felt it—him, pressed against you, his hard length stirring an immediate arousal within you.

There was an undeniable allure to morning intimacy, especially with Spencer. It seemed almost routine that he would wake up already excited, and you found it exhilarating.

Part of you couldn't help but hope that you were the cause of his arousal. While he may have just been the type of guy to experience morning wood, you preferred to believe it was your presence beside him that elicited such a response.

Sleeping next to you seemed to consistently awaken him with desire, a notion that thrilled you. Initially, when you first started dating, he had been embarrassed and tried to conceal it from you. However, it didn't take long for you to reassure him that you had no issue with it. In fact, you welcomed morning intimacy eagerly, willing to sacrifice a few extra minutes of sleep if it meant indulging in each other's desires."

And now, you found yourself in the place you loved most: cuddled up to your boyfriend on a peaceful morning. His hard cock pressed into you.

You began to stroke his hair with a bit more bravery, aiming to gently rouse him from his slumber.

"Spence...? Baby..." you murmured, your voice soft against the morning quiet.

"Mhm...." he responded, shutting his eyes tighter as he hugged you closer.

"Are you waking up?" you whispered into his tousled hair, your fingers trailing gently along his scalp.

"Mhm..." he replied, his voice still heavy with sleep.

You traced soothing circles on his back with your other hand, allowing him to gradually emerge from his dreams. After a while, you started to slowly grind against him, earning a soft whimper that escaped his lips, betraying his arousal.

Pressing a tender kiss to his forehead, you teased, "Someone's excited?"

"Mhm..." he murmured again, his desire evident in his response.

"Do you want me to take care of you?" you whispered, your lips brushing against his skin.

"Mhm..."

"Yeah? I need words, Spence..." you teased playfully, seeking verbal confirmation.

"Please," he finally managed to articulate, his voice tinged with need.

"Okay," you chuckled softly, feeling a surge of affection for him as you reached your hand between your bodies, gently caressing the skin above his boxers.

"Mhm... please," he pleaded once more, his eagerness evident in his tone.

"Someone's needy, huh?" you teased, your voice filled with warmth and affection.

Since you hadn't seen him or felt him in too long, you decided to forgo the teasing and get down to business. He deserved to have everything he wanted, to feel everything he wanted. No more teasing or playing around for now.

You dipped your hand under the waistband, firmly grasping his hard cock, eliciting a breathy exclamation from him.

"Oh god," he gasped, his voice muffled against your chest.

"That feels good?" you inquired softly, seeking confirmation.

"Very good," he murmured in response, his breath warm against your skin.

As you continued to stroke him, you reached for his hair, gently playing and pulling, adding another layer of sensation to the intimate moment.

Placing tender kisses on his forehead, you felt your hips instinctively beginning to move, responding to the rhythm of your shared desire.

It was irresistible, especially with Spencer softly moaning and whimpering against your hot skin, his lips brushing against you, and the warm breath escaping his lungs tickling your skin, intensifying the intimacy of the moment.

His velvet skin felt like a dream, large, hot, tip leaking profusely, your hand slid easily. With your fingers tracing along the veins and around the pink head, Spencer's hand slid around your back, pulling you closer.

"Spencer, honey, you're holding me too tightly. I'm trying to make you feel good," you gently reminded him.

"Sorry," he whispered, loosening his grip.

"It's okay," you assured him, continuing to massage the swollen, taut flesh as Spencer trembled beneath your touch.

You reveled in the feel of his length in your hand, delicate yet powerful. "You're doing so well, my pretty boy," you encouraged him softly, watching as his lips parted, barely glistening with saliva, and his whimpering grew louder.

Starting with your thumb against his slit, you applied pressure, eliciting a moan from his lips, before moving to the pre-cum pooling on the tip. Smearing it along the bottom vein, you used it as a guide as your hand began to move up and down, utilizing the small amount of lubrication present.

His nose scrunched as you picked up the pace, his body responding eagerly to your touch. You twisted your hand, using your nails to tease the head of his manhood, causing him to tense uncontrollably.

"Look at you, Spence. You want it so bad it hurts?" you teased, your tongue between your teeth.

"Please..." he pleaded, his eyes shut tightly as your hand continued its relentless motion.

His head turned to nuzzle into the pillow, his moans muffled as he neared his peak.

"Come on, baby, finish for me," you urged, and Spencer complied, his loud groans filling the room as his release coated your hand, warm and sticky.

He went limp against you, his hands bringing you closer as if he couldn't bear to be apart from you. You softened, stroking his hair with your free hand after helping him come down from his high.

"That's it. You did so well," you praised him, giving him a few more gentle pumps before kissing him tenderly on the lips.

"Thank you," he whispered, his voice still trembling with the remnants of pleasure.

"You're welcome," you replied, your tone tender and filled with affection as you looked into his eyes.

"I love you," he confessed, his gaze filled with adoration as he searched your face for reassurance, sweat glistening on his forehead and his curls tousled from the intensity of the moment.

"I love you too," you responded, your heart swelling with warmth at his words, feeling the depth of your love in every syllable.

"Let me take care of you now," Spencer murmured softly, a gentle smile playing on his lips as he shifted his focus to you. He was ready to reciprocate the love and attention you had just bestowed upon him.

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beskarandblasters · 2 days

Text

I Don't Wanna Keep Secrets Just To Keep You

Part Three of Time, Wondrous Time

Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x F!Reader

Main Masterlist | Cooper Howard Masterlist | AO3

Series summary: You’re California Crest Studios’ newest production assistant, getting the opportunity to work on the hit movie, The Man From Deadhorse. But when you meet the movie’s lead, Cooper Howard, you fall head-first into a secret affair. Enter a war, a cryogenic freezer, and a two-hundred-year time jump. And yet despite all that, you just might run into him again.

Chapter summary: You come to terms with your feelings for Cooper. Later, you share an intimate moment at The Man From Deadhorse cast party.

Word count: 3k

Warnings: reader is able-bodied and wears a dress + makeup, unspecified age gap, jealousy, drinking, dub con/consent under the influence, !!! sweaty Cooper !!!, hair pulling (Cooper’s), oral sex (M and F receiving), vaginal sex, unprotected sex, pull out method, cum swallowing, praise kink, pet names (sweetheart), angst, no use of y/n

That one fateful night led you headfirst into a secret affair. The first night could’ve been nothing but a fluke, a one-time slip-up as a result of a poor decision. But it’s really the second time that confirms the undeniable attraction you two have for one another. The affair lasts through the rest of the shoot. You fall into a routine of getting together at night after the workday is done, always in his trailer and never on weekends. It always ends with you two lying with each other, talking about life. He shares his misgivings about his wife and her job at Vault-Tec. He’s a paranoid man but based on what he told you, you can’t blame him.

As the end of shooting draws near, you form a pit in your stomach. A sense of dread and longing looms over you. What if you never have nights like these again? What if this is your first and last production working with Cooper Howard? And now that the end is in sight, you realize you have a serious problem…

You’re head over heels in love with him. It’s driving you crazy, craving a man who will never truly be yours. You want more than just his midnights. You want his mornings, his weekends– you want him all the time. In the countless nights you’ve spent with him in his trailer, he’s shown you colors you’ve never seen before. It makes you sick, thinking about the hold he has on you.

But you wouldn’t trade it for anything else in the whole world.

It’s the last day of the shoot. These past couple of months have flown by. You thought by now you’d be upset to lose your sense of community. But the truth is, you never felt like you were fully integrated into this environment. You joined the crew about halfway through the production when there were already pockets of established groups and cliques. It’s ironic to think about, the leading man being the only person to welcome you with open arms. You never expected him to even give you the time of day and yet here you are, sharing secrets under the cover of night, sweaty limbs intertwined paired with labored breaths. Those nights were fleeting moments of bliss. You wish you had appreciated them a bit more. And now that the shoot is wrapping up, you’re not sure when you’ll ever get moments like that again.

After a long, hot, tiring day, Emil finally calls wrap. Everyone is packing up when Emil calls everyone for an announcement.

“I know it’s been a long day and you all want to get home to your families but I just have an announcement I’d like to make,” Emil says. “This has been a long shoot, a lot longer than I intended it to be, and to celebrate I’m having a party for the cast and crew Saturday night at seven. If you need my address, find me before you leave. Thanks, everyone!”

A party for the cast and crew.

You get butterflies in your stomach, thinking about the possibility of seeing Cooper outside of the studio. You can only assume Barb will be there, too. But it’s worth hearing his voice and seeing his smile, at least one more time. Saturday can’t come soon enough.

You make sure to get Emil’s address before hanging back like you always do. You’re not sure if you’ll get to see Cooper in his trailer again. You can only hope since it’s the last day. But you’ve never talked about what will happen to you now that the shoot’s wrapped up. A sinking feeling in your gut tells you that your relationship will end after tonight.

You wander aimlessly while you wait for Cooper, reminiscing on your time here and most importantly with him. You turn and glance over your shoulder, watching as Cooper walks towards you, out of costume and in his regular clothes. You smile when you see him but he doesn’t match yours, his mouth forms into a tight frown.

“Everything alright?” you ask as he approaches you.

“I can’t stay tonight.”

“No worries,” you lie, already fighting the urge to cry.

“Something came up with Janey.”

“I hope everything’s okay.”

“It’ll be fine. She’s just sick and Barb has some big meeting with the executives at Vault-Tec tonight. Babysitter’s not available on short notice.”

“Sounds important.”

“I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

“You don’t have to apologize. It’s not your fault.”

“I’ll see you on Saturday, sweetheart,” he says, turning and walking away.

“You’re going?!”

“Of course I am!” he calls over his shoulder, walking to the parking lot.

So much for one last time together.

The shoot wrapped up on a Thursday so luckily you only had to wait a day before Saturday rolled around. After spending an exorbitant amount of time on your makeup and outfit, you head to Emil’s house. You’re wearing one of your favorite dresses, a color that compliments your skin and hugs your body in all the right places. You pull up to Emil’s house, a huge mansion in the hills, overwhelmed at the sheer size of it but also expecting nothing less from him.

His house is packed with everyone from the studio, letting loose over cocktails and cigarettes. For a minute, you feel like a deer in headlights, anxious about who to talk to and where to hang out. You spot Cooper across the living room, talking with a group of people you recognize. But you’re not comfortable enough to go over there and insert yourself in the conversation. To your delight, Barb isn’t with him. But before you get too excited, you remind yourself she could be elsewhere in the house.

You get a drink from the wait staff in the kitchen and hang out in the corner of the living room, sipping your drink and awkwardly waiting for the perfect moment to swoop in. But you’re pulled from your pining when a man approaches you, drink in hand and wearing an uneasy smile. You vaguely recognize him. You’ve seen him around on set but you couldn’t place his name or what he does at the studio.

“Hi,” he says, awkwardly.

“Hi.”

“I’ve seen you around on set.”

“Likewise.”

“I just wanted to introduce myself. I’m Dan,” he says, holding out his hand.

You reluctantly shake his hand and tell him your name, letting an uncomfortable silence fall between you two.

“Actually, I… I wanted to tell you something else.”

“Shoot.”

“Well, I’ve always thought you were beautiful, and I…”

What’s he saying turns into white noise as your gaze fixates on Cooper again. To your surprise, Cooper’s looking right at you with his jaw clenched. Could he possibly be… jealous?

You look back at Dan who’s silent, waiting for your response. You blink a few times and say, “That’s sweet of you. But I’m not looking for anything right now.”

He opens his mouth to speak but before he can, you say, “Would you excuse me for a moment? I need some air.”

You push past him and make a beeline for the glass door across the living room. But before you can step outside, Emil stops you.

“Hey! I just wanted to give you something,” he says, setting his drink down on a shelf and reaching inside his pocket. He pulls out a small envelope and continues, “Open this when you’re alone later.”

“Thanks,” you say, taking the envelope from him and putting it in your purse.

“Is everything alright?”

“I’m okay. I just need some air. Thanks, Emil,” you respond, sliding past him.

You head into the backyard, sitting on a lawn chair by Emil’s pool. The prospect of another man confessing his attraction to you just sends you further into Cooper’s arms, confirming how badly you want to be exclusive with him already. But you also wonder what could possibly be in that envelope Emil gave you. You go to open it but a voice stops you, an unmistakable voice.

“You okay, sweetheart?”

You look up at him as he places a hand on your shoulder. He’s wearing concern all over his face.

“That guy wasn’t bothering you, was he?”

“No,” you shake your head. “It’s just a little overwhelming in there.”

“What do you say we go somewhere more private?”

“Where?”

He gestures across the pool with his head. You glance in that direction and spot a pool house, turning and looking at Cooper again with a smirk on your face.

“You go first. I’ll meet you there.”

“Is Barb here?”

“Nope. She’s at a Vault-Tec dinner.”

Perfect.

You walk over to the pool house, creeping the door open and poking your head inside, just to make sure no one’s inside. It’s bigger than it looks on the outside. You opt to turn on a lamp rather than the main overhead light. You don’t want to draw any extra attention. A large sectional sits in the middle of the room, complete with a bar cart at its side. You toss your purse on the couch and turn to peek into the bathroom, finding a full-blown sauna.

Cooper joins you and closes the door to the pool house, putting a hand on the small of your back.

“Impressed?”

“Uhh, yeah. This is wild.”

“Wanna use it?”

“Really?”

“Mhm,” he says, turning up the dial.

He starts taking off his jacket and unbuttoning his shirt. Before you get undressed you ask, “Are we going to get in trouble?”

“Hell no.”

“Are you sure?”

“Would you stop worrying so much?” he says, hands gravitating to your waist and pulling you close. He leans in and whispers in your ear, “Strip for me. Now.”

“Yes, sir,” you breathe, turning around so he can unzip your dress. You peel off your clothes and kick off your shoes as the small wooden room heats up. A warm, earthy scent fills your senses. You look at him, his belt undone and his pants hanging low on his hips.

“You’re gorgeous… But I’m sure you’re sick of me tellin’ you that all the time.”

“Are you kidding me? I’ll never get used to it,” you say, sitting on the bench.

He gets down on his knees, pulling your thighs apart with his hands. Without warning, he dives face-first into your cunt, licking one long, slow trail up your entrance. A shiver runs down your spine as you take a deep breath, the woodsy aroma filling your lungs. You look down at him and find him staring directly at you. His tongue swirls around your pussy before he latches his mouth onto your clit, sucking with more and more pressure. He moans into you as he works you up to the edge. You reach between your legs and run your hand through his hair, gripping his locks as you teeter on the brink of orgasm. You tug on his hair every time his tongue hits a particularly sensitive spot. He’s already slick with sweat, forehead glistening in between your legs. Your moans and whimpers grow louder and stronger, coming out as choked-up sobs as he pushes you over the edge. Waves of pleasure wash over you, your cunt clenching around nothing while your thighs close around his head. He laps up the remnants of your release before sitting on the bench next to you, swiping his fingers across his jaw to collect the rest of your spend and popping them in his mouth.

You trade places with him, sinking to the floor on your knees. One of your hands cups his balls as the other wraps around the base of his already hard cock. You waste no time taking him in your mouth, swirling your tongue around the head of his cock over and over again. He throws his head back and curses under his breath, bringing a hand to your face and caressing your cheek. You flash your eyes up at him, watching him go crazy for you. His jaw is slack and his pupils are wide, adoration written all over his face.

Just when you think he’s going to cum, he grabs your face and pulls his cock out of your mouth, “Not so fast.”

You stand up and turn around so your back is facing him, taking it upon yourself to sit on his cock. He curses again, wrapping his hands around your waist and playing with your nipples as you bounce up and down.

“Such a good girl. Bouncing up and down on my cock like a fuckin’ angel.”

“Only for you.”

“That’s right,” he responds, letting one of his hands leave your waist to deliver a swift slap on your ass.

Between bouncing yourself on his cock and grinding your hips back and forth, you’re well on your way to your second orgasm. Your wetness seeps out of you and coats his lap, making it easier to grind against his lap. With one last motion of your hips, you cum around his cock, feeling truly full. You lean back against his chest, both of your bodies hot and drenched with sweat. Aftershocks of your orgasm rip through you, making you shudder. His hands roam up and down your body, leaving no part of you ignored. But he can only hold off his orgasm for so long. He grabs your hips and coaxes you to get up, ordering you to get on your knees again.

“On your knees, sweetheart.”

You face him with your mouth open, tongue sticking out as he strokes himself. Soon enough, he’s coming into your mouth with a guttural moan. You swallow his release before wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. You crawl into his lap and wrap yourself around him, always listening for his wild heartbeat. Both of you are completely covered in sweat, but it’s not gross. It’s a pleasant aroma of his natural scent mixed with the woodsy fragrance of the sauna. It’s a scent you could get addicted to if you’re not careful enough. He strokes your back, kissing your head and whispering sweet nothings in your ear.

Tilting your head, you look up at his face. “Were you… jealous of that guy earlier?”

“Who? Dan?”

“Mhm. You look like you would have punched him right then and there,” you tease.

“No one flirts with my girl.”

Those two words. My girl. That’s all you wanted to hear him say over these past few months. But then reality settles in. Dan doesn’t know you’re Cooper’s girl.

You think about where you are and remember that you’ll have to leave the pool house separately. You remember that he can only call you sweetheart in secret. You remember that he’s just… not truly yours.

The affair’s been fun and all but it’s just been placating you from what you’ve been craving this whole time– exclusivity. You want to be more than his dirty little secret. You want his Friday nights and his Sunday mornings. You want to eat dinner with him every night. You want to go on dates. You want to walk red carpets with him and listen to him gush about you in interviews. You want him to show you off.

“Sweetheart? Are you okay?” he asks. He must’ve sensed you going abnormally still and quiet.

You pull back and look at him, worry written on his face. What you want to tell him is on the tip of your tongue. But you can’t bring yourself to do it.

“I’m fine,” you lie.

“Okay,” he says, cupping your face again. “We should probably get showered and dressed. I have no idea how long we’ve been in here.”

“Right,” you nod, pulling yourself off of him no matter how hard it is. You reach for your clothes and walk into the shower. He does the same and turns off the sauna. You turn on the water, letting steam fill the walk-in shower before getting inside. He gets in with you, chest pressed against your back. He grabs the bottle of shower gel and creates a lather in his hand, rubbing it up and down your body as you relax. He’s careful to not ruin your makeup like a true gentleman. Once you’re clean you do the same for him, washing each other in comfortable silence. The end looms over your head but you choose not to focus on it. You choose to focus on the few fleeting moments you have left.

He turns off the water and grabs a towel, helping you dry off and get dressed. And soon enough, you’re both dressed again as if what happened in the sauna never occurred, except for your makeup that’s a little sweat-ridden. Before you part ways he kisses you, soft and sweet, telling you good night before slipping back out into the party.

You grab your purse off the couch and remember the envelope Emil gave you. Now that you’re alone you open it, finding a handwritten card that says;

Just wanted to say thank you. You really saved our asses with this production. As a token of my gratitude, here are two tickets to The Man From Deadhorse premiere.

-Emil

The two tickets slip out of the card. You glance at the date and see it’s not until January of next year, four months from now. Regardless, that was nice of him. When you signed up to work on the film you never thought you’d be able to attend the premiere. Your stomach swirls at the thought of seeing Cooper all dressed up on the red carpet but then it sinks when you remember he’ll be with Barb.

You shove the envelope and the tickets back in your purse, glancing at the room once more. Once you turn off the light, you leave the pool house, dragging your feet as you walk back to your car. The reality of the situation is sinking in now– that was probably the last time you’ll see Cooper for a while. And maybe it’s the alcohol or the post-sex hormones talking but you could break down and cry at any given moment. But you don’t give in until you’re alone in the comfort of your car, cursing the man who welcomed you with open arms on your first day on set.

End note: This series is five parts now because I’m an indecisive idiot 🤧🤧 This is also some of my favorite smut I’ve ever written?!?!? And thank you to @clawdee for beta reading and telling me I needed to make Cooper sweatier 😏

If you like my work, consider supporting me on Ko-fi 🤍

Check out the series playlist! 🎶

Fic notifs: @beskarandblastersfics

Dividers: @saradika-graphics

Tag list: @widowmakerow @bisasterbisexual @wowitsem @vegetarianvamp @celestial-vomit @ghoulsimper @anyzandy @justfoxymuffins @hobnob2020 @fallout-girl219 @ipostwhtifeel @awhoresjourney @the-faceless-bride @birdieofloxley @raviolisenpai

#cooper howard x reader #cooper howard smut #cooper howard x you #cooper howard x f!reader #the ghoul x reader #the ghoul smut #the ghoul x you #the ghoul x f!reader #fallout #fallout fanfiction #cooper howard #the ghoul #time wondrous time

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lovebittenbyevans · 15 hours

Text

Behind Closed Doors

Summary: Being married for five years to Gojo Satoru is not all that it seems to be.

Pairing: Actor!Gojo Satoru x Wife!Female Reader

Warnings: angst, cursed words, fame au

Author note: Hello, Welcome to Life In The Spotlight AU Universe series. Enjoy reading this out of order chronological series. Comment, like and reblog.

– I don’t do taglist at all. If you want to keep up just click the notification

Being around the parties, rich celebrities was always a good time to be at. You got used to the fame of being Gojo's girlfriend at first then wife over the years. Everywhere you go with Gojo paparazzi always taking pictures of you two or sometimes a video.

His fans love him like crazy and you were not surprised what an amazing fanbase Gojo has. Even though some of his fans send you death threats every now and then. On social media you had to put your account private because everyday some fans leave nasty comments as well.

Although you were able to live your life the way you wanted while being with Gojo, you started to notice a change in him for the last few months. He was always working which was understandable but he would stop calling you and text you while he is at work on set being busy.

You would send him a lot of voicemail and text messages since he doesn’t answer your calls anymore. He would sometimes come home late drunk and out of his mind. Some days he doesn't bother to say hello to you or kiss you. The connection between you two was slipping away slowly.

You were over it.

You were tired.

You felt your feelings to be all over the place. You can tell he was not the same Gojo you fell in love with and wanted to marry. You can tell the spark between you two is always there but it feels like you two are drifting apart.

Sitting on the bed, you were still deciding whether to go to the Screen Actors Guild Awards this evening. You were so busy this morning being around your friends that you almost forgot about it.

Of course you wanted to show your support for your husband even though you already feel off. You sat there on the bed holding your dress when you heard his voice along with his footsteps. “Babe, are you almost ready?”

He stopped at the door when you glanced up at him. “Babe we are going to be–” You cut him off immediately. “I decided I don’t want to actually go, Gojo.”

Gojo eyes were on you. “What?” He never once heard you turn down any award show you wanted to go to with him.

Your eyes filled with tears as he entered the room. “What do you mean?”

You glanced at him and wiped your tears away swiftly. “This marriage and us, I can't do this anymore.” You continue to speak. “We don’t communicate anymore. It’s obvious you don’t answer my calls and texts. You come home drunk all the time. You are out everyday at some dinner and always at one of your friend’s parties.”

You had to let it out. You've been holding this in for so long that you didn’t know how to tell him. You love Gojo so much but sometimes you wish he was a different person and your marriage could be so much better.

He crosses his arms as his back touches against the wall. “Y/N, I may not be the fairy tale prince you wanted but I treated you good.”

You scoff and meet his gaze. “Fairy tale prince? I never told you I wanted that princess Cinderella bullshit!” Your voice started to get loud.

As he runs his fingers through his white hair, he sighs. “Y/N, don’t lie. You wanted that version with me during this whole marriage and I gave you that.” He knew you were going to not tell him the truth about what you really wanted in this marriage.

“What I wanted!? Wow.” Your voice got even louder. “Gojo, when we met and started seeing each other you were the sweetest guy. I wanted to be with. You were a romantic as well and it’s obvious all you wanted was my attention even after we got married.”

You can’t believe this bullshit. The Gojo you got was when you two first started dating and seeing each other. He hasn’t changed until after you have been married to him for five years.

He shakes his head while listening to you. “You started ignoring me once you went to Chicago for a few months to film that movie you were excited to be in.” Gojo just stood there looking at you. He can see the hurt on your face. He noticed he hasn’t been a good husband to you but he didn’t want to admit it to himself.

“That’s not–I always call you and text you when I am there.” He walked over to the bed and sat down next to you.

You shake your head and move away from him on the bed. “G, you just love lying huh?” For once you wanted him to be honest with you.

He said, pretending to act dumb. “What do you mean, Y/N?”

You scoff. “Don’t be stupid now. You come home drunk all the time. You barely touch me and kiss me anymore. It’s like you are allergic to me.”

“What? I don’t–” You interrupted him before he responded to you. “I AM YOUR WIFE! I am not some fucking random bitch you come home to every so often!”

Gojo's stunning eyes widened in surprise. He never saw you lose your temper like that with him ever. When you and him have a disagreement he always sees you stay calm and humble.

Your heart was racing. You were unable to think at all. You felt your head begin to pound, noticing a slight headache coming along as well.

“Honey I–” He paused when you got up off the bed taking a step straight to the closet. “I–I didn’t know you felt this way.” He mumbles.

You open the closet door and place the dress on a hanger. “How could you? You are too busy being Mr.Hollywood star getting drunk all the time and accompanying a few women.”

The loneliness was starting to creep up on you again. You have felt like this for the last two years and a half.

“Y/N, I would never cheat on you.” He said, honestly.

You placed the dress back in the closet and closed the door. “Well, it seems like your co-star Julia had other ideas for the blogs to know.”

Gojo was confused because he had no idea what you were talking about. He took his phone out of his pocket when he realized the time he had to be at the event.

“Huh? She wouldn’t–” He stopped talking when his phone was buzzing like crazy. He stared at the screen seeing notifications from his friends asking where he was. He clicked on his messages and ignored the ones above.

Gojo doesn’t always check his emails, text messages sometimes because he is a busy man. He kept scrolling and scrolling through his phone when he finally realized a bunch of headlines about him and his co-star Julia for the last few months.

Gojo Satoru spotted out with his co-star Julia at a restaurant

Gojo Satoru seen getting cozy with his co-star Julia on set of their new movie The Angel Above

Gojo Satoru seen drunk with some friends and his co-star Julia

“Where is his wife?” One comment on the article says.

How did he let this get too far?

How has he not seen all of these different headlines in a matter of months?

He turned his phone off as he met your gaze. “Honey, I am sorry.” You let out a fake chuckle while grabbing a pillow and a blanket off the bed. “Too late for sorry. I’ll be sleeping somewhere else when you get back.”

You walked out of the bedroom as Gojo quickly followed behind you. “Wait! Are you leaving me?” You opened the door to the guest room and turned around staring at him. “Have a good night G.”

The door slammed shut before Gojo could get a word out. He stared at the door feeling a tear roll down his cheeks. “Fuck!” Worried that his marriage would fail, he struck the wall with his hand as he went downstairs and out of the house.

#gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x female reader #gojo satoru x y/n #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk x fem!reader #jjk x y/n #jjk gojo #jujutsu gojo #gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo x female reader #gojo x y/n

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nsfwflint · 2 days

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Thnks Fr Th Mmrs/Official Goodbye Post

Well this was clearly going to happen eventually after retirement but I think it's for the best that I finally step away from this blog.

First things first, I want to thank everyone who supported me throughout the years. I started this blog in the middle of 2020 and all of you who supported me helped me get through some tough times, including the death of a family member. For a while, this blog was tons of fun. Ideas and words were flowing onto pages and the creative spark was immensely satisfying. Seeing people enjoy my own niche but vanilla works helped me feel good about my writing.

Like I said, this blog was a lot of fun. Until it wasn't. The pressure to perform, the idea that each piece had to be better than the one before it, even if nobody expected that. The growing "meta" of the community with certain idols becoming "mainstream". While I never tried to focus too much on notes, it did quickly get demoralizing to see pieces I poured countless hours of work into get less notes than some random pieces just because the idol I chose was less popular. It wasn't even really about the notes, it was about wanting to feel like the work I put in was acknowledged. Even though I shouldn't have let it affect me, as someone who always struggled with acknowledgement of others, it was tough on me. Eventually it felt like more and more of a chore to write because why bother if I'm not going to be acknowledged for my effort anyway?

This combined with drama from other writers (since this is goodbye post I don't feel bad about airing the dirty laundry, Peach you're still a bitch whose fragile ego couldn't take the same trash talk you dished to countless other people) and the community shifting to younger and younger idols to the point that I felt massively uncomfortable just communicating with some of the other writers in this circle of the internet, killed the spark I had for this hobby.

So I decided to retire. I flirted with a comeback every once in awhile, tried to finish at least a few of the multitude of partial drafts I had started to varying degrees over the years. But despite all of these efforts, I found that my love for this community truly died. But I still held onto to whatever vague attachments I had to this blog and tried to transform it into a random space to geek about my various hobbies since this was the biggest platform I've ever achieved while also messaging the few writers I still talked to. But as more and more of those writers also disappeared, it's time for me to accept that it's time to say goodbye.

Over the past few months I've been taking big steps to get my life into a place I want it to be and I think a big part of that now also involves laying this blog to rest. It's not fair to you guys who are still here expecting some type of possible comeback, and it's not fair to me to hold onto these feelings that at this point can only be reduced to nostalgia. While my catalog might not be as long or extensive as some of the other writers in the community, I'm still pretty proud of the work I put out for the most part.

If by any chance anyone still even reads any of my works, don't worry. The blog itself isn't going anywhere, I'm not deleting it. It'll stay here for a good long time. It just won't be a place I visit anymore.

Even though most of the following people are now gone, I want to take this time to thank some of the most influential people behind my time on this blog.

First, huge thanks once again to the amazing @lockefanfic and @sinsatmidnight. I've said it a million times but you two were the whole reason I started writing in the first place. You helped me onto this amazing journey and I'll always appreciate you for it.

@ggidolsmuts, @cataboliac, @themanthemyththeverite, you guys were some of my best friends in this community and I appreciate everything you all did for me. I love you guys.

A special shoutout to @kingmaker-a, you were my biggest fan and you were a huge reason why I kept going for a while. My last couple of pieces are definitely out because of your support.

A giant thank you to the 9,500ish who were here over the years. While I never quite got to 10k followers or hit 1k notes, the fact that there's still so many of you here never ceased to amaze me, especially since I never expected to get 100 followers, let alone almost 100 times that. Truly amazing and you all hold a special place in my heart.

And finally, to quote a manga I enjoy, "if you liked my work I'm happy, and if you didn't, I'm sorry but I can't do shit about that."

I'll stay on for a little bit to answer any potential farewell asks but I don't know how long that will last.

Thnks Fr Th Mmrs and keep on rocking!

#final update #announcement #update #goodbye #farewell #kpop #kim sejeong

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theskeletongames · 16 hours

Note

Hello! I have been following your work for a long time, and I really appreciate the amount of work and inspiration you’ve given!

My question is this: how do you stay motivated to keep works going for an extended time, and what’s your advice to anyone wanting to stay active in the art community?

(As always, love your work, and I wish you luck! ❤️)

I'm having a hard time with motivation right now, so I don't always stay motivated. I even had a large break from drawing last year, and I don't feel like drawing as much. I'm sure it will come back, so I try and not beat myself up too much about it, because that makes it worse. If I really want to motivate myself, I can either find something artistically amazing to consume (I have a list of things that sometimes work), turn on music specific for the project first, or just opening the project and telling myself I'm only gonna work on simple things that only take a few min but easily transition into hours of work.

Sometimes the last one is very effective because the art avoidance may just be an issue with the scope of the project being too much. Focusing on doing small things can ease the brain into creative mode without it getting stuck being worried about how large or difficult the task is.

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takerfoxx · 12 hours

Text

Miorine: How DARE you ruin my escape plan! You owe me for this! Take responsibility!

Suletta: Wow, you're cute.

Miorine: SO ARE YOU, BUT I'M STILL MAD!

...

Miorine: Congrats. We're engaged.

Suletta: But I'm a girl!

Miorine: ...yes, and?

...

Miorine: Don't worry, this is just a mutually beneficial arrangement. I'll help you adjust to school life around here, and you keep the other suitors off my back until I dip, then the engagement will be broken and you can do whatever you want.

Suletta: Okay, gucci.

Miorine: ...kind of actually want to gay marry you, though.

Suletta: What?

Miorine: Nothing! Idiot!

...

Miorine: How DARE those cheating assholes arrest Suletta! I'm going to go down there and give my lousy father a piece of my mind!

Feng Jun: You know, we can still take you to Earth. Actually, we can leave right now. No need to bother with all that other stuff.

Miorine: ...

Feng Jun: So, is that a yes?

Miorine: I've decided that I actually want to gay marry that girl. Take me to her!

...

Suletta beats Guel for the second time.

Miorine: I would let her do terrible things to me and thank her for it.

Shaddiq: What?

Miorine: Nothing!

...

Miorine: I will protect that girl, because I am her bride!

Suletta: Oh shit, I actually want to get gay married.

...

Miorine: Our communication SUCKS, but I really do need you and want you to need me too. Do you want to get gay married for real?

Suletta: YES!

...

Suletta makes tomato sauce of that guy.

Suletta: Ms. Miorine, I came to save you!

Miorine: That was the most horrifying thing I've ever seen in my life! I have PTSD now! Kind of hot, though...

Suletta: What?

Miorine: Nothing! Murderer!

...

Miorine: Suletta, I'm breaking up with you, because you're a sap and I'm a bitch. Peace.

Suletta: NO! I WANT TO GET GAY MARRIED!

Miorine: ME TOO, DAMN IT! I LOVE YOU MORE THAN LIFE ITSELF AND IT'S KILLING ME TO HAVE TO HURT YOU LIKE THIS, BUT I HAVE TO BREAK YOU AWAY FROM THIS HORRIBLE WORLD IF YOU WANT TO HAVE HALF A CHANCE OF LIVING A NORMAL LIFE, EVEN THOUGH I WILL HATE MYSELF EVERY DAY FOR HAVING TO DO THIS TO YOU!

Suletta: ...what.

Miorine: I mean...see yah, loser!

...

Suletta: Ms. Miorine, could you please come out?

Miorine: I'm the lowest of the low. I did terrible things to you and other people. I thought I was doing the right thing, but I was only being used, and ended up hurting those closest to me for no reason. I'm a fool.

Suletta: So...do you still wanna get gay married?

Miorine: Yes, please.

...

Miorine headbutts Suletta

Miorine: Don't you dare die on me, idiot! We still need to get gay married!

Suletta: I swear to God, if I had working limbs and we didn't need these suits to survive the vacuum of space, I'd tear them right off of us and ravish you so hard it'll send you past Permet 8 and your dead tomato mom will feel it.

Miorine: What?

Suletta: You heard me.

Miorine: I'm taking that as a promise, then!

...

Suletta: So. We got gay married.

Miorine: Yes, we did.

Eri: Please don't make out sloppy-style again.

Miorine: We're doing it.

Eri: I'm still right here!

Miorine: Cope.

#gundam the witch from mercury #wfm #g witch #suletta mercury #miorine rembran #sulemio #suletta x miorine #this is how things went right?

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a-doubleh-x · 3 days

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Buttonblossom Analysis in TADC Episode 2

(Background rainbows: hint, hint)

Ragatha was so sweet to Pomni in episode 2 🥺💖 Most people caught onto the obvious fact that Raggs is being codependant and leans onto toxic positivity on the way she tries to cheer up Pomni, but I still think for the most part her heart is in the right place.

I liked their dynamic in episode 1, but I liked it so much in 2 I decided to write a little analysis on it (plus the ship fuel 👀) in preparation for the romance fic I'm writing about them.

Without further ado, let's go!

Looking back at Ragatha, on the good side, she made some very strong, active efforts to help her during her transition into the digital realm. She checked first thing in the morning if she was okay, she tried to make her feel included in the adventure at the beginning and showed care for her safety overall.

My favorite scene, though, is when the circus gang falls into the fudge river and after checking in on them, the first thing she says is: "Poor Pomni!" 😭 Girlie is so empathetic she even manages to care for someone who's not even there, while she's in a terrible situation herself!

I think this proves how much of a good person Raggs is. She doesn't just help people to feel good or superior, she does it because she geniuenly cares for other people's wellbeing and I find that very noble 😊

On the negative side, she seems to have some very particular communication issues with Pomni, even though she seems to be the circus memeber she cares the most about at the moment.

For starters, her attitude comes off as a little condescending very often. She hardly asks questions to Pomni and tends to assume for her. She hardly acknowledges some of her struggles and tries to downplay them, like when she degrades their experience as "larping". Also, she makes Pomni feel like a child when she tries to "hype her up" in her own words.

If we take Pomni's nightmare into consideration, it seems she believes Ragatha thinks Pomni is not "cut out for it", which might be a result of her condescending behavior I just mentioned.

This makes sense to me and also sheds a little bit of light on how Pomni sees herself as: small and insignificant. It's unclear at the moment how she was before on the physical world, but I speculate based on this evidence she probably didn't think she had much agency in her life (just how she feels in the circus).

At the end, however, thanks to her experience with Gummigoo and looking at the crew grief over Kaufmo's abstraction, Pomni opens herself more to the crew, which is a very good sign.

I think her current dynamic with Ragatha is wicked cool! ✨️ There's a lot of room for growth, which is good in my opinion. Ragatha clearly cares a lot about Pomni and I think with time she could grow to reciprocate her as well.

Despite her cowardness in episode 1, I always had the feeling that Pomz was deep down a caring individual as well, which was solidly proven in 2 with her interactions with Gummi.

On the fanon side, I saw a lot of fans foaming at the mouth (myself included) over the fact that Ragatha was such a tryhard with Pomni (which was anticipated to be the contrary). Some fans have interpreted their potential dynamics as both being shy, which I really, really like.

I believe I will definitely include that in my future fanfic. Another idea I wanted to explore is Pomni talking to Ragatha about her overbearing issues, while still appreciating her good qualities at the same time.

I think it's going to be great ☺️❤ I already look forward to what the end result is going to be. I love mutual pining and I love sweet lesbians caring for each other (even when they're silly girlfails). I'm planning to start by submitting chapter 1 by next Friday and submit a new one every following one, as I've done before.

Get ready for digital lesbian shenanigans 🎪💙🎀 See ya!

#the amazing digital circus #pomni #tadc ragatha #pomni x ragatha #ragapom #buttonblossom #ship dynamics

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faeriekit · 12 hours

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Health and Hybrids (XXII)👽👻💚

[I can't remember the original prompt posters for the life of me but here's a mashup between a cryptid!Danny, presumed-alien!Danny, dp x dc, and the prompt made the one body horror meat grinder fic.]

🖤Chapter navigation can be found here🖤 Click to browse previous updates.

💚 Ao3 Is here for all parts (now featuring mediocre mouseover translations, only available on a computer)

Where we last left off... SOMEONE (Danny) had a PANIC ATTACK (it was warranted) and now he's laying low and trying not to move.

Trigger warnings for this story: body horror | gore | post-dissection fic | dehumanization (probably) | my nonexistent attempts at following DC canon. On with the show.

💚👻👽👻💚

There’s a green guy in his room.

Danny keeps eating his mush. There’s mush apple in it today, for variety. It’s probably triple-pasteurized applesauce, but it’s something, and Danny’ll appreciate it while it lasts.

The green guy and the lady are talking. Danny is happy to ignore them—they’re quiet, and careful, even if they’re trying not to act too suspicious or too quiet. Danny has the sneaking suspicion that he’s supposed to be getting used to his presence. Like a cat meeting another cat, or something.

The thing is, Danny kind of remembers him—but his brain’s been so loopy and weird, it’s kind of…hard to be certain? There are some memories of pain, and some memories of stress, and…maybe he was there for one of his star-walks? Danny thinks?

His memories are all mush. Since waking up here, Danny’s been more confused the more he’s become aware.

He sticks his spoon in his mouth.

Hello, the green guy tries, flexing some oddly solid aura, but Danny’s very busily ignoring him; the television has another news segment on weather in places Danny’s never seen, and he’s trying really hard to remember what the extra letters actually sound like.

There’s, like, an ampersand in the middle of words here. What the hell is that supposed to mean?

I would like to talk, the not-ghost says without speaking, which is how Danny knows he’s not human. He doesn’t feel like a ghost, per se, and Danny’s breath is normal and as warm as his body can arrange it. It’s still weird though, since he clearly wants to communicate in some way, and Danny just.

He digs his teeth into the plastic spoon. It’ll leave little tooth-shaped dents. He focuses very firmly on the television spot. There are so many towns. Some of them have very silly names. One of them is having an asteroid shower, if Danny trusts his understanding of the icons they’re using.

Asteroids are cool. There’s a couple shots of the sky and a projected time at 8pm in some time zone. Maybe he can get the fast kid to tell his medical team he wants to see them. Maybe they’ll actually let him out of his room at night to watch…?

A hand gently fans at his sleeve so that the breeze jostles the fabric just a little bit. It’s a signal Danny’s gotten used to—a non-verbal, attention-grabbing signal that doesn’t require physical touch.

Danny looks. The lady waves.

He huffs.

“Licie,” the lady asks gently, but firmly. It’s a pretty insistent Please.

Please be polite with the guests, Danny. Your father loves Vlad, so please be nice, Danny.

…Danny doesn’t quite roll his eyes but he does. Look away. He doesn’t want to talk to them. Boundaries aren’t so… Empathic beings are…

“Do I have to?” he asks, and then remembers. Right. Different language. “Ic sceal?”

“Licie. Pleese.”

Danny’s face scrunches up. All the scarring his face probably has pulls taut. “…’Kay.”

“Min þanc.” Thanks.

Danny…reluctantly…faces the green guy.

He looks. Nice. Enough. He’d look better if he wasn’t staring—if Danny couldn’t physically feel how heavy the green guy’s attention was weighing down on him, pressing into his head and shoulders and neck, and—

Danny looks away. Again. The lady sighs.

The green guy sends waves of peace, calm, which is definitely a threat! Danny’s been smacked by Nocturn more than once! He knows what safety feels like when wielded as a weapon!

Apology wafts around the room, but Danny doesn’t want to hear it. Feel it. Smell it? Whatever. It has nothing to do with him. Danny wants to fiddle with the bits of his space station and maybe practice writing his name again, which has so far been less than a success. But he should probably introduce himself soon enough.

It’s only been. You know. …Literal months.

Questions and answers/queries and information? the green guy offers to trade, which is theoretically nice. But Danny’s been hunted for answers before—and sometimes just straight up hunted for fun.

There’s no information he wants to give.

Ask me? comes instead.

…Danny’s fingers still. Wait. He’s allowed to ask?

A bubble of amusement/worry bursts. Yes. If Danny has questions, he can apparently…ask.

Okay. Danny sets the space shuttle aside. He tilts his aura around, and bends it—if the green guy were a ghost, they’d be able to share more emotions with Danny’s guard slipped downwards. He’s going to bet it works…kind of the same way for whatever he is.

Who’s the lady? Does she have a name?

There’s a bubble burst of a memory—some dude in all black with little cat ears announcing This is Wonder Woman, hand out to present her to the listener. Without her scrubs on in the memory, she looks…like a warrior.

Armored. Strong. Black hair, gold gauntlets and red boots. Firm back. Like on the television

…In her scrubs, she just looks like the same lady as always. In his head, she looks as powerful and mighty as Pandora.

Danny’s heart picks up. Breathing becomes—harder. Does she fight? Does she fight all the time?

Memories of shared battles play out from the green being’s point of view: punching and throwing and whipping her lasso in the air and confidence and freeing prisoners and the power of the gods behind her, a royal in her own right—

…Will Danny have to fight?

The green guy murmurs something sad, grief flashing up against Danny’s low emotional shields. His hands reach out—but Danny leans back. He doesn’t want to be touched. He doesn’t want to feel the dude feeling bad for him. He just wants to know; will Danny be forced to fight?

There’s a deep, painful sympathy brushing up against him. Danny recoils. The thoughts of healing, doctors, naps, coming off his meds, recovery. Of concern, worry, Wonder Woman settling the patient’s blankets, his green-marred face raw and luminescent.

Healing. Resting.

Which. Danny glares. He gets that. But what happens after? Medical care is expensive, and Danny doesn’t even have hint of an idea of how long he’s been lying here. He knows that nothing comes free.

The green guy’s expression squeezes with concern. His head might be kind of funky-shaped, but the face is pretty human equivalent. Danny would have struggled to read Frostbite’s more than his. Danny doesn’t like that.

Danny misses beings he recognizes. He wants his friends. He wants Jazz. He wants Frostbite or Wulf or…or…

…Or Mom…or Dad…

Something touches Danny’s hand. Danny looks down. The green hand that reaches for him doesn’t grab, exactly, but it lets him know that the dude is there, at his side. I’m sorry, the guy says, more sentiment than thought. And then there’s a struggle to convey the next few thoughts.

…Because the guy doesn’t have as much experience of being outside as the school bell rings, children going in. Lunches in the headquarters cafeteria. The phone in Flash’s hand turned sideways, so that Martian Manhunter can see the dead-fish kiss between Rosalinda and Romero from last night's episode—

Wait, is the guy actually an alien? It’s kind of rude, but Danny. Gawks.

The concern hanging around in the air of the room turns into green-tinged amusement. The green dude and Danny have already had this conversation.

…Danny peeks at his water bottle on the side table and sheepishly rubs his nose. Ah. Whoops. They have?

Yes, the alien continues, and pulls his hand back. But they were having a conversation. About school. And healing. And recovering, and a comfortable space to rest, and an apartment on Earth and peace and family, and—

Danny shoves his emotional shields all the way back up before he. Before he forgets. His heart is pounding. He can’t look.

He can’t.

He.

…He can’t have that again.

The green guy—the martian wants to tell Danny something else, but he can’t—he can’t open himself up to that anymore.

Danny doesn’t have a mom anymore. Danny doesn’t have a dad anymore. His sister is—gone. He’s not going to hurt himself for wanting them back. There's no family and no house and no safety.

There are more quiet, empathetic presses against Danny’s emotions, but Danny pulls the covers up as high as they’ll go, and breathes through the thin cotton sheet pressed against his face.

It catches his tears, when he has them.

Someone mutters, and someone else mutters back. When Danny feels something touch his wrist through the cotton blanket, he can’t help flinching, but the speaker’s voice is familiar enough that he settles quickly enough. Danny listens to the lady—Wonder Woman, he remembers—hum softly.

…It’s a nice hum.

She hums, and she strokes his wrist, and she doesn’t go anywhere. She’s a stalwart, soft presence at his side.

It’s nice.

It's... Relatively, it's safe.

Danny eventually stops acting like a baby, and. Takes the sheet off. He isn’t crying, so there aren’t and tears to wipe away (there’s no need to check the footage, just believe him!), but it takes him a second to get himself reoriented to the room without a giant psychic presence in it.

But the whole time, the lady just…rubs his wrist, and then his mildly obliterated (but mostly healed!) hand. And hums. And lets Danny reorient himself, at his own pace, and in a safe space.

Danny sniffles. He hopes it’s all mucus in his sinus cavity, and not, like, more ecto. But who knows?

The lady tilts her head forward, until Danny can see the blue eyes peeking over her lavender surgical mask. Her hand comes to her chest to tap against the paper-thin PPE covering her top half.

“Wonder Woman,” the lady says, firmly and clearly. “Diana.”

…That’s a name. Danny’s nose scrunches. That's a human name. That's a very recognizable, extremely culturally familiar human name.

They never introduced themselves, right?

Maybe…well… He is in space. Maybe he’s far enough away that no one will know him if he says his name.

(Or maybe Mom won’t want him back anyway, even if she found him.)

And there’s probably a million black-haired kids named Daniel, anyway. It’s a biblical name. These people don’t even speak English or Esperanto, or anything else Danny knows; so maybe it’s. Safe?

And…maybe Danny just wants to hear his name said again.

“D…”

The lady frowns, and then eases closer. Danny—gently—tugs on a lock of her hair until she lowers, and his mouth can reach her ear.

“D’nny,” Daniel James Fenton whispers into Wonder Woman’s ear.

Diana raises herself back upright. Her eyes are wet.

“Danny,” she repeats back to him. Her callused hands gently take both of Danny’s scarred and lumpy ones. “Wel mete.”

“He believes that we are going to require his presence in combat as payment for his recovery,” J’onn reports diligently, and stuffs his trepidation deep into his countenance.

The league around him groans.

#Danny: who're you #J'onn: *deep sigh*#health and hybrids #dp x dc #danny phantom #dcu crossover #dpxdc #dcxdp #tw medical #tw gore #tw body horror

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ewingstan · 1 day

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If you had a chance to recommend (real-world) superhero comics to the Undersiders, which comics would you recommend and why?

Oh, good question. Its been a minute since I was really into comics (I gotta figure out how to reactivate my Marvel Unlimited account), but I think I have enough background to come up with some good picks.

Lotta good options for Taylor. My first thought is to give her Ewing's X-Men Red (aka "the main reason I need to catch up on Marvel comics"), since a superhero story that focuses a lot on gaining and maintaining societal power and the work of governing as a leader in a super-community seems like it would appeal to the Warlord of the Boardwalk. Plus a lot of it is "kill the previous leader in a way that ensures you have a popular mandate," which I'm sure she'd be a fan of.

If we're talking Taylor at the start of the story or younger—well, I don't know if it makes sense to give her runs of the character she's most a pastiche of, but maybe something that fits the Spider-Man niche could still be appealing for a young down-on-her-luck aspiring hero? I could see her getting something out of the Simone or Ahmed Ms. Marvel runs, for instance.

(While Watchmen might seem like the natural pick, I'm pretty sure she'd lose a lot of enjoyment just from picking out all the ways Veidt's plan was obviously gonna fail for x y z reasons. Also dark deconstructions of superhero worlds would probably seem too familiar to her world for her to enjoy it.)

If Taylor would be interested in comics statecraft, Lisa would probably be more interested in comics spycraft and intrigue. Ewing's S.W.O.R.D. would probably scratch the same itch for her that X-Men Red would for Taylor (and Storm dramatically blowing off Doom would probably satisfy her after all the ulcer-inducing negotiations with Accord.) I might also give her Ewings New Avengers and USAvengers runs (look this is gonna include a lot of Al Ewing recs, get used to it early) if only because I feel like she'd enjoy how Roberto gets characterized in those comics. Magnificent bastard solidarity.

If we're giving comics to Brian, we already need to work past his defensive avoidance of anything that seems too childish, so I don't think we're getting anything pre-dark ages. That said, he famously thinks "looking mature" means "sick-ass skulls and leather jackets," so his idea of maturity might skew a bit into McFarlane territory. Ultimately though I think he'd be most comfortable with something where he could plausibly say "this isn't just a comic, it's actually a well-respected piece of literature." I'd want that to mean Moore's Saga of the Swamp Thing, but it'd probably actually mean The Dark Knight Returns.

As a dark horse pick, I'd give Brian some early New Warriors or Ewing's Contest of Champions, if only because Night Thrasher feels so close to what he wants his vibe to be (dramatic black leather ensemble with a very 90's idea of cool, unflappable expert strategist who pulls his weight despite a powerset with limited applicability, died horribly and came back much later for weirdly impersonal reasons) while also being just ridiculous enough to make me want to see his reaction.

Given Iota's commentary on Alec's pizza habits, I'd think Alec would most be a fan of something intense and bombastic and not mind if its often repetitive. I'd almost say Berserk would be a good match for him, but parts of that that might actually be triggering for him. Maybe some other ultra-violent longrunning work; I haven't read Fist of the North Star but it seems like a safe recommendation; various X-Force runs could work if we're sticking with Western comics.

Rachel really doesn't seem like someone who'd have much appreciation for any aspect of comics. The best bet would be something visually spectacular in a way that could be appreciated on its own, and a plot that's interesting taking issues on their own and not just as part of ongoing runs. I could see Ewing's Immortal Hulk as fitting those criteria; her power gives her an artist's appreciation for Bennett's horrific depictions of the Hulk's transformations (even if praising Bennett for anything feels in poor taste).

Ewing's scripts for each issue of Hulk are clever in a way that I feel Rachel could find entertaining; they don't require an attention she couldn't keep up, but also aren't simple to the point of being condescending. Plus, the thematic focus on "what can and can't be solved through unspeakable acts of destruction" would feel familiar in a way that's less frustrating than normal comic tut-tutting about how obviously we can't attack these guys (plus the greater willingness to say "oh yeah unspeakable destruction definitely is the best way forwards here" would be pretty satisfying).

I feel like Aisha would have more patience for comic tropes than a lot of the other undersiders, (I could see her enjoying the original Fantastic Four run), but at the same time she'd probably enjoy something a bit more complicated and out-there. Ewing's Rocket might be appealing as heist-focused mini, and I feel like the mix of melancholy and absurdity would appeal to her. Rosenberg's Hawkeye: Freefall would work for similar reasons, though replace "melancholy" with "simmering rage."

Morrison's Doom Patrol and The Invisibles both have characters Aisha might relate to for the whole "society largely ignoring or wanting to go away" thing. Plus they both have big weird ideas she'd appreciate, Richard Case's art works well with her aesthetics, and they're both seen as "respectable" series to the point that she might like peppering in references to them in alongside Jules Verne jokes.

Huh, I just realized that Aisha and Brian both ended up chasing an appearance of being mature and somewhat surface-level and off-putting ways. Brian "trust me I'm a normal adult man" and Aisha "I've compiled spider-man quips for every work in the Western Canon and will get frustrated when you don't get them" Laborn, the "something ain't right about that kid" siblings.

(I will say that Morrison's Doom Patrol has some weird black stereotypes so if anyone wants to pitch me on a similar work without Morrison's occasional racism I'd be curious).

I'd give Rowell's run on Runaways to Sabah, if only because "somewhat antivillanous found family group of teens that mostly don't have to worry about anything besides relationship drama" sounds like a nice escape for her. Closer to what she wants the Undersiders to be like. Also, I feel she'd enjoy Kris Anka's focus on fashion in his art.

I don't have a lot to go off for Lily. I could see some of the more recent Captain Marvel runs appealing to her sense of true-blue militant heroism. Ayala's New Mutants or Ahmed's Black Bolt might help combat her whole "villains are ontologically evil" thing, at least to a certain extent.

#apologies for all the al ewing picks but. Cmon. You all know what im about.#greatwyrmgold #wormblr #wildbow #parahumans #mals reads worm #mals says #undersiders

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