#and then what will you be. somebody who knows the meanings of flowers? somebody who can read flower language?

[stop-breaking-my-heart-telltale]

Hey CJ 👋 I hope you’re doing well in life.

I’m on the same page as you, when it comes to taking a step back from TWDG & the fandom. And, coming back to the games after sometime & seeing it in a different light. Some things that didn’t click with you back then, makes a bit more sense now.

Also, I’m curious.. what are thoughts on true colors? Steph & Ryan? 👀

Hello, my friend! 👋 Been a while! But yeah, I'm doing fine; a lot of the usual work with writing fic and blog posts in between.

Yeah it's funny to step away from a fandom you're so engrossed in for so long, like twdg was such a huge part of my life back in 2018-2020 with me running this blog, writing fic, and streaming. Now I'm just in a completely different headspace in general, and looking at the games now, they're still amazing but my reasonings are different. Also I talk about the comics a lot, which isn't something I would've guessed I'd be doing. If you go back to when they were announced, I made posts being like "yeeeeeah I dunno if I'm gonna read them :/" jokes on me. I read them multiple times, I need to make that useful haha.

As for LiS True Colors, I actually super loved it?? way more than I ever did the first LiS game?? though I think I might've loved it for the wrong reasons. I don't know, I haven't actually looked into what LiS fans thought of it compared to the other games, but for me it was a "perfect time, perfect place" game in the moment. To me the whole thing was nearly a perfect escapism game; the music is an A+, the entire town is gorgeous and covered in flowers and woods, Alex gets to live in a nice apartment for free [the true fantasy], there's a whole LARP campaign to play through, a flower festival where I've never been so conflicted on who to give a rose to, and overall just the coziest vibes. I swear, I spent most of the game just wandering around the town looking at all the flowers, it was great.

Like if Gabe didn't die and True Colors was just about Alex moving to this fantasy-like small town and working through her issues with the help of her powers, I would've been 100% on board. I didn't mind the mystery, though I totally guessed Jed would be the twist villain given the first episode immediately presents him as a hero who saved a bunch of people in the mines, I was like "Oh did he now... mmhmmm mmhmmm and he's Ryan's dad, oohhh he's gonna be this game's Jefferson-" except he was done better than Jefferson imo. He didn't turn into a cartoon character and his motivations behind the cover up were interesting. He didn't do it for the aesthetic like Jefferson did. And in the end I got everyone to side with me, except Charlotte because I told her to take the money so she wanted to speak out but couldn't, which was honestly fine with me like take their money, send Ethan to college, we'll stab Typhon just fine without your vocal support.

I liked most of the characters, except for Diane and Mac, though I reluctantly disliked Mac less by the end... Diane can suck an egg, though. I don't think I've ever wanted to throw a character out a window more than when Alex came back all bloodied with a bullet wound on her head as she exposed the truth and when she asks why no one's saying anything, Diane just goes, "We don't want to embarrass you" kjlkajdslkjalkjdl LADY DON'T PISS ME OFF

As for Ryan and Steph, I liked them both, trying to choose between them was absurdly difficult. It was like True Colors saw how easily I picked between Louis and Violet and took it as a challenge to create Ryan and Steph specifically to stump me. I mean, soft boy who loves nature, goes out of his way to be kind and helpful to those around him, has a slow build up to being emotionally available with someone he trusts, and has some daddy issues? A girl with pretty brown eyes who loves DnD and LARP, has a passion for music and will deflect with humor, who knows who she is and is eager to help those around her, and who isn't just another rehash of Chloe? They knew what they were doing; they dressed Steph up in as a witch after having Ryan act like a goof acting like enemy creatures, they were made for me.

Having done both routes, I do prefer Steph. I adore her and Alex together, but Alex and Ryan are super cute, too.

It's not a perfect game and there are issues in the writing but honestly, I don't care. I had a good time. I was engaged. I looked at every single flower and kissed a pretty girl so good that the world exploded. What a great game.

[eightmakesonebraincell]

our leaves must fall before our flowers can bloom (teaser)

genre: poly hockey team!ateez x coach fem!reader, enemies/strangers to lovers, athlete!au, slow burn, fluff, angst

length: 1.0k (teaser) + approx. 38k (full fic)

c/w: sweaty ateez (warning well deserved), lots of hurt/comfort, one of the slowest slow burns to slow burn, remaining tags to be revealed with full fic

synopsis: you become the new coach of the elite men's ice hockey team, the red devils. but with both yourself and the team carrying burdens of the past, you all find it difficult to see eye to eye. as you lead them to the championships in the korean ice hockey league, you discover that teamwork and trust is not as straightforward as it seems.

a/n: when i started writing this i really thought it wouldn't exceed 25k but here we are :D full fic will be released in about a week and i am so ready

“she’s the new coach?” yunho frowns in confusion. “no offence, but we’re not a bunch of kids for her to practise being a soccer mum to.”

“she was the assistant coach for the grey eagles,” coach cho discloses.

“the grey eagles? the under-21 men’s championship team?” yeosang looks incredulous.

mingi sceptically comments, “the fact that we’ve never seen or heard of her before probably tells us enough.”

hongjoong’s lips purse sourly as he tries his hardest to analyse the situation with the professionalism of the team’s captain. but with the sudden change in coaches and the same critiquing doubts as mingi, hongjoong cannot help but feel his personal judgement webbing over his mind. over the team’s entire career as an elite ice hockey team thus far–five years, now well into their sixth–the red devils have only ever had two coaches. coach cho has been with them for the longest and whilst it took the team a while to eventually warm up to him, he has been with them for almost quadruple the amount of time it took to trust him.

the team’s alternate captain, seonghwa, speaks to you directly, “if you don’t mind me asking, why are you not playing as an athlete yourself? you’re clearly our age–nowhere near retiring.”

you knew from the very start that your age would make your credibility as a coach much lower, and your answer to seonghwa will not help your case either. “i stopped playing.”

“how come?”

the trigger of memories fills your nose with a sharp stinging smell. you blankly reveal, “i chose to stop playing.” you know exactly how it sounds like to somebody else, even more so to professional athletes. coach cho has also told you of the team’s hardheadedness and strong will when it comes to the passions of their career, so you are expecting the cold receptiveness that you are met with.

your response strikes the wrong chord within wooyoung. there was a point in his career not too long ago when the choice of continuing to play or not was at risk of becoming a forced decision. the way you answer so callously with those very words that had threatened to tear his world apart has his jaw grinding and eyes darkening, and he is not the only athlete in the arena who feels similarly.

“i would rather choose to die before i choose to stop playing. ice hockey is my entire life and without it, i am not living either,” hongjoong jabs and you cannot help but clench your fists because you know exactly what he means. still, you stay quiet as he continues, “sorry, but i can’t respect a ‘coach’ who chose to stop playing.”

at the captain’s words and subsequent move to leave for the changerooms, the rest of the team also gather their equipment and follow his steps. san’s feet falter in front of you, expression hesitant until he decides to voice, “our team needs a bit of time. it’s hard for us to warm up to…outsiders, and i know it might not mean much to say this but we have our reasons. don’t expect us to blindly trust you just because you’re a coach.”

the use of the word ‘outsider’ does not go unnoticed as you nod, “of course.”

san jogs off to rejoin the others and coach cho hums, “guess some things haven’t changed. they were just as prickly to me when i first became their coach.”

you raise an eyebrow, “prickly? to you?”

“yes, believe it or not,” he chuckles nostalgically. “we’ve come a long way because i’ve been their coach for years now. but it took me a while before i was able to break down their walls.”

you briefly mull over the information, then ask out of curiosity, “what would you have done if i didn’t sign the contract?”

“begged you to rethink your decision,” he jokes with a pleased chortle. “i would have to start looking for a different coach, i suppose. you were my only pick.”

“but why me, of all people? there are so many other experienced coaches that you can choose from.”

he looks at you, eyes glinting with intuition and confidence as he simply says, “you’re familiar with their playing style. they play just like you used to.” at your silent processing, coach cho probes, “why didn’t you tell them the real reason?”

you smile wistfully, “i didn't tell them because i’m not here to gain their pity.”

some of the boys’ voices grow louder as they emerge from the changerooms, changed into fresh clothes and their kit bags slung over their shoulders. you hear one of them ask, “captain, is she really going to be our new coach?”

they step out from the facility’s corridor and you accidentally make eye contact with hongjoong, yet neither of you look away. maintaining a steady gaze directly at you, he responds with a slight glower, “maybe, but she’s only the coach by title. i’m still the captain of the team, so let’s see who everyone listens to.”

as they exit the rink’s arena, you feel a fire of determination growing inside of you. you have won over your own demons and you have won the championships before–this is nothing in comparison. whether your next words are for coach cho or for yourself to hear, it does not matter.

“i may not play anymore but i was still once an athlete and no athlete has ever, in their career, wanted pity. i’m here to earn the team’s respect and i will win over them, especially their captain.”

you watch the swing of the glass door as it shuts behind the players, catching a brief glimpse of the trees lining the arena’s perimeter. it is the first day of autumn when you meet the red devils for the first time and outside, the leaves are beginning to change their colours.

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[cindol]

thinks about the thought of fiancé!nanami and fem reader

౨ৎ .ᐟ .ᐣ — blurb hcs(kind of ), fluff, suggestive,

a / n — trying out a new style of gradient so let’s just pretend this post is a test run lol

fiancé!nanami wants everything perfect for his future wife. He doesn’t care how crazy or illogical, this is your wedding he’s planning and a special day for both you and him.

fiancé!nanami doesn’t mind who gets invited to his wedding. Usually he would groan at gojo satoru being invited to things organized by him but when you give him a sympathetic look fluttering your lashes.

“I’m sure satoru’s adult enough now to get invited to a wedding baby, I sent an invitation to suguru and shoko so they’ll keep him in check.”

he sighs then looks at you and the empty letter you were gonna write to satoru. With anybody else he would say no, but you’re his woman, his childhood sweetheart.

“only for you, but I feel like just a e-mail would do instead of us doing a thousand letters to our friends baby.”

“I like the effect kento! Makes me feel old school.”

fiancé!nanami knows what his wife likes and has the florist pick only the best orchid’s and peony’s for the venue.

fiancé!nanami has a hard not peaking at your dress fitting so he stays home but always wants updates.

“kento baby, I can’t get you every detail on my dress fitting now! The tailor’s still trying to get measurements.”

“I know I know darling I just want to check up.” that’s such an excuse but it slips off his tongue naturally.

you hum into the phone tapping your nail till you answer.“tell ya what, I’ll give you a detailed description on what my groom will be expecting to see on the big day.”

“wow me.”

“satin dress, goes all the way down to my legs but hugs my curves just right.”

that description was enough for him to pause in the middle of his own sentence.

fiancé!nanami once he sees the dress at the wedding when you’re coming down the aisle with his grandfather leading you down his stotic strong straight face nearly cracks seeing you all glammed up in that long mermaid wedding dress makes him sweat. Not from nervousness but from the fact he may be getting hot seeing your body stick out the way it did in that satin white dress.

once you both kiss and say the vows you’ve promised to one another immediately wants to rush to the honeymoon and skip reception. Seeing even your backside while you’re talking shoko’s ear off while waving you hand to show her the ring on your finger got him flustered. Immediately he was grabbing your hand before you got the chance to excuse yourself from shoko.

Near a lonely wall he was giving you neck kisses making you giggle and stop him for a moment to talk.“I see somebody wanted more kisses but don’t you wanna wait baby? loads of food and I know haibara is gonna wanna talk your ear off.”

nanami didn’t wanna be rude. This was the day you waited but all he could think on is wanting to rip that dress off of you in a hotel room. Scratching the back of his head and rubbing his neck he tsked, would he wait all the time for the reception to be over or skip to the night with his beloved?

he’d rather skip.

“I mean this so much respect sweetheart, but seeing you this beautiful in your gown makes me just wanna jump ship and go to the honeymoon already.” his eyes scoped you from down to up looking at your bust to how the dress flowered down to your legs.

that already got you biting your lip. Seeing nanami in this flustered state while touching at his hair made you wanna immediately follow after him.

“You think the others will mind or care seeing me disappear off?”

“If you tell satoru he won’t give a damn, just make a slick cocky comment and make some excuse to the others.” Nanami wasnt fond on gojo but he knew how he thinks. is

fiancé!nanami is gentle with you on the honeymoon night. As thirsty as he was to just get to that hotel room with you that he specifically got the hotel to set up with champagne and rose petals he couldn’t care less about them.

Taking each arrival of clothing off of you was what he took great care of. Slowly he lifted your bridal veil showing your pretty face, eyelashes batting at him and lips all pouty. His thumb swiped near you lip making you pout.

“You’ll mess up my lipstick kento!”

“It won’t be here for long darling, I can promise that.”

fiancé!nanami treats your body like a work of art to be appreciated on this honeymoon night.He first started by neck kisses just to get you hot and bothered with more kisses in the middle of your cleavage also till you just explode.

“Just do me already kento!” saying it in a immature way but he knew exactly what you meant.

fiancé!nanami that night nanami kento made you happy a bride.

[alilarew23]

assign yourself a new role

i know people can find states of consciousness a bit confusing, so here's a super simple exercise you can do to locate (and then be and persist in) your ideal self.

imagine somebody comes to you and says you can be anybody, instantly. you think--in terms of manifestation--well, i want to manifest my SP, so i guess that means i want to be SP's girlfriend?

ok, but what does that mean? what does that look like for you? what does that feel like?

well, i want my SP lovingly obsessed with me, spoiling me, blowing up my phone 24/7, buying me flowers and gifts and a ring, taking me on all sorts of fancy dates and trips, racing home to me at the end of the work day...

ok, so your new identity is "obsessed over, spoiled girlfriend."

i want you to imagine, now, you're on a movie set, and the director comes to you and says, "your job is to be THE obsessed over, spoiled girlfriend. i'm not giving you any lines, though. i'm not telling you how to dress or how to act. you gotta adlib, you gotta do it now, and you gotta keep doing it. that's it. that's the task."

you say ok, and you feel a switch go off within you, right?

you're no longer the person who's obsessively manifesting an SP. no. your SP is chasing you. you cannot get this man to stop texting you. you're thinking, "oh my god. he is such a simp for me, it's almost funny. he'll do anything he can to spend every second with me." you get home from shopping and--he left flowers on your doorstep? and a note? holy shit. your SP wrote you a love poem?!!?! and bought you tickets to ITALY?!

you probably feel...different...in your body, too. energetically. much more secure, powerful, maybe even sensual, a bit savage. focused on yourself and your goals, other areas of your life like friendships and work. all that neediness and yearning and pain just--dissipated. you're no longer the desirer. you're the desired.

feels good, doesn't it?

well, you just shifted your state.

that all took place in imagination, but it felt real because...spoiler alert...it is real.

you're not imagining to become.

you imagine and you are.

instantly.

so you continue imagining. not because you want to "get" your SP (though you will, by law), but because "obsessed over, spoiled girlfriend" is the identity you've chosen, and you love being her. it feels right to you, natural, effortless, authentic. feels like who you are, like your truth.

(also, you don't want to get fired by the movie director, who is the most badass person alive...oh, right, that's you, too).

this applies to anything, and doesn't need to be a singular identity. you can be "obsessed over, spoiled girlfriend" and "rich as fuck powerhouse crossfit champion of the world" and "the most sought after dog walker in all the land" and "baker extraordinaire" and "bestselling author with a three-book deal." these are all just states of consciousness, and your ideal self is all you assume you are, all wrapped in one.

have FUN.

be because it feels good, because it's true, because it's you.

your world will--because it must--re-shape itself around you.

[lavendertalks311]

Synopsis: Does Kento get jealous? Nah..definitely not..right?

Warnings: more cute shit. Sorcerer reader, female reader. Nanami x female reader. Not proofread 😽

———————————————————————————

I don’t imagine Nanami to get jealous often, he wouldn’t be with somebody he doesn’t know inside and out. He trusts you, but his predicament are the other men. He does not trust other men.

He knows how they are, topics ranging from a woman’s weight to their ability to have a sex appeal, he did not want any of those things to be discussed or even associated with you. To him, you were heavenly, a delicate flower that should be protected. He knew you could defend yourself, but when it came to other men that had ill intentions, he preferred to be by your side or around you at the very least.

So, when you were around the all-so-flirtatious Satoru Gojo, your boyfriend knew not to worry about you, but more so Gojo. The tall, white haired sorcerer had his long arm drooped over your shoulders as he walked with you through the hallways of Jujutsu High, talking about Utahime.

“And then I said, ‘What kind of idiot picks on the strong?’ Can you imagine the look on her face?” Gojo then laughs, hunching over as he puts a hand on his stomach.

“You pick on her too much Satoru.” You laughed, slightly tilting your head backwards. Right then was when your boyfriend’s brow twitched, seeing you with Gojo? Sure, whatever, he knows you won’t do anything. But the use of his first name? Satoru? The way it rolls off your tongue, almost the same way as his name did?

“Okay but Y/n,” Great, now the use of your first name? He averted his eyes from his student, Ino Takuma, to the sound of your laugh from your sweet lips. “It’s easy on her because she just lets it happen to her. I wouldn’t pick on somebody like you.”

Now what in the hell did he mean by that? The way he emphasized ‘you?’ Nanami’s eyes were flickering between Ino, and how close Gojo was to you as he said it. Too close for his liking- too damn close to be near his woman.

Nanami took a deep breath in frustration, fully knowing what he was feeling, he almost felt upset about it. Of course you wouldn’t do anything, so why should he worry? Your eyes didn’t glow when you looked at Gojo in comparison to Kento. With Kento, you had adoration, loyalty, devotion, you would never in a million years.

But that damn arm of his colleague swooped around your neck, pulling you into a hug as you both laughed about-

“Uhh, sensei?” A voice from the student across from him broke him out of his thoughts. Although a melancholic look in his face, his eyes said everything he truly felt. “Are you okay?”

Nanami groaned, slightly shifting in his seat with his arms crossed. “My apologies, Ino. What about your skateboard?”

( Ino gives me skaterboy vibes so roll w it )

“Oh, I was just saying-“ Nanami’s mind went straight back to your laugh filling the room. He tried, he truly tried to pay attention to Ino’s words, but he didn’t like the way Gojo had his arm around you. The way it so comfortably sat, hanging over the crook of your neck.

After what felt like an eternity, Gojo finally let lose of your shoulders, waving bye as he followed a very enthusiastic Yuji to the movie room, something about an earthworm?

He subtly rubbed the bridge of his nose, sighing at the fact he really got jealous because his colleague- who flirts with everybody- was being overly friendly with you.

But you, oh, of course you were ever so observant, knowing if your longtime friend had gone overboard, your lover would have caused havoc to you later on the bed, further proving to you that you were only his.

———————————————————————————

Puuurrrr since the last one got so popular I present jealous Nanami 🩷🩷

[tarotwithavi]

Similarities and differences between you and your fs

These pictures do not belong to me, they belong to their rightful owners

How to choose a pile?

Close your eyes and take a deep breath and ask the angels to show you the right pile for you and open your eyes. The first pile that catches your attention is the right pile for you.

PAID READINGS ARE OPEN!!

Masterlist

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Pile 1

Similarities

Both of you know your worth; you will not tolerate any kind of disrespect. I see that both of you will not try to hide your mistakes; you will take proper accountability for your actions, and you will never put the blame on somebody else. I see that you guys are into spirituality or you have a great thirst for knowledge and growth. Your future spouse will also be interested in learning and expanding their knowledge, so you guys will be learning a lot together. I also see that you are a really patient person. You believe in hard work, and you believe that discipline is better than inspiration, and this is something that your future partners will admire a lot about you. This may be something that they will learn from you in the initial stages. I also see that they are similar to you in a way; you guys seem to have similar eating habits. If you are vegan or vegetarian, then they may also be vegan or vegetarian. Both of you may be from a country that has a humid atmosphere or a country that is prone to getting heat waves. Overall, I do see that you guys have a high tolerance. Similar customs, I see that even if you guys are from different religions, the customs or practices are somewhat similar.

Differences

Okay, so I see that one of you may have a really deep voice, or you may talk in a way that appears or sounds angry; the accent may be different. Another difference is how you deal with loneliness: one of you may not like being lonely, and the other one may love their alone time, so the one who loves their alone time may require a lot of their time, and this will be something that may be a bit challenging. Another message I'm getting is that the difference in languages may be that they speak a different language, and sometimes it's difficult to understand what they are trying to say. Overall, I see that the way they talk may be difficult to understand or comprehend. They may use complex words because I do see that one of you has a really rich vocabulary. You may be someone who assumes quickly, or they may be the one who assumes quickly, but I do see that one of you jumps to conclusions while the other one tries to understand the situation. And this will help you guys deal with complex situations because sometimes their quick conclusions may help you.

Pile 2

Similarities

Okay, so I see that both of you love to travel and explore different things. I also see that you guys are quite adventurous. Both of you will travel a lot together, and I see that your destinations or the places you would like to visit are the same, so you will be fulfilling your wishes of traveling to that certain place with them. Another message I'm getting is that both of you have a deep love for luxurious things and pretty things. Maybe you guys are Venus dominant, or Venus is really strong in your chart. I also see that both of you have a huge love and admiration for your family. Both of you respect your parents, grandparents, and the people who help you be who you are today. I also see that both of you may have pretty parents? Idk lol maybe your parents look younger than their age or their parents may look younger than their age. Another thing I see is that both of you may have the same number of siblings. Or your families may have known each other. I also see that both of you love beaches, or you grew up near a huge water body, or you feel connected to water in some way. Swimming may be significant. I also see that your names have similar meanings but in different languages. Both of you can have curly hair. You may have the same favorite flower.

Differences

Okay, so I see that one of you had a lot of responsibilities forced upon them from a really young age, while the other barely had to deal with responsibilities. Or it can also mean that one of you cannot handle a lot of responsibilities at once. One of you may get overwhelmed easily, or I do see that one of you may have anxiety. I also see that one of you was really lucky in everything and everything just seemed to come easily, and they barely had to worry about anything, while the other had to struggle a lot in order to get the same results. Even though your families knew each other, maybe the financial positions were different because I do see that there seems to be a difference in financial terms. One of you seems to be the cherished child, while the other seems to be the neglected one, so this is one of the major differences that you guys may have had growing up. I also see that one had a good relationship with their father, while the other did not. Another major difference is with education and ethics. One of you may have studied from an international university or a university that is well-known, while the other may have studied from a not so popular institute.

Pile 3

Similarities

Both of you are really possessive of your belongings and the people you love. You match each other's level of possessiveness, and I see that this is something that you guys would actually love about each other because you just seem to understand why you are possessive of one another. Another message I'm getting is that both of you are really calm. You guys may not like crowded places or places with a lot of noise. You guys would rather stay at home than go outside on weekends. I also see that some of you like to collect things, and this can be anything, for example, crystals, stationery, books, shells, etc. Your significant other would also have some kind of special interest or obsession about collecting. Both of you have great love for nature, and you guys seem to enjoy horror movies. You may like to talk about conspiracy theories, mysteries, and all that. I see that you guys have really similar interests, and I also see that you have similar personalities, so you guys will vibe really well. I also see that you like storms or windy days. Both of you may like to take pictures of clouds or the sky. Birds may be significant. I also see that you guys are really protective of the people you love and the things you cherish. You guys may also like to take a lot of pictures, videos, etc.

Differences

Okay, so while both of you have similar interests, one of you may talk a lot or talk really fast while the other may be a slow talker. I also see that one of you sleeps a lot, and by that I mean a lot; maybe some of you even sleep around 12 hours a day. Another message I'm getting is that one of you gets tired really easily and requires a lot of time to rest and rejuvenate, while the other can spend days without having proper rest. I also see that one of you may walk really fast or may have long legs, while the other may be a slow walker. I don't know what it is, but fast and slow seem to be the main difference. Overall, I'm not getting any specific things you guys are quite similar to each other, so there are fewer differences.

[saturngalore]

afrofuturism🪐

☆ one ~ solange hair by darknightt (tsr warning) ☆ two ~ loretta hair by @simtric ☆ three ~ bahati braids by @sheabuttyr ☆ four ~ isonoe hair by octetsica ☆ five ~ binah braids by @sheabuttyr ☆ six ~ cornrows & curls hair by @leeleesims1 ☆ seven ~ indie hair by @sashima ☆ eight ~ loc petals by @shespeakssimlish ☆ nine ~ mnemosyne hair by octetsica ☆

mini dedication essay to black simmers and ts4 creators below! pls read if you have the chance! <3

this edit is a small homage to afrofuturism and the various unique black hairstyles (and especially the black creators of most of these hairs) that i have downloaded and admired over the years! some of these are old and some of these are new.

to me, afrofuturism means constantly honoring/reclaiming/challenging the past while constantly creating/dreaming of a better society/world/future. a society/world/future that embraces and empowers all of our differences, ingenuity, aspirations, and unique lived/cultural experiences. a society/world/future that does not limit us through the various systems of marginalization and oppression (racism, homophobia, transphobia, fatphobia, sexism, xenophobia, ableism, classism, colorism, etc.) that often affects how we, as black people, live today.

blackness is so diverse and intricate yet it's always been a struggle to find my culture within a game that's known for being so limiting, bland, and extremely eurocentric when it comes to hairstyles, clothing, food traditions/events, etc. black simmers have always had to figure out how to make this game more inclusive and make it resemble either more like how our ancestors lived, how our current lives are, or how we would want our lives (and even our children's lives) to look like in the future no matter how dystopian the real world look and feel now. fortunately, these hairs and their uniqueness bring a huge sense of culture and style to this game. they have always inspired me and made me feel extremely proud to a part of the lovely african diaspora (and the ever-growing black simmer community).

in a way, being a black simmer and cc creator usually means that we are often digitally creating our own worlds as afrofuturists to varying degrees (whether we know it or not) every time we open our game, make our sims, make houses, and/or make black cultural cc. also, now i know that cc making is not easy to do and is extremely time-consuming so this post is also just me giving all black cc creators especially those who create for free their well-deserved flowers! here are some other black cc creators who created cc that have greatly impacted my game since i first started playing sims 4: @/leeleesims1 @/simtric @/hi-land @/yuyulie @/sims4bradshaw @/ebonixsims @/xmiramira @/sheabuttyr @/qwertysims @/oplerims @/sleepingsims @/shespeakssimlish and so many more im forgetting probably (im too shy rn to tag ppl but i greatly appreciate y’all fr i hope y’all telepathically get this message somehow 😭).

last but not least, i am hoping that this inspires somebody to keep creating or start creating regardless of what they think their skill level is! somebody will absolutely fall in love with your work and/or your art/work will 100% change someone's game forever <333

[comfortless]

The way you write König makes me cry and dry heave cuz you balance his loser unhingeness and his heartbreaking tenderness is✨ ART✨

Now I feel like you would be able to EAT this prompt up but imagine König as Frankenstein’s creature that is this big ass hulking mass of body that immediately makes the town grab their pitchforks but he can DESTROY them in seconds. But inside he is just a little guy who just wants somebody to hold and love (and other activities if ya know what I mean

Keep doing what you do❤️

A Place For Us

Frankenstein’s creature! König x fem! horologist reader

content/warnings: 18+. minors do not interact. discrepancies!, reader is implied to have anxiety, angst & fluff, non-malicious stalking?, loner/loner dynamic my beloved.., brief mentions of previous murders and religious imagery, codependency, smut; masturbation, unprotected piv.

notes: receiving this ask was so funny to me because @melancholic-thing and i have been bouncing this idea around forever (i simply could not have brought this any justice without ghost’s input— if you see this please know that ily dearly). thank you, anon for your kind words and finally giving me the push that i needed to write it! 💘

wc: 10.6k

You’re good at fixing broken things; tinkering with them with a set of well-polished tools until they begin to tick, or chime, or cuckoo.

Some take longer than an afternoon sat before the wooden desk, weeks or months— a year, once. Oiled parts and small cogs, the three arms that jerk and glide over a face riddled with numbers that all lull you into feeling that your work is not just some monotonous service only the rich buzzards could afford, but as if you were a healer of sorts; a little cleric stationed to bring life into whichever jagged, broken thing has been dropped or kicked at her doorstep.

This one, however… you’re convinced it’s as good as dead.

No matter how many times you take apart the little, gray pocket watch, the arms refuse to move. Its ticking sounds less like that of the beating of the heart and more like the grinding of dry teeth, a corpse begging, pleading to let this attempted resurrection come to an end.

Your tweezers wrench the face free, and all at once it proves too much— bending and warping beneath the metal grip until it cracks, a split right through it, down to its very center.

“How…” Your voice fills the void of ticking, pseudo-silence surrounding you. A word slipped out in frustration and unknowing before you finally toss the wretched little thing onto the desk with a clatter and step aside.

The house is as dark and brooding as always, too large for a woman on her own and a workshop that hardly counts as a proper business. Shelves of broken clocks serve as decor where potted plants and well-loved photographs should sit in their stead. Books of study for modern devices such as these in place of the poetry and worn love letters other women seemed to have in abundance.

This place was starved out of light, even with the flickering glow of candles and the electric humming of the unnatural yellow one above.

The sun is no stranger, either, your curtains neatly pulled aside to allow for it to filter through like an invited guest. Only it doesn’t, not on such a melancholic gray day.

You need a walk, a distraction, or this hungry home would be certain to rip away your work from the shelves and swallow you whole instead.

Isn’t it such a tragedy that, someone who pours her creativity and all of her love into time, all she seems to do is waste it?, the gaudy wallpaper seems to taunt, all the colors of filthy maroon and darkened blue flowers seeming to make it feel more imposing and less of a comfort.

Your hand curls around the handle of your umbrella, a sturdy thing, but just as drab as the rest of the home. Then, the package you’ve been putting off delivering to the elderly woman in town. Best to get it done with now, maybe upon your return the hands that fix could do so once again.

Shame about the clock face though. You would certainly have to patch together another and pray the pocket watch’s owner wouldn’t notice.

The wind is not what you had anticipated.

Outside is different. The howling of it past the windows and shuddering through the attic felt perfectly at home in your shoddy little house, but as the door swings shut behind you, it feels entirely alive. Cold and bitter and angry— the things you keep repressed that nature lacks the tact to.

The trees bend and sway from its invisible yet incessant pushing. The hand containing the package falls down to the lap of your skirt to keep it from flying up just as your other clutches the umbrella ever tighter to keep it from billowing out into the air to be left discarded miles away.

It isn’t a short walk to town, but with the wind and the drizzling rain, it almost seems as though you’re in more tender company than the lumber and the ticking clocks.

The path through the forest is overgrown as always, branches are pushed aside and your skirt is lifted to avoid burrs and thorns.

You should have had the sense to bring along a coat, because when the thunder does strike up and the rain finally begins to fall in heavy, hurried drops, you find yourself shivering terribly with the package guarded against your chest.

Lamplight would have done well, too.

You would have almost happily allowed yourself to toss aside the umbrella and be battered by the rain if you could only see. The forest is dark on days like this, with the canopy of thick branches and their dense leaves blocking out any sliver of light cast down from overhead.

It’s only by sheer luck that you don’t manage to trip, toss your delivery into the shadow of a tree and lose it entirely before you do make it out. When the trees finally part to the barren hill overlooking town you breathe a sigh of relief, a quiet thanks for the grayed light above.

Your steps are hurried as you make your way through the quiet town. The shop windows are all lit aglow with the silhouettes of people inside, strangely dancing like shadows through a fog. A place you can not be, can not touch.

The stares the townsfolk give you make your skin crawl, as though they are so close to being what you are but not, only tied down to your world when they think themselves lofty. Their eyes always seem to question, scrape under your skin with sharpened arms, ticking and flaying, always asking: Why?

You face forward as your skin begins to prickle, not from the wet or the chill but a subdued sort of fear that nestles burning into your chest, sets your heart rushing like a rabbit.

The streets are silent enough, a small blessing; any passing strangers are hurriedly skittering through the rain and muck to hide away in their homes, children ushered with a hand to their back by flustered looking mothers, complaining in hushed voices about the rain. You only smile at them and step aside when your paths cross.

They never smile for you.

It’s why the broken clocks are delivered to your doorstep rather than brought inside, addresses and names from muffled voices calling out beyond your thick wooden door, coins and bills pushed through the mail slot to lie cold on the welcome mat. The bell above the door never chimes, and you only make your deliveries on days like this, when the rain or the dark blanket you up to keep you safe and eternally somber.

You leave the package on the doorstep, covered from the rain by a small, vermillion awning. One sharp knock is given and you’re back on your way, back to the old house, to the simplicity of the ticking, the comfort of the old cobweb on the vaulted ceiling and the drab gray of the bleakness.

There are puddles now, glistening with any light they can suck into their depths, threatening and taunting as the dull stares and that rickety old desk you really should fix. You think for a moment, that perhaps no one would even notice if one of those dark pits of rain water pulled you in entirely, only to splash through it with ease, dirtying the ends of your skirt.

The rain lessens when you crest the hill, the forest less a tangle of clattering limbs and now only a gentle sway reaches the tops of the trees, light filtering through them, as if to guide you on your way. It doesn’t lessen the bushels of thorns, the tree limbs downed and scattered over the path. In some small blessing, you’re able to scramble over them without having to plan a visit to a tailor to repair a ripped gown; scrubbing the mud from it would surely be tedious enough.

The droplets splatter against the dirt and fallen leaves in hushed bursts, the forest alive as always with the cooing of nesting birds in spite of the rain. The only thing that seems out of place is a sudden, soft thud, the snap of a branch underfoot. Just one footfall, and things return to a placid state amidst the sky’s tears.

You raise your head to glimpse in the direction, gaze sweeping over the figure of a man some paces off to your left. Beneath the shadow of a broad, twisting pine layered in thick branches, his details are mostly obscured, a thin trail of silver light only casting aglow the glimpse of a blue eye.

He’s only large enough to notice, shoulders slumped and chest rapidly rising to fall like a frightened animal; as his silhouette shifts just so you even consider that he’s shivering.

There’s something in that stare of somber blue that splinters at the wall of discomfort; it is not accusing, not bitter, worn and cold. Curious. Something akin to your own.

Damn your sweetness, your inability to simply let things be even as that ache twists around in your chest, clawing at a cage of bone and hissing that you keep silent. Be on your way. Don’t look back.

Instead, you extend your umbrella outward, toward him.

“Awful rain, hm?,” you chime.

The figure visibly tenses, seems to shrink into himself for a moment before straightening and giving one solemn nod.

“You can take my umbrella. I’m almost home, anyway.”

That seems to spark something, not much, but the stranger does take a step forward. Your eyes catch on the wet, matted hair clinging to his head, cascading down to shroud a face you still can’t quite make out.

The poor thing stirs something in you, a deep sympathy that clouds even the judgment of that flighty, skittish thing resting deep inside.

Even from such a distance it’s clear that he’s been neglected, likely cast off by the town even less favorably than you have. His scent carries on the breeze, like dirt and wood and misery.

You extend the umbrella again before realizing he won’t come any closer with you being there. So, you lower it to the ground, avoiding the mud as best you could and leave it. If he took it, fine. If not, you travel this path so often it would be collected in time.

The figure mutters something as you rise, a low string of foreign words that you can only interpret as being spoken out of surprise, perhaps even gratitude.

You smile toward him as you wipe fat, slithering raindrops from your brow.

“You don’t want to catch a fever.”

With that, you’re back on your way, thoughts of the rugged stranger weigh heavy on your mind as the roof of your home comes into view, stilted and in the same drab navy as the flowers on the wallpaper.

You could have done more. It had been instilled into you to not to open the door for someone you did not quite know, yet a part of you longed to take care of something not simply fed by oil, something only capable of telling you how much time you’ve sat alone as thanks.

Surely it was best not to let it distract you.

This was good enough.

The key is produced, the door opened, and just like the many times before that you have forced yourself from this place, the house seems less unsettling upon your return.

As what little daylight remains fades away into night, you find yourself seated, toying with the old pocket watch once more. It’s the only one that doesn’t make a lick of sense, a puzzle that can not be solved. For all the polished parts and meticulous tinkering, it still won’t work properly.

It grates and growls as though rusted, the cogs shifting inside with each movement of the arms are well-polished yet seem to do little but hiss and spit.

This is the fourth time you have taken it apart only to put it back together with no improvement.

There was little to be known about the man who owned it, some pompous, arrogant creature that you had only seen in passing. He had turned his nose up to you, you were sure of that, only to deliver this dying thing to your door the following day.

Your work had always been compared to your father’s. Though you possessed a similarity in skill, you were not what the townsfolk had deemed to be respectable. An unwed lady out on her own, biding her time repairing what they had broken rather than feeding hungry mouths delivered from her very womb, how terribly scandalous.

The pocket watch is set aside as you busy yourself tailoring a small sheet of metal for it. The graduations are carved in with a sharp razor, impeccably angled. Then, the Roman numerals, just before it’s slotted back into place.

The likeness to the former face is nearly uncanny, it’s only sturdier and less susceptible to ripping from the mere touch of tweezers. The rust s gone from the casing, and at long last— it ticks; no grinding growl as the second hand begins its revolution. The fickle thing just needed a touch up, you supposed as you flick off the desk lamp and rise to your feet.

The curtains are drawn as they always were when you step into the bedroom. The muddy dress is finally peeled away as you change and slink into the covers, and just for a moment, you almost think that you feel the animal between your breasts begin to settle too.

———

There’s a letter stuffed into the mail slot: crumpled with no postage stamp, scrawled across some scrap of paper that surely was plucked from a garbage bin.

You marvel at the lack of care for a moment before your fingers do find themselves pawing at it, unfurling the worn edges to find the words: Thank you.

Written in thick black ink, there’s a clumsiness to it, the dance of a quivering hand holding pen. You think back to the elderly woman you had made that delivery to only yesterday; had she trudged through the mud and muck just to bring you this?

Her thanks was only needed in the blessing of payment, and she had already generously done just that when she left her little humming wall clock at the door.

You flip the note over, inspecting it carefully. There’s a line there, too, hastily scratched out in the same black ink, the lines crossing and digging leaving little pinprick holes in the paper.

Holding it to the light, you can just barely make out the words: I have been alone.

Your mouth dries at the sentiment, tongue flicking out to try and force a wetness to your lips. The animal begins its keening howl, a chain rattling as claws sink into your innards; the very same agitated fear that starved you out of comfort day in and out.

The man in the forest, perhaps. You were sure that you would have remembered seeing someone so disheveled and tall about town, and if not for a certainty that he had not followed you home, you would have assumed it was him. Gratitude finally said, and well on his way to someplace else.

There’s nothing here for him or anyone else, surely he could see that. Even you could.

The walls around you seem to bulge, the room shrinking once again as every little thing held within begins to taunt and yowl. Safety was only a temporary luxury, it always has been.

The letter is discarded onto a table, as you opt to hazard a peek out of your curtains instead. The gray from yesterday remains as thick clouds crowd above, threatening another storm. The treetops and tall grass dance in the breeze, freeing leaves and breaking flower stems. There’s no one standing there to greet you, to explain themselves for the strange message that they had left.

The town had probably already driven you to madness, picturing things that were not there while old fools jab you with ominous letters and jeering stares to see just how long it would take to watch you fall apart.

Another delivery day it would be, then; best to get it out of the way before the rain begins to fall.

Maybe you could even retrieve the umbrella along the path, discarded, battered from the rain and likely unused.

You don’t bother packaging the pocket watch, choosing to hastily stuff it into the pocket of your coat instead. Courtesies be damned. Tea and a warm bath would do well when the house was sated by your absence, when you were finally given time to breathe.

In your haste, you nearly kick over what’s been left on the uppermost stair leading to your door.

You find a table clock covered in a thick black fabric, a little note attached to it giving the owner’s name and address, and a small bag containing payment.

It’s all securely placed inside, next to the ugly letter on the table.

Your umbrella doesn’t wait on the path, but you’ve hardly the mind to care. Your hand tightens around the pocket watch as you cord your way down the path and back into town, rushing amidst the foliage until the sounds of your footfalls are dulled by the street.

Reaching the house, a towering narrow building that smells like tobacco even from outside, your hand curls to knock at the door in the same breath taken as the chain is plucked to place it on the knob, intent on scurrying away immediately to avoid the disgusted gaze of the man that waits inside.

You don’t quite make it far enough before the door swings open and you’re greeted by a round face, nose upturned and lip curled into a sneer.

That isn’t imagination.

There’s a genuine hate in this man, seeping down into his bones that makes him almost seem to reek like sulfur through the cloud of cigarette smoke that wafts around him. It’s the face of someone who would love nothing more than to see your own damnation, watch the earth suck you in until your wails fall silent and a fire roars upward in your wake.

“This isn’t my watch, dear.”

“Parts needed to be replaced,” you explain, voice tight and keening like a wolf in a trap, “I assure you that I—“

“It’s shoddy work. Any clocksmith up north would have done better for half the price..”

It goes on like this for what feels like at minimum thirty revolutions, but it must have only been five or so. His droning voice makes it hard to keep track, buzzing as he examines your work, hours wasted upon aiding such an awful creature.

He only seems to grow bored of his chiding when you fall to silence. He wants a reaction, not a wide-eyed fretful stare and pursed lips caging in any sound that may bubble up from your throat.

In one final act of detestation, the watch is tossed to the ground, stomped in repetition until the hands snap, the ticking quiets, and you see months of your work brought to ruin in a mere seven seconds.

He storms back inside and slams the door shut as you stoop to collect the little, broken thing, cradling it in your palms. Maybe it wouldn’t be fixed again, but you’ve hardly the mind to let anything be left abandoned like this.

Though the anger builds, white bitter smoke billowing through your veins, it remains tucked away inside eventually communing with the animal, all but entirely snuffed out when your steps lead you to the front door of the house.

The window to the right is open, not broken. The curtains were pushed aside as though to allow a breeze to enter. A muddy footprint, vast and long scales the siding, but there’s no exiting one to join it.

You stare and listen, taking one quiet step towards the open window to strain your hearing. Nothing. Inside, it’s quiet, only the sound of the breeze rattling that note left on the table, the ticking and the familiar creaks and groans of the house settling.

So, you enter.

With the poker from the hearth in tow, the rooms are investigated one by one. Each and every one of them clear of any intruder. Even the attic, for all of it’s imagined ghosts sits empty, stale and silent. There’s no one here, nothing out of place or broken that hadn’t already been cast out from the world and delivered into your hands.

Strangely enough, it’s more peaceful like this; the leaves could be heard rustling outside, birds calling, even the chirps and strumming of crickets too late to flee the onset of chill seeping through this purgatory, filling the mundane void with sounds of life and peace.

You leave the window open.

The pocket watch is left on the desk, the kettle filled with water and placed upon the stove to heat, all before your eyes trail over to that little table beside the front door.

The only thing amiss is there, your intuition roars at you: “Look, look. Just look.”

The table clock from this morning sits there, the wood casing dusty and the hands perpetually stuck to sit at six o’clock, easy to enough to break, and easier still to fix. An overworked battery and a little oil would be its saving grace; if only things could be so simple for yourself, for the thousand or so others that surely must feel the same— clawed, fretful little rabbits.

Your eyes narrow momentarily, vaguely recalling that the damned thing had been covered when it was dragged inside. Something sable and thick, a scrap of a heavy dress shirt perhaps, verily stained. Odd that someone would have broken in merely to steal something so useless, but stranger tales have been told. For all you cared, the perpetrator could keep it.

You entertain the idea of the wild man in the trees, thick and sturdy as one. Perhaps he left the note, stole warmth from your home and found comfort in that useless old shirt after leaving that roughly scrawled note. Though the idea would horrify others, it only sets your ceaselessly racing pulse at ease.

Toying with the idea that someone so very much like you lurks the hills, found a home in your eyes and paid a visit, kind enough to wait until you were in town as to not scare you… and the kettle begins to whistle.

———

You had forgotten to close the window last night. Or maybe it was left as an invitation, a silent offer of your companionship for the unknown thing that occupies your already haunted mind these days. Something in your subconscious dared you to simply forget, see what happens, and you’re not entirely disappointed to find out that yes, something has happened.

There are three flowers laid out there in a row, smushed by the weight of a heavy palm: a daffodil left golden and proud despite the way her petals fray and wither, and two others wild and unnamed with blue and white colors leading to vibrant green stems. And roots. He hadn’t the time to pluck them proper, nor had a sense of gentleness to his touch in doing so.

It’s the first time you’ve laughed in months, a giggling that makes your chest ache from a sudden mirth through all of this wretchedness. Who knew it would only take three flowers and the appearance of someone so disconnected? You take them and place them in a vase in the same spot, careful to add just the right amount of water to keep them living for a time.

Someone brought you flowers— actually brought you a gift, not a job. You remember those eyes, too. His hands may not have been gentle, but that look was.

Though darkness still creeps internally, you’re resolute in what you must do when you prepare for the day. You’ve never really worn this dress— a soft, white thing with billowing sleeves and tight cuffs that brings a swell to your breasts and cinches your waist. One of the women about town had given it to you in lieu of payment for repairing her husband's watch, left a note prattling onward for three pages about how a woman should dress to find a man. Three!

You’ll find him, thank him for the flowers, bat your eyelashes just a little and retrieve your umbrella. That’s all. The rain would be back, more deliveries would have to be made, and if you could manage a friend from all of this well… surely things could work out for you, just this once.

Your steps are less hurried and more tentative this time around. You don’t barrel through the woods like a galloping mare, mindful of your dress as you lift the fabric at the hips to avoid thick, slickened mire. There isn’t much to do about the thorns nipping at your ankles, leaving little scratches like cat’s claws in their wake.

The thought that maybe this was a ridiculous idea only settles in your mind after an hour of searching. You don’t even have a name to call him by, not an idea on just where he may be or what his intentions truly were, all further punctuated by the fact that you’ve found yourself in the midst of a wild orchard, the yellowing grass nearly reaching your knees as you reluctantly allow your dress to flow free. Thick clusters of apples hang above your head, each nearly ripe, some even fallen to leave a fragrant sweet smell in the wake of their rot.

Thunder roars above, distant but loud, cruelly threatening the wake of a downpour that would so easily sully the delicate thing you wear. Your chest aches from exertion, from whichever horrid fear it's settled on today, and you’re nearly fully convinced of your own madness when something does finally catch your eye.

There’s a cabin, nestled between the trees, old and lacking glass panes for the windows. The roof is covered in moss, walls creeping with the old green of vines and nearly hidden away entirely by the tall grass that rises above its face.

You could wait out the storm in the dark there, rethink your steps until you find a way back home and the prospect of actually entering a building that wasn’t the very picture of your own agony stirs something within you.

You don’t bother to knock, only waltz right in and let the door shut softly behind you. It creaks as it goes, whining from the rust laden over its hinges. As expected, the cabin is mostly barren; a set of dust laden chairs sits on opposite ends of a table missing a leg, a large bookshelf housing only a torn copy of Paradise Lost and a journal, a few dirtied dishes are left on the floor, and in the corner…

There are a lot of things that make you feel small.

You couldn’t live up to your father’s name in town. The thought that you were not an equal to the other ladies with their fine jewelry and dresses, rings wrapped around their fingers, that was a sore spot despite the way you refused to admit to it. Even the hounds lurking about the butcher’s shop on lonely night deliveries, baying and growling when your feet carried you too close.

None of those things could even compare to how you felt now.

The rug he lies beneath is large on its own, but your flower-giving, grateful titan seems even more so. It’s as though walking into a bear’s den and expecting a mere squirrel. Even curled into himself in sleep, he seems impossibly huge.

You couldn’t see much of him that first night, but now… where the rags that make up his clothes reveal a series of long scars along his legs, the hairy arms that seem far too thick: all of him, all of him is massive.

Your rabbit heart does not claw or fight you now, it only flutters, placated by the sight of something so… was there really a word for it? The idea that someone so imposing could strike the match of attraction within you. Feelings were strange, each comes sharp and new like the deliberate twist of a knife through a body, soft like warm bread.

You smile as you wander to his side, recognizing the cloth he wears over his head immediately as the one stolen from your house. Your dress is smoothed at your rear as you lower yourself to sit on your knees at his side, quiet and slow.

“Hello,” you whisper, placing a hand on a shoulder that dwarfs it entirely, feeling the bulge of muscle beneath the ripped shirt, the ridge of keloid scars from deep cuts laid into his skin.

The titan’s eyelids flutter for a moment as he begins to stir, staring up at the ceiling, teetering on the edge between waking and dreaming. Then, those cold blue eyes lock onto you. A flash of disbelief crosses them, just for a moment before something flips and from the holes ripped into that makeshift hood you see an expression that seems almost agonized.

“Hello,” he rasps after a long moment, shifting onto his side to prop himself up and raise his head to level with your own.

His breathing is shallow, almost panicked and you finally think to bring your hands to your lap instead, avoid touching him and potentially startling the poor man further.

“I wanted to thank you… for the flowers. They’re beautiful.” You pause as you study what little of his expression you can make out through the mask, the way his eyes crinkle at the corners only giving a glimpse of a smile. All teeth, probably, an excited one that even the imagination of warms your heart. “I put them in a vase. I didn’t want them to die.”

“I should not have…” His voice is softer than you ever imagined that it could be, well-spoken as the words are pulled from his throat. You find yourself transfixed, almost, praying that he continues if only to hear the delicate strumming of his tone, the soft sigh of breath that leaves him afterward.

“Es tut mir leid.”

The apology is followed by a low sweep of his gaze, slowly crawling from the peek of your cleavage to your hips to rest where your hands lay clasped in your lap.

He hardly seems to know what to do with himself, what to say, and all at once the realization dawns on you that no, he isn’t merely paying his thanks and seeking conversation. Perhaps that was part of it then, but now… he seems almost entranced.

You recognize those looks, from men in passing when they leered, but from him… from this weary, haunted stranger. It only seems a silent sort of reverence; as though longing for something he’s been deprived of.

“No, it’s fine, it made me happy.”

“Happy?”

“Yes, it was sweet.”

He falls silent at that, conflicted if the pinch of his brow were anything to go by. Then, sudden, he takes your wrist and jerks your hand toward his face, thumb brushing over the small calluses over each pad of your fingers. There’s dirt beneath his fingernails, even more scaring along those massive hands and you shiver. It’s not fear it’s… something akin to it, opposite by the way it dances and writhes in warmth rather than the cold.

“You have the hands of a maker.”

Strange, sweet Goliath.

His words are spoken somberly, as if there is more to say that he holds back. A part of you warns that you’re not prepared for it anyhow, so you let him continue that motion, brushing over your palm with a featherlight touch until it begins to tickle.

Your giggle prompts him to raise his head, watery eyes threatening tears when he hears that sweet sound bubble up from within you. His hand curls over your own, trapping you in his grasp as though little else matters to him more than the need to touch you in some way.

“You have kind eyes.”

“I am not kind.”

You shake your head at that, flicking your thumb across the top of his burly hand, marveling at the smooth skin of his scars and the rough texture of the hair that dots his knuckles.

“You’re sweet to me, and that’s all that matters.”

It could have been a mistake, how easily you’ve taken to this bizarre titan. Any lady with proper regard for her standing and womanhood assuredly wouldn’t have said something like that to a beast that has the stature and the scent of something wild.

Still, the words leave your lips far too quickly to draw back; he responds with an urgency.

You find yourself pulled ever closer by the iron grip on your hand, tugged into the rug-turned-mattress by this man as he cages you in to meld against his chest. He’s everywhere, warm and burning against the chill of your skin with flesh touched by hellfire.

You only sigh pitifully when his arm wraps around your waist. When was the last time you had even felt an embrace? You couldn’t recall, and even if you had, it would have paled in comparison to one such as this. You breathe him in like a summer’s breeze, tasting a hint of the apple orchard beyond on your tongue when you open your mouth to speak once again.

“See..?”

The tension in his muscles seems to melt away; if your heart is like a hare then surely his must be more akin to a bull. It takes some time before he softens entirely against you, despite his initiation. His breath is almost a pant when his hand trails upward along your back, feeling every ridge and dip and curve, breath catching in wonder as you allow it.

“You are soft like…”

His head dips to press into your shoulder, breathing you in, humming his approval at the mingling scent of clock oil and tea leaves that lingers on your skin. Even from beneath the hood, you can feel the way his lips brush over you, his mouth parted in a voiceless plea.

“… like one of the flowers.”

It’s almost torture really, how someone could be so comforting, so endearing.

His hand trails further, drifting over the backside of your dress to curl against your thigh threatening something if you don’t conjure the sense to stop him. It stokes the fire within you, glowing ember in place of a brain, it seemed. You feel weak, lost in a foreign touch and sweet, clumsily spoken words.

If the townsfolk could see you now, herded up in this stranger’s arms, surely they wouldn’t dare to cast any disapproval your way. Not one of those meek little devils would have a word to say… not now or ever again.

“You’re like… a tree then,” you whisper as you finally will yourself to twist away from the grip, already mourning the loss of warmth as a cold wind filters through the openings in the cabin.

He doesn’t sulk as you pull away, only seems content to have been blessed with that much. That mist remains in his eyes before they shut again, willing himself to rise to sit up just as you do.

“Will you stay?”

You glance over the cabin again, with all of its dust and cobwebs. Your umbrella sits in the corner, propped upright with its handle leant against the wall, out of place amidst the dilapidation prevalent here.

This wasn’t a home at all, just a quiet, cold purgatory. Though the halls of your own may mock your solitude, this place seems to echo his very being: alone, broken, rotting and so, so very cold.

Your heart bleeds as you weigh your options, expression growing sullen and torn. He notices, tentatively takes your hand again in an almost practiced way of providing comfort. Had he ever even…

Your thoughts begin to drift again, and you force yourself to settle on a choice. It’s not your heart that should be damned, but that horrid seed of doubt constantly burdening, stealing from, and clawing at you.

“I should get home, before the rain.”

“Verstanden.”

“You can come too.”

There’s an audible hiss of breath through his teeth, that peculiar look of agony crosses his face again… and finally, he weeps.

———

König, you think to call him.

He teaches you German from time to time, in turn for you allowing him to watch as you work away at the clocks. It feels fitting in a way. Not because he harbors the self-importance of a noble figure, nor his stature; he’s simply become something impossibly important in the week long span you’ve spent together now.

You’ve decorated the guest room properly for him, and in turn he’s brought you firewood, foraged and hunted so that neither of you have had to bother with the town. The fire raged in the hearth as the cold continues to set in, and your walks to town have been enjoyable now. He accompanies you to the hill on some nights, draws you a bath when you come home, even cooks.

So… maybe a king was not entirely appropriate, but calling him a servant certainly wasn’t either. Even with the way he seems to melt and become docile at the slightest brush of your hand, the way you know with a certainty he would die for you if you spoke the word.

And still, you call him König: the king of your heart.

There are flowers at your windowsill each morning, still clinging to their roots. You bake the bread while he cooks stew with herbs gathered from the little garden just beyond the walls of the home, one he’s graciously told you he’s wanted to expand for you. Books you’ve overlooked for years have been read end to end by him, and he especially seems to like those with art of flowers drawn into their pages, always seeking you out to show you, explain their meanings, expressing the beauty that he sees in them and within you.

You don’t know where he’s come from, what his life was like before this, and with the same respect that he gives to you… you don’t ask.

“We’re starting a new story,” you had said the first morning over a breakfast of hastily made apple dumplings. To which he had agreed, with a somber hum, nodding his hooded head.

Though you do wonder about his secrets, his face. Seeing him now is all it really takes to make you smile.

He comes through the door, hauling in the massive grandfather clock that a carriage had left only this morning. The bob and the lyre both appeared broken at a glance, but your heart sinks when you read the name on the note left attached to it.

The same petulant little man that had stomped that poor watch to pieces right in front of you, no doubt he had broken this one too in some sort of tantrum. What was it now? Had the poor clock chimes a bit too loudly during the night? Was that deserving of a foot lodged right into its heart?

“König, do you mind just leaving it there?” You gesture toward the middle of the room, watching as the muscles beneath his shirt don’t even seem to ripple from exertion.

“Natürlich.”

As you set to work, pulling away parts, straightening out bends and replacing what’s broken, he kneels at your side watching with rapt attention. There’s no fixing the pendulum bob entirely, it’s far too bent and scraped, but you wouldn’t be replacing that with work of your own either. The bastard gets what he gets and that will do.

In truth, your work since having König here has only improved, and perhaps you’re showing off a bit, but the way he watches you tinker with the dusty old things as if mesmerized fills you with pride. You could fix anything, yes, with him at your side you wanted to.

The house doesn’t echo wasted time anymore, only that crowding feeling of something buzzing and chirping, budding up in the spaces where shadows should crawl: love. You wouldn’t trade it for the loneliness to return, not ever. A new sort of fear that stings just as much as it does caress.

So you work in silence, only breaking it to answer the sparse questions that he throws out.

When the clock is shoddily finished, you wipe the oil from your hands on a rag, and take König’s own large arm as it’s offered out to you to stand.

“I will carry it for you tonight,” he suggests, delicately brushing a bit of dust from your sleeve. His touch does linger, always lingers, trailing up to massage at your shoulder and cup at your neck. The swell of heat that arrives at your face then, the press of your thighs beneath your skirt… it’s always the same.

“I thought that you didn’t want to go into town?”

Your shoulder meets his chest as you press against him, doing very little to calm your body’s frustrations. The blood within you stirs like a violent wave feeling him this near— cleaned up and dressed in some patchwork conglomerate of your father’s old clothes. He smells like a union between the earth and sea, salt and alder leaf, a hint of thyme and lavender.

His eyes glitter when his gaze roves from your face to chest, hand skittering down to curl at the small of your back. To anyone else, you would look the picture of husband and wife perhaps.

“I would go anywhere with you.”

A fresh normal, like the rise of spring, those words and touches that suggest more: threatening while you plead in silence for him to just give you a push, unlace your dress and finally feel and see him properly.

“Then… yes, let’s get the cursed thing out of here tonight.”

His grip tightens around you just for a moment, fingers curling and flexing into the soft linen covering you, bunching it up just so at your back before he relents, draws away.

“You dislike this one?” König sounds almost hurt, perhaps he favored it, being tall and similar to him in some way. Another odd thing, hard to place, but he’s never seemed to like you talking down about your own work, a habit that needed breaking.

“No,” you begin to explain, curling your arms around his middle as you both stare at the thing, ticking quietly before you, “its owner is just a pain.”

“I can tell. You seem nervous, meine geliebte.”

“You haven’t taught me that one yet,” you point out, not playing coy, despite the look he gives you that suggests you know.

There’s always that ache when his eyes narrow and that playful glint reaches them. How someone could look as though they’ve suffered dozens of lifetimes of pain and still have that look, you did not know, but it excites you. A furious, needy excitement.

“Beloved,” is all that he says.

The stare relents as he heads back out into the garden, leaving you to sort yourself out.

———

“You’re sure that you can carry it the entire way?”

It’s not that you could help, really. The thing must have weighed as much as yourself, strung up over König’s back with a rope he had found lying someplace in the garden.

“Ja, it’s fine.” He’s not out of breath in the slightest either. You realize then that if you put on all your charms bending, arching and delicately maneuvering your hands to fix the clocks, the assuredly this was his way of doing the same. You try to reign yourself in from staring at the damp spot on his shirt, clinging to his broad expanse of chest, the way that his thighs seem to tense with each step forward.

You can’t— you merely trail behind him until you take the lead to bring him right to the other man’s doorstep. Your hands find the ropes that keep the clock saddled to König’s back, carefully untying them as he stoops down to let its wooden legs rest against the ground below. It scrapes, the consequence of being so heavy and forced to stand on those four tiny legs, and only then does it decide to make a cacophony of noise signaling the new hour, a trilling sort of bong that makes even your ears ring as it breaks up the silence of the night.

You don’t even need to knock, because the door flies open immediately. The man stands proud, unperturbed by your giant companion as he shoves past you to inspect his clock. There are no greetings, no pleasantries, and if you were just a bit more careless with your reputation, smacking him would have only brought you satisfaction.

“Not good, but it will do,” the little man huffs, knocking at the glass casing over the clock’s face with his knuckle. “Be a dear and have your friend bring it in for me.”

You’ve no doubt that König senses your annoyance as he cocks his head at you, but when you give a curt nod in response, he does what’s requested. The clock is set in a large den. It’s not as opulent and gilded as you had expected, just a simple home housing a very infuriating man. You watch from the doorway, swaying on your feet as König rights the clock and pushes it where he’s directed. Just a few more seconds and the two of you would be well on your way, and perhaps he would even teach you a new curse for a man like that.

He comes uncomfortably close to König’s side, a smug look plastered over his face that only seems to exaggerate just how greasy and mousy that you know him to be. Something is whispered that you can’t quite make out, a dare, a mocking taunt, something that pisses you off even without the knowledge.

The hood is pulled off by thin fingers, cast aside to the floor beyond the pair.

The man’s face goes pale before you even get a glimpse of König at all. He backs away, mouth gaping as König calmly moves to retrieve the cloth. You think you hear the word “monster” mumbled amidst a slew of incoherent babbling, but when your companion turns to face you, you feel no fear.

König’s face is like patchwork, scars connecting all together. They run like small streams up from his jaw and over his chin, splitting his lip at the corner of his mouth and dancing up to his eye. The nose is broken in places, several times over likely, crooked with a bump that only seems strangely cute. The unkempt hair lining his jaw should be trimmed, but… there’s no monster here. Only a man who has seen and felt pains that you could not bring yourself to imagine.

His head dips when he notices your wide-eyes stare, a sort of shame hidden away behind strands of long, black hair. He shuffles out of the house and shuts the door behind him, standing rigid as he expects the worst, for you to wail and sob and gather a group of townsfolk to herd him far away with fire and stones.

You only take his hand.

“Let’s go home.”

He doesn’t bother to hide himself away again during the walk back, his hand remains in your hold, trembling every now and then and gripping you tighter as he struggles with the thoughts no doubt raging in his skull like a storm. You offer your comfort as you lean toward him, head pressed against his arm even as you turn the knob and step inside.

You warm a bath for him then, a task that is no easy feat. König does not offer his help, resigned to some belief that this is only a temporary pity.

He allows you to peel away his clothes, graze your fingers over his body, over the scars all with a barely contained creature scraping out from inside: the untamed bull that you can not see. You press a kiss there, over his heart, feel it’s beating against your lips, pulling away only when his thumb strokes your cheek.

Each new sight of him is just as wonderful as they have always been. It’s not that you take pleasure in seeing the way he must have suffered; the now healed bullet wound over his abdomen speaks volumes of just what people are capable of when met with the sight of something that they do not understand.

The questions burn at the back of your skull, bitten back as your jaw tightens.

You help him wash with soap and a soft cloth, carefully removing any patches of dirt and dust that have lingered despite his near-daily bathing since living beneath your roof. The rough beard is trimmed in full, until all that’s left is a trail of dark stubble lingering along his jaw, broken up by scars like thin spider silk that make up the entirety of his body.

His hair is a mess, too, matted and clinging to his skull in wild clumps. You’re gentle with the brush as you free the tangles, clipping at what can not be saved with sharpened scissors, and massaging at his scalp as he murmurs his approval. It’s such a subdued, gentle cooing from his chest, a purr almost that shatters your heart and forces it back into place instantly.

Whatever he was or was not, you were certain this stray had never felt a touch like your own, if he had ever been touched by human hands at all.

König seems to settle greatly once you’ve tended to him and it does seem to finally dawn on him that you’re not repulsed, you’ve touched most of his damaged body, and have only brought him the gentleness that should have been commonplace by now. This isn’t some elaborate torture method— it’s only tender.

“Your turn, hm?”

That, however, brings you pause. Your hands rest on his shoulder, carefully trying to loosen a stubborn knot when you abruptly still. As if that were all he needed for encouragement, his hands cinch your waist, pulling you up and over the rim of the tub as you whine your protests in hushed little hisses. All for naught, as you find yourself submerged below the waist.

“I’m still dressed,” you sulk as the water dampens your dress, now seated between his parted thighs.

König only gives a laugh in response as his arms encase you in another embrace, his head resting against the dip between your shoulder and neck as his chest is brought to press against your back.

“And you’re still mine.”

His fingers trail further down to the wet fabric billowing amidst the soft, lapping waves of the water, pulling it up until it rests just above your hips. There’s no tact, only a clumsy sort of desperation rarely seen upon men, especially not of his stature.

You allow him to loosen the strands of lace at your back, bring your clothing up and over your head to leave it resting and dripping over the rim, pooling below onto the boards of the wooden floor. Your undergarments follow to join the flooding pile of soaked linen and lace.

You’re flustered certainly, grateful for the water surrounding that conceals the warmth that echoes your fondness for this titan between your legs.

You even considered that he would be more shy, not… as eager to begin to wash you, and not with the cloth but with his own hands, nimbly moving over every dip and curve coating you in the slick residue of soap, leaving suds in its wake. He starts at your shoulders, breath growing heavy the more you soften and relax against his chest.

It’s only a matter of time before his hands find and cup your breasts, and you swear that you can feel the grin that splits his face as you melt further against him. König gropes at and massages you there, eager fingers deliberately stroking at your hardened nipples until you quiver and sigh.

You find purchase moving your arms to your sides to grasp at his biceps, muscles flexing as he works his way down your trembling abdomen to your mound, kissing at your shoulder as you purr your encouragement.

The praises that leave your lips come tight and barely restrained as a finger trails against your slit, moving up to circle your clit before diving back down to prod at you.

Your head is gently tilted back by his free hand, your face peppered in clumsy, messy kisses as a digit sinks into you. It’s lazy work, trying to find a rhythm with your squirming. He only seems satisfied when it presses further, curling against the spot that makes you mewl sweetest, and finally, he kisses you full on.

It’s delivered as sloppily as his fingering, any trailing thought left in your skull dims, fuzzy with sheer bliss as his thumb begins to pet at your clit in tandem with each push and drag of his index. It doesn’t help that you feel his own growing need, hard and hot against your lower back, throbbing with each sound pulled from your mouth, his hips jerking on occasion to drag his shaft against your backside.

“König, we should get out,” you murmur through a flood of heat that curls and urges and presses at your lower half to seek some satisfaction, have him bed you proper. “We can go to—“

His mouth meets yours again, hungrier and more determined than before, the water rolling with each flick of his thumb. In a mere moment you feel that heat stoke to an inferno, blazing from your stomach to cause your feet to kick out, water sloshing over the side of the tub as you ride out each passing wave of paradise crying openly into his mouth.

When your trembling does subside, he kisses your cheek and pulls you up from the water, wrapping you up in his arms. His stare remains ever burning, pupils blown to a coal black, dreamy in the way he slinks back just to drink you in further. You can’t keep track of all of the places his eyes seem to dart, which touch to settle on and relish as he paws at you from chest to rear, as if mesmerized that you are no mere illusion.

You’re giving him everything; no longer the king of simply a beating organ tucked beneath your breast, but your body, bed, wherever he chooses to conquer next, of all the things that he’s been deprived of.

“We will go to bed, beloved,” he rasps, sounding more present than ever. The nightmares lurking behind his eyes have long past now: all focus is turned to you. You’re the only thing that’s ever loved him in return. “We will… become one.”

“Have you ever…” Your own voice fails you now, the evident want between you two incapable of making this any less… tedious. It was tedious, a flighty feathered thing that seems keen on slipping out of your grasp at any moment. If it were to be his first, surely it should be special, somehow, someway. If it were not… you dreaded that thought, a bitter envy sours on your tongue until it’s shaken off.

“No,” he states simply, shrugging.

Though a sense of relief seems to flood you at that, you dare not show it. You will take him to your bed, climb atop him and show him how these things work, a slow sort of love and the rest could wait.

It was foolish to believe that König would settle for such a thing, wild and only temporarily tamed by your sweetness: he is entirely different the moment you’re herded into the bedroom. The desperation of his touches has faded out entirely, replaced with what feels almost like a rage.

He wouldn’t take out humanities sins on you, no, but he would years of brutal neglect have left him starved and it just so happens that you’re an outlet for it, something to feed from by way of spilling his soul and his seed all into you, taken back with the kisses and praises that would surely come after this union.

You’re unceremoniously pushed onto the bed, lying at your side as he climbs in behind you. He whispers his requests into your hair, even as his hand wraps to pull your thigh up before you can bless him with a nod in response. He struggles for a moment, parting your labia with the obscene, ridiculous thing that hangs between his legs. It drags over you in repetition, oiled like the clock cogs before the head of his cock finally finds the opening his finger explored only minutes earlier.

You almost expect him to break you right then, force you to take what your body— no body- had surely been made for, but he only thrusts the tip inside and gives you some time to adjust, roll your hips down centimeter by agonizing centimeter.

“You are… Does it hurt you..?” His voice is a breathless pant, trying to hold himself together despite the daze he’s found himself in, buried not even three inches into your cunt.

“No… you can move,” you breathe out, eyelids fluttering as you tilt you head to look at him over your shoulder.

König clings to you as he sinks further, grasping at your waist to pull your further down, sharp breaths hissed between gritting teeth as he delights in the way your womanhood grips at his shaft.

Just as before, there’s no rhythm to him, he takes the sounds that leave you as a direction, huffing into your ear words that your mind could not hope to translate. There’s an indulgence to it, shared between you both as his hand curls tighter against your thigh, spread open and accepting of the brutal pace he takes to have just a taste of what it feels to be a normal man.

His words falter at a point, when you feel your body tightening around him, sucking him in, closer, nearer as your head lolls back. The inferno from before pales in comparison to the blaze that overtakes you now, his voice strained with bliss as you begin to moan for him. With each drag and soar of his cock spearing you open, you’re only brought further to a glimpse of Eden. If this were the fall of man, you find you couldn’t question Eve for relishing in it.

“… you gave me a name,” he rasps, “A home…”

All at once that glimmer of heaven crashes down around you, bathes you in the glow of something lofty and holy as he pulls you close and drives himself to the hilt within you. The throbbing and pulsing of his length pulls you over just as his seed spills within, drips thick and flooding as your own sex drools in tandem, sharing a perfect rapture both clandestine and sacred. He gives you another generous thrust, ensuring that he’s carved a space inside no other man could ever hope to fill.

You fret when you find him weeping, quiet tears rolling down his pale cheeks to spill over your shoulder, but the gentle smile on his face is pacifying as you twist around to face him. “And now you have my love.”

“I’ll cherish it,” he murmurs, voice broken and pitiful as you’re maneuvered upward to rest against the feather-stuffed pillows against the headboard.

You curl against him, head resting on his chest, an arm draped over his waist. He takes your hand into his own, appraising it like the first time you properly met. Hands of a maker. Your mind wanders to significance in that statement, the things that needn’t be told are finding ways to curtain you anyhow when he speaks again.

“Could you fix me?” He asks, tracing over the calluses on your fingertips, still bathing in the afterglow.

The question, though you felt it coming, still hurts to hear him speak it: breathing life into a thought that should have never existed to begin with.

“There’s nothing to fix.” Though you speak true, though you know he feels your sincerity, his eyes are heavy when he looks to you again. “Why would you ask me that?”

The story that he tells you then is one of horror. From his maker down to the things he’s done, seen, felt: hated from the moment he woke into this strange world, the horrible loneliness that pushed and bedded down inside of him like acceptance never would. The people that he’s throttled in some desire to finally have someone like him; men, women, it made no difference. All of it is bared with only one message eternally prevalent: he has only ever wanted to be loved.

In truth, he was a monster. Not because he was given the instinctual urge to be, but because it was all he knew. Gnashing teeth from demons hurling that word out with every stone they threw, every shot and stab at his heart.

You listen, despite the way it hurts, pull him a little closer when he ends his tale with your meeting, how he knew you were the only blessing he would ever receive in his lifetime— however long that may be.

You were good at fixing broken things, but König never needed to be fixed. Only found.

———

“Now you’re supposed to say it,” you hum, as his hands reach to the hem of the hood— his- covering your face. They rove beneath the fabric, curling against the skin of your cheeks, tracing small patterns there, some rotations like the clocks, others the childish hearts scribbled into books.

“I vow to take you as my wife.”

“You’re bad at this.” You giggle when he does finally push the cloth up past your nose, above your eyes and further until it’s pulled back like a veil.

“I will love you endlessly,” he continues, returning your noise of elation with a huffed laugh of his own. “I already do.”

“I love you, too.”

No one in town would ever properly marry you two, not if one look could make a weak man fall to his knees in horror, but here, beneath the roof of a home once echoing the same voice that haunts him… it was good enough. The moon seems to echo your vows with dancing rays, stars twinkling in approval as the calls of night birds carry through the open window.

There are no rings, no written formalities to be stored away with dust-ridden papers, preyed upon by mites. It’s far more sacred, genuine than the flippant affairs and arrangements that go on with those that would so readily cast the both of you aside. In truth— the thought of them rarely comes; doesn’t even rile up that intense fear inside of you any longer.

Everything only seems easier with the blooming garden outdoors, and the man who gazes upon you like he sees divinity itself behind your eyes, in the softness of your flesh.

When you kiss, it’s something from a fairytale, flowers strewn at your feet and the veil removed from your hair by a gentle hand.

Eden doesn’t seem so much like a memory lost to time, after all.

[thepromptswhisperer]

Flower Prompts

“Did you pick them out yourself?”

Stumble upon a dried flower in their partner’s book/private stuff. (One, that looks vaguely familiar. Is that the one they gave them for their first date?)

Wonder if bringing flowers to the date is too much. 

“I’ve never received any before.”

“What did you do?” “What?” “You only ever give me flowers when you have something to confess. So, shoot. I'm listening.”

Know the other is well versed in the language of flowers, and spend hours trying to pick out the right one for them. 

Put a flower in the other’s hair. 

“What’s not to like about flowers?”

Gift the other flowers they are allergic to.

Only realize this is a date and not just a normal hangout when the other gives them flowers. 

“You spoil me.”

“You need to buy a vase.” “Why? This does perfectly fine.” “For now, sure. But what if I wanted to give you flowers every single day from now on?”

“Let me get this straight: You broke into [name]’s garden to pick some of their award-winning flowers for me? How are you still alive?”

Only realize how meaningful the flowers gifted to them are when the other explains why they picked those specific ones.

“They love me, they love me not,...”

See a vase of flowers at the other’s place and wonder if someone else gave them to them. 

“Flowers make me sad.”

Stare at a vase of flowers, gifted to them by the other just hours/etc. before their argument/breakup. 

Receive a flower bracelet/crown made by the other. 

“Do you give all your dates flowers?”

Place a flower on a casket.

“Did I forget our anniversary (again)?”

Receive gifts from an anonymous admirer. First a vase, then a new flower every day. 

Walk into a room that has flower petals strewn all over the floor.

“They smell almost as good as you do.”

“Don’t read too much into it. It’s just a flower. It doesn’t mean anything.”

Date someone who, contrary to them, does not have even a single plant in their apartment/etc.

They imagined lying in a flower field with their partner/etc. to be more romantic than it truly is.

“For something half dead, flowers sure are expensive.”

Think the other wanted to express something specific to them with their flower choice. Turns out, they simply thought they looked nice. 

“What’s your favorite flower?” “Huh? Why?” “One of these days, somebody might want to surprise you with some.” / ”No reason,” only for them to receive some a few days later.

[thehauntedetheral]

That, “After all I am just a girl 🎀”, sent me! LOL! It’s such a fat fucking mood I have 24/7

So follow up request, how about a Hyper/Extreme Masculine Man x Hyper/Extreme Feminine Woman Reader

Give me someone who is wholesomely sexist that is so damn fine that the red flags start to look green

Hello! Thank you for your love. Glad that you liked my work. I hope you like my writing. This is my first time writing something like this so please be kind. I hope you love this. Enjoy!

Yandere Sexist X Reader

Requests are open!

• You and yan dated throughout the college and after graduation he proposed you. You were madly, irrevocably and passionately in love with him.

• Yan Husband who is a toxic sexist who is a excellent manipulator. He tells you after marriage how his parents were a traditional gender role household meaning husband being the bread winner and leader of house while wife being a good pretty house wife. He wants to try it. You were reluctant at first but after enough manipulation and sugar coating you agreed. After all this man is an excellent manipulator.

"Baby please just try it for me. If you don't feel good after doing this for a month we will stop it. You had been working so hard throughout the college. You can relax a bit by this and can also take a break and get the time to do all those hobbies and stuff you were interested in doing but couldn't due to college work. We have just got married why so eager for a job? Settle down have some rest. I have a very good paying job to provide for both baby. Please try this for me love?" He would say while holding your face delicately in his hand and looking at you with his gorgeous hazel eyes.

• You slowly started to delve into it. Baking, cooking meals, taking care of him and house and decorating, doing household chores, gardening vegetables, beautiful flowers and loving it.

• He was slowly brainwashing you into his little pretty house wife without you knowing.

"Baby you don't have to think about anything I will take care of everything. Hmm? You know I love you and will take care of you."

• You were a definition of hyper feminine now. Long forgotten your old ambitious about your career self in college.

• Pretty Ribbons in your long hairs, delicate cute dresses, High heels, make up on, hosting parties for his colleagues, shopping, baking, reading, trying new recipes, doing house chores while waiting for your husband to come home were now part of your daily routine.

• Yan and you you would go out for dinners and if somebody looked at you a little long he would break their bones. After all you were his wife and wouldn't allow a weird creep to stare at you.

• He was the provider and you were his pink pretty princess housewife whom he loves to dead.

• Will shower you with gifts like vacations, jewellery, dresses.

• Yan Husband who is dominant in your married life and in bed.

• Yan Husband who is a toxic manipulator sexist who will make you totally dependent on you to make sure you don't run away from him ever.

"You need me baby as much as I need you. I am your husband I know what is best for us."

"You contribute to the household by taking care of me so good which helps me to do my job properly and soon you will be the mother of our beautiful children, darling."

• Looking at his handsome face with beautiful eyes oozing masculine energy always made you forget everything.

• You know your husband is always right and will take care of you.

Requests are open!

For more yandere reading:

[futurewriter2000]

My astrology observations:

Every person with Aquarius placement in their big three pisses me off for poofing away when they're sad. LET ME TAKE CARE OF YOU!

Gemini placements talk a lot but nobody knows about what. They are also so funny

Capricorns stare into my soul... They also move SO slow

Leos need a compliment, either from people or themselves.

Sagittarius just don't give a fuck.

Leo women are always late.

Aries rather moves on than fights for you.

Gemini placements can't stand still. LIKE JUST STOP FOR 5 MINUTES! Goddamn, they can be walking from their room to the bathroom 15 times to do what they could have done in one trip.

Scorpios.... There's something about Scorpios that just wants me to make out with them. So hot... And sexy... Plus the eye contact they give...

Aquarius and Pisces are real toxic together. I had witnessed too much of that.

Every Pisces man I met is a coward and a real dick.

Leos could have one friend and still be the bussiest of the Zodiac signs

Scorpios and just being attracted to them

Fire moons usually "overexaggerate" and talk too much during sports games.

Every Virgo I know has stomach issues. They feel through their stomach. They are also one of the most ambitious zodiac signs I know.

Leos are actually quite sentimental. Yes, they want all expensive but bring them a flower and they will put it in their special box of all most important things. Their attitude may be eh but their heart is gold and soft af.

Libra Venus start to become the person they like and they always like somebody so they always change their personalities.

Sagittarius Sun or Risings (not all but most) are usually tall with a dirty blonde and green eyes complex... and nice hips... and ass...

Taurus are so pissed at you and then they will just love you forever and ever and ever and you are their baby.

Pisces? Are you here or did you float away into another galaxy again?

Libra Sun and Risings want to be presented as ✨perfect✨ in society.

I’m afraid of cancers because they are so nice and sweet and all the most wonderful things but I know they can be evil and mean too so I have trust issues with them.

Aquarius are so unbothered and bothered at the same time… like how do you function?

Aquarius Moons are my favourite because they are so fun and so playful and they THINK SO FCKING MUCH.

Virgos are the most stressed out of the zodiac signs because everything has to go their way and when it doesn't they die a bit inside.

Aries moon are explosive af. Like shhhh, use your quiet voice.

Sagittarious moons are so funny to me because they are actually so self-observed but it's the cute kind, you know. I just want to be with them all the time and give them an ego boost because they are so sweet.

Capricorns will never, ever, EVER tell you their next move. They keep their plans to themselves. They keep themselves to themselves. They are here and they are gone.

Gemini placements... cannot relie on them (I have a lot of Gemini placements and I agree. I am unreliable because I think I can manage everything but then I realise I can't and have to cancel 5 plans).

Scorpios are so sharp and hardworking. Nobody realises that but Scorpios will do things AS IT SHOULD BE DONE and they will run you over if they have to. Nothing comes between them and their success.

When leos are comfortable around you, they will never shut up.

Taurus are evil af. They're cute and cuddly on the outside but they have one of the meanest characters. You gotta love them though.

Pisces will not study for an exam but will go in depth to knowing one random thing.

Cancers CAN DRINK! THEY CAN DRINK LIKE NO OTHER! Like damn... how is your liver? They are also a social butterfly and busy all the time. I don't know who said they are emotional and senstitive- they can be such a bad ass.

Sagittarious people are one of the luckiest signs but one thing goes wrong in their life and they will cry for three months about it.

Capricorn women have that alpha female power. I don't care what you say, they will go from the bottom to the top with a snap of fingers and they will be the biggest boss in town.

Virgos are the only of the zodiac signs that will see the gratest potential in you or anything really and they will force you to thrive towards that but if you don't believe in it, they will stop trying.

Scoripios and Leos are the realest friends because they will tell you everything in your face and protect you behind you back. Unless, you did them wrong... then they will tell shit about your back. They're petty that way, so choose wisely.

Taurus live a simple life. They don't complicate their lives too much.

Pisces throw great parties. They are also good cuddlers.

(That's it for now. It has been in my drafts for about two years but like if you want more or not.)

[keenzinemugstudent]

Clark x Black goth reader! Smut! A not so secret quickie!

Warning ⚠️ ABSOLUTELY NO MINORS THIS IS A SMUT SO ADULTS ONLY PLS⚠️

Lana hears strange noises in the art room and goes to investigate.

"Where Clark?"

Chole asked looking around not seeing the farm boy Lana just shrugs her shoulders.

"I'm not sure I saw him earlier though he seemed really out of it."

"Well that's weird."

"Oh I forgot my bag you go on without me!"

As Lana was walking through the hall way she heard noises coming from in the art room hmm maybe it was the janitor? She goes to check it out what she didn't expect was to see you and Clark.

He was holding your hands softly you stood in front of him looking at ground face full of worry. Lana could see you looked troubled she was about to walk in and see if everything was okay until you spoke.

"Clark I don't think this is a good idea.."

"Oh come on Y/n you promised!"

"I know it's just- this is embarrassing!"

You try to move from his reach but he grabs your hand a pout on his face.

"I promise we won't get caught. You don't have to worry so much."

"Clark it's almost the end of the day can't you just ya'know wait than?"

"I can't! I've been waiting for this since third period if I wait anymore I'll go nuts!"

Lana had no idea what was going on what was Clark trying to get you to do? He sounded pretty desperate. She had noticed in class that he kept looking at the clock for lunch to start but just to see you? She heard you let out a surprised gasp Lana leaves from her thoughts only to see Clark pick you up to sit on the teachers desk your face was flustered you put your hands on his chest starring up at the handsome farm boy.

"What if someone catches us?!"

"Y/n please just focus all your attention on me okay?"

You let out a small shaky sigh as his hands slowly move down your hips to your thighs to your knees gently spreading your legs open so he could easily stand between them which caused Lana's face to become warm. What exactly was she seeing? Why was Clark touching you like that?!

He leans down to gently kiss your forehead than your cheek than to your lips making Lana cover her own in surprise, you close your eyes shyly kissing him back holding his arms, you wanted to be strong and not give in but when he kissed you everything else didn't matter anymore.

"Is it okay for us to keep going?"

You was hesitant but nod your head Clark gives you a smile, gently grabs your face to kiss while you start lift up his shirt that was always kept tucked you unbutton his shirt to show his well toned stomach making you bite your lip he was just so damn hot it was ridiculous! You rub his chest going down to his stomach to his pants zipper he lets out a low groan as you grazed his front pants touching his already hardened cock making you giggle.

"Wow you really weren't kidding huh?"

"What can I say you make me excited"

They both give a small laugh than go back to kissing all you could hear was lips and moans around the empty classroom. Lana was still hiding behind the door face red still not understanding what was going on the whenever she saw you two together it was always a friendly interaction, Clark would say "Hi" to you in the hallway and you'd shyly wave back at him before running off somewhere.

Lana that it was weird because you were the quiet goth girl and he was the shy but friendly farm boy you both weren't friends or so she thought but than she remembered when she saw Clark and you at his mom's flower shop once and you two were talking and laughing she had noticed you were holding red roses. Than the next couple days at school she and Chole always saw a red rose either on your locker or on your desk. Whenever somebody would try to question you about it you'd always just shrug your shoulders not knowing who it was, then you'd go the whole day with a smile on your face.

Did that mean that Clark had been the one to give you those roses???

"Ah C-clark!"

Lana looks and could see Clark's hand going under your skirt you try to stop him but could only give out a weak moan as his fingers entered you...Clark freaking Kent was fingering you in the art class.

"Clark baby please! Oh you know I'm sensitive down there!"

He just shh you by kissing you again muffling your cries of pleasure while still rubbing your clit in circles

"You said you'd give me anything if I passed that test I got a A+ all that studying really paid off huh?"

You try to speak but could only moan and whimper as his fingers started to speed up. You were so wet that you could hear it making you hide your face in his shoulder trying to quiet the embarrassing noises.

Lana could feel herself getting wet just from the sight. To say she was jealous was an understatement she couldn't believe that Clark was doing this in school of all places! and to you of all people you were always so quiet but nice enough Lana didn't think you two had THAT kind of relationship!

"Y/n I want you to cum... think you can do that for me sweetheart?"

He whispers in your ear kissing your cheek. You couldn't say anything but nod holding on to his arms moving your hips trying to make his fingers go deeper into your pussy.

"Y-yes! oh god yes yes! I'll cum just please Clark don't stop!"

You sounded so needy Clark moves his fingers faster and deeper making loud moans leave your mouth not even caring if anyone walk by and hear you (too late for that)

Lana should not still be here why was she even still watching this?! It was something private between you two so why the hell was she still here?! Just as you so close to your release suddenly Clark stopped his movements causing you to look up at him with teary eyes upset that he didn't let you cum.

"W-why'd you stop?"

He just moves hair from your forehead to kiss your upper brow removing his fingers making you whimper from the lose, Clark reaches in his back pocket and pulls out a a condom.

Lana went wide as she saw Clark start to pull down his pants revealing himself Lana's mouth was wide open in shock but you just let out low moan rubbing your legs together feeling yourself getting wetter at the sight as he put on the condom even though you've seen it multiple times he just looked so damn good!

Main while Lana nearly passed out when she saw how big Clark was jesus even Whitney wasn't that big! There was no way Y/n would be able to take him! Right?

Clark got closer to you his forehead touching yours once again hands going under your skirt to remove your red underwear he grabs your hips pulling you closer you wrap your arms around his neck kissing under his jaw leaving light hickeys and black lipstick stains on him biting his ear. You looked towards Lana's direction making her freeze on the spot, thinking she'd been caught but you give an annoyed sigh you were looking up at the clock on the wall.

"Clark baby I'm sorry but we're are out of time."

He looked at his watch and saw that you were right but he just shook his head.

"We still have more time."

He spread your legs rubbing himself against your wet heat, you both let out loud gasp as he slowly pushed himself inside you stretching you out, once he was fully inside he stood still all you could hear in the room was their heavy breathing.

"I'm going to start moving okay?"

You were so lost in pleasure all you could give him was just give a lazy nod, he starts to slowly moving his hips letting out a shaky breathe even though this wasn't the first time you two had sex, he was always careful with you seeing as he accidentally left hand marks on your legs once and Chole saw it thinking someone had hurt your since than he always tries to be careful with you but God it was so hard there was just something about you made him crazy!

You lay your back on the desk gently moving your hips enjoying the feeling of him inside you but it was so hot that you had to remove your shirt making Clark give a low growl at the sight of your breasts and your blood red bra the one thing Clark loved most about having sex (making love but he won't say it out loud yet)

Was seeing your chest they were just so perfect! that's when he realized he was wasting time and need to speed this up so he leaning his body nearly covering you and moved his hips faster making your eyes go wide at the usual change of pace.

"W-wait Clark no wait please! Not so fast please! I can't oh god!"

He just ignored your cries of mercy and just moved his hips even faster, skin hitting against skin both of you panting heavily you arch your back off the desk mouth wide open cries of pleasure leaving your mouth. Clark just hugs you closer he grabs a hold of your ass than slapping it harshly making you let out a surprised cry of pain and pleasure. With how fast he was going your chest bounced at each thrust making you feel like you were seeing stars.

It didn't make it any better when he put his mouth on your left nipple gently sucking and bitting it making a small scream leave your mouth.

"Your doing so good for me Y/n."

All you could do was give a him a whine and wrap your shaking legs around his hips in a desperate attempt to pull him closer and deeper in your poor weeping pussy.

Lana was still watching the two lovers go at it like animals in heat she got up slowly legs shaking gave a low quiet moan as she could feel underwear wet. She had to get out of there and hopefully try to forget the scene she just witnessed.

By the end of the day Lana saw you and Clark again but this time he was helping you walk too his trunk you were limping and your makeup was a mess and you still looked flustered Clark he looked fine??? I mean his clothes was a bit ruffled but he looked okay.

"Wow I wonder what happened to Y/n?"

Lana didn't say anything but blush red not being able to say anything to Chole. The only thing she could think was Y/n was one lucky girl.

I'm probably going to hell for writing this aren't I?

[nxuvillette]

LOST IN TIME — WRIOTHESLEY

synopsis: you and wriothesley’s relationship ended years ago. neither of you thought you’d ever see each other again, until one night you both meet after years of being apart.

❥ pairings : wriothesley x fem!reader

❥ note : sorry for the inactivity !! i was kind of going through a slump, but i’m hopefully gonna start returning to a regular schedule. i hope you guys enjoy this !! reblogs are appreciated <3.

content warnings : nsfw [17+], fem!reader, ageless + blank blogs dni, mentions of childhood trauma (wriothesley), high school relationships (they’re both adults when meeting again !), alcohol consumption, breakups, some angst, fluff, car sex, creampie, use of pet names (baby , good girl), ex!wriothesley, vanilla sex.

You were never the type to dwell on the past. Whatever happened back then happened, and there was no way for you to control it. Time kept moving and it wouldn’t pause for you whatsoever. It was something everyone was told to move on from. 

However, you couldn’t exactly move on from one thing in your past.

Your ex, Wriothesley.

You and Wriothesley met when you were both in high school. Neither of you were in great headspace at the time, so you two connected over the fact that you were dealing with lots of pain during that time period. He wasn’t exactly the most responsible student. He often showed up late, talked back to adults, and he gained many enemies from his impressive stature. He was intimidating. Even you felt a bit of fear whenever he walked into a classroom, but he turned out to be a really nice guy. He sat next to you in your algebra class and asked you for a pencil since he came to school without his backpack. You gave him one and then ended up chatting towards the end of the period about school and other random things.

A lot of your friends questioned why you of all people spoke to Wriothesley. He wasn’t exactly the kind of guy who would speak to girls like you. You had perfect attendance, good grades, and a pretty decent friend circle. He was the opposite of you.

Eventually, those platonic feelings turned into romantic ones the more you got to know him. Wriothesley confided in you about many things pertaining to his home life. He was in and out of foster care due to his parents passing early on in his childhood, and it led to him being moved around a lot. He wasn’t exactly good at making friends because a lot of them came from these perfect homes. None of them would understand that feeling or his story. Although you couldn’t understand it either, you tried your best to see things through his lense. There was a reason he acted the way he did. 

You two then began dating a few months later. It was a perfect relationship. He treated you better than any ex of yours would, and he made you feel safe around him. He was somebody you could rely on. Despite many people frowning upon it, you never listened to their opinions. Wriothesley was someone you thought was your soulmate. It was young love, but to you, it was everything you ever wanted.

However, you did have some problems in your relationship.

You and Wriothesley had many arguments during your time dating. Sometimes he didn’t care for himself and he would miss school to do god knows what. You wanted him to do better for himself, but it didn’t seem like he was taking you as seriously as you thought he would. It would always end with him apologizing and buying you flowers or taking you out for a date to make up for the harsh words thrown around. He didn’t like fighting with you. He knew you wanted the best for him. He just had a hard time committing to the things he had promised to you. 

He always thought you two would date for a while, but that was until your senior year. At that point, you two had been dating for almost two years. Things weren’t bad, if anything, it was a lot better than it was early on. Neither of you considered your relationship to be toxic by any means. 

Unfortunately, things did come to an end.

You knew that you and Wriothesley were on two completely different paths in life. You wanted to go off to college and begin a career, and he wasn’t sure what he wanted to do with his life. There wasn’t an issue with that, but you had a lot of doubt that the relationship would even work with the distance and your differences. Having to break up with him was one of the most difficult things you had to do. 

Wriothesley honestly didn’t understand why you wanted to leave him. You were absolutely everything to him, and he never was one to treat you poorly. However, he also knew that your feelings about it were valid. He didn’t know if he could handle a long distance relationship and you honestly deserve someone better than him. In a way, he knew he was dragging you down in life. He was the one blocking your way of becoming the absolute best, so he took the break up respectfully. He would always love you no matter what, and that’s what he told you. You didn’t think you would take it as hard as you did, but you knew it was for the better. 

As the years went on, you slowly forgot about your relationship with him. It wasn’t exactly the easiest thing to process while in college, but you often distracted yourself by going out with your roommate and other friends you made along the way. Soon enough, it was a thing of the past. 

It wasn’t until you came home to see your parents that all of the memories came flowing back to you.

You and your roommate had decided to move into an apartment close to your university, so you weren’t home as often as you normally would be. When you came by to visit, everything felt so nostalgic to you. You hadn’t been in your hometown for a little while and you weren’t sure where to even begin. 

You don’t know how you ended up at the bar just ten minutes away from your home. It wasn’t exactly packed for a Thursday evening, so you didn’t have to worry about weirdos at the bar hitting on you. You were sitting on your own, sipping on a random cocktail the bartender had made for you. Your mind wandered to many thoughts that only crossed when you were intoxicated. Your past, random embarrassing moments you wished you didn’t let happen, and your ex boyfriend from when you were in high school. 

You disliked that you thought about Wriothesley more than you should have. You two had broken up years ago. Why would you still have these thoughts about him? Maybe you could blame it on the fact that you hadn’t exactly had the best luck with romance while in college. There was no other man who was interested in you like Wriothesley was. Most of the men around you were only looking for something short term, or just a quick fuck that wouldn’t mean anything at the end of the day. It was honestly a shame, but you shouldn’t have had such high expectations. Maybe you were a fool. 

You didn’t pay much attention to the presence that had appeared next to you. You assumed it was some random person who needed a drink just like you did. 

“Yeah, whiskey and coke, please.”

Your heart stopped when you heard the smooth voice speak beside you. A part of you didn’t wanna believe there was a possibility he was here after just thinking about him, but could luck be on your side? It took a lot of courage, but you eventually turned your head to place your eyes on the man beside you. There he was. Your ex, Wriothesley was sitting right beside you. You weren’t sure if you should even speak up and talk to him. Neither of you had crossed paths in years and you didn’t know if he would even want to talk to you. 

It didn’t take long for him to notice your staring, and soon enough, Wriothesley’s eyes made contact with yours. You never forgot the color of his ice blue eyes. He looked much older than he did before, obviously, but he seemed more mature. His body also seemed a lot more bulky than it was back in high school. Despite that, his scars still remain etched into his skin as permanent reminders of his past. 

“(Y/N)..?” your name left his lips in a whisper, seemingly shocked by your presence. 

You felt your heart rate begin to speed up from seeing his face. You didn’t think he would stay, but he sat there in his seat like a deer in headlights. You weren’t sure how to even respond. It was awkward. “H-Hi.. Wriothesley..” you said, trying to ease the awkward tension in the air. It felt so uncomfortable, but you didn’t want to leave. 

Wriothesley blinked, trying to take in the realization that you were sitting right in front of him. He hadn’t seen you in years. He vaguely recalled going to your home the day you left for college. He felt like shit knowing you were gone and he couldn’t say what he wanted to. It had been so long. It was like you were a completely different person, but at the same time he recognized you. He thought you were still as beautiful as you were the day he first laid his eyes on you. “Hey.. how are you? It’s been a while..” he turned his body to face you, giving you the chance to see his physical changes.

You laughed through your nose. Relief washed over you when you saw his soft smile appearing on his face. You thought he would just walk away, considering you were the one who broke up with him. “I’m good! How about you?” you asked, sipping your drink to try and calm your nerves.

He honestly was sitting there in disbelief. He didn’t think he’d ever have the chance to speak to you again. “I’m doing alright, haha! How has college been for you?” he questioned, nodding his head.

The conversation between you felt so weird. It was like you two were strangers, but at the same time you knew so much about one another. There was a time in your life where Wriothesley played such a significant role through your teenage years. You didn’t wanna see it that way, but it was difficult knowing there was so much that you missed. Did he ever get away from foster care? He was now over eighteen, so it’s not like he could be cared for anymore by a random family. Did he pursue his dreams of becoming involved in law enforcement? There were so many questions you had yet to be answered. 

Wriothesley revealed so much to you. He spoke about how he was able to go and apply to be a security guard at one of the clubs downtown, and with that money he managed to move out and get his own place. He seemed to be doing so much better in life than he was when you first met. He had somewhat of a personality shift as well. There was more maturity in his words and he listened more than he would talk. He was happy you were doing good in life. He wanted nothing but the best for you ever since you two had broken things off.

The evening hours crept up on you two, and the bar had become a little busier than it normally was. The alcohol in your veins also made you loosen up around Wriothesley. He felt the same way, but he was a little more sober than you were. He had a better grip on himself. It was honestly really nice to catch up with you. He really missed you. He didn’t like admitting it to others, but he often yearned to see your face walking around town. There was so much he wanted to say, but he wasn’t sure how to put it into words without sounding weird or making things awkward. 

“Do you need a ride home..?” he downed the rest of his drink within his glass. The last thing he wanted was for you to go home being slightly intoxicated and on your own. 

You hesitated for a second. You didn’t want to give the wrong idea to Wriothesley, but there was the part of you that would feel a lot safer if he was around you. “S-Sure!” you replied, picking up your things off of the table in front of you.

Wriothesley stood up, leaving cash for both of your drinks which you didn’t expect. Standing beside him made you feel somewhat embarrassed. It was like he grew overnight with how broad his body had become over the years. You never thought he would be the type to work out. He talked about it a little while back, but the way he looked now was insane to you. 

The two of you left the bar and entered outside. The air nipped at your skin from the slight chill that was in the atmosphere. Wriothesley walked over to his car that was parked in the lot. It was a really nice one, too. You pulled open the passenger side door and climbed in, getting hit with the strong aroma of his cologne that lingered around his vehicle. Once he climbed in, he glanced at you briefly. It almost seemed like he wanted to say something to you, but he decided not to at the last minute.

The car ride back was quiet. Neither of you spoke, and you honestly thought that’s where it would end. 

But, it didn’t.

Once he arrived outside of your house, there was something brewing between you two that was bound to burst at any moment. You didn’t know if maybe it was his cologne or how the alcohol made you bolder, but clearly there was something going on and both of you seemed a little hesitant to make a move.

However, that didn’t last long, because Wriothesley was the one who planted a kiss on your lips. 

It felt so familiar to you. Every little memory from your relationship played in your mind, making you recall things you thought you had forgotten. You missed it all. You missed his touch, his kisses, his hair that your nails used to dig into when you would make out, the way he would nibble at your neck to turn you on. It didn’t take long for you to end up on his lap with his hands all over your body. His kisses were rough, but passionate at the same time. It brought you back to the many times you two would make out in your bedroom while your parents were out of the house. God, you missed those days. Everything was so much more simple back then. 

Wriothesley’s hands lifted up your skirt, squeezing the plush of your ass. He remembered every little part of your body. He knew you so well. It didn’t matter how long you two had been apart. “Fuck.. I’ve missed you so much..” he whispered against your lips. “You don’t know how badly I wanted to go and find you..”

A whimper came from your lips when you felt his hardened cock brush against your clothed pussy. There was a part of you that wondered if you should actually be doing this. You two were ex’s. You were meant to be apart, but there was just so much about Wriothesley that you craved. He was practically your first everything back then, and those things are hard to just forget. “Missed you more, Wrio..” you panted, looking into his eyes. “Please.. I need you.”

He was a bit taken back when you guided his hand to your soaked underwear. His dick practically twitched when he made contact with your arousal. He remembered how easy it was to get you riled up. It seemed like that didn’t change at all. 

He wasted no time and pushed your panties aside to begin rubbing your clit. Your hand flew to hold onto his muscular shoulders. It felt so good. His fingers were all too familiar to you, and you loved it more than anything else. Wriothesley then pulled you in for a sloppy kiss. He swallowed every one of your pretty moans that kept leaving your throat. He just couldn’t get enough of you. 

Wriothesley’s hand left your clit several seconds later. His fingers fumbled with the buckle of his belt. You could tell he was rushing. “I need you now.” he looked at you then down at his pants where he began to pull them off.

You watched as his cock sprang out of his boxers. The tip was leaking precum. You somewhat forgot how big he was. The girth was quite large and his size was one that you thought you wouldn’t be able to take the first time. 

He placed his forehead against yours while his tip glossed over your wet cunt. You moaned in pleasure when he made contact with your sensitive bud. “Are you sure you wanna do this..?” he was breathing heavily, showing just how desperate he was for you. “We don’t have to.. but I just need to know now.”

You nodded almost immediately. “Y-Yes! Please, Wriothesley, I can’t wait anymore..” you begged, grinding your hips against him.

Wriothesley didn’t hesitate before pushing his cock into you. Both of you let out loud noises at the sensation of being in each other’s embrace. It had been so fucking long since you felt Wriothesley inside of you. He was stretching you out completely. There was this burning feeling, but you didn’t mind it all. It quickly faded to pleasure the moment he started moving his hips into you. His hands went to your waist where he started guiding you. There was nobody else like you. He loved you. It didn’t matter how far you went, Wriothesley always had that love for you. He knew it sounded dumb to be still thinking about his teenage love, but there was so much about you he just couldn’t get over.

It didn’t take long for him to find your g-spot. He could see in your expression how good you felt when he kissed it with his tip. You could hardly believe this was happening. You never thought you would be able to have sex with him again, but you had zero regrets in your mind about it. 

Your fingers laced into his onyx colored hair. You were so lost in bliss. He was better than any lame college hookup you had before. Part of you questioned why you even decided to leave him at the time. Sure, you two were on different wavelengths in life, but he was still a great guy regardless. He treated you like a princess. He never made you feel insecure or unwanted. He was perfect. “W-Wrio..! Yes, yes! Feels so good!” you cried, digging your nails into his scalp.

His grip on you tightened as you kept moaning for him. It was like he was reliving a dream he had. You were so beautiful. He didn’t wanna keep missing you anymore. “Yeah, you like it, baby? I missed you so bad.. I never stopped waiting for you, (Y/N). ‘M always gonna love you..” he captured your lips in another kiss that left you breathless. 

Your cheeks turned hot when he said those words to you. You thought after all of this time Wriothesley would hate you for breaking up with him. There was doubt in your mind that he would even wanna see you again, but hearing that he still loved you made you feel relieved. You still loved him too. “Missed you more.. Wriothesley! I love y-you!” you made eye contact with him. 

He was surprised to hear that you felt the same towards him. He assumed for so long you had moved on and found somebody else while you were in university. Somebody that was better than him in many aspects. Nonetheless, he didn’t care to question you. You of all people would never lie to Wriothesley, so he trusted your words more than anything else. 

Without warning, Wriothesley’s pace picked up. His balls began to smack against your puffy clit. Your vision grew hazy from the amount of pleasure that was rushing through your body. The pit in your belly was growing deeper, implying your orgasm was on the brink of reaching you. Wriothesley could sense it, too. Your pussy was squeezing his cock so hard that he thought it would be difficult for him to even think about pulling out of you. There was so much you two had to make up for. 

“Wriothesley.. I’m gonna cum!” your hands gripped his shoulders. 

His larger hand went around your throat. You could hear the way he was grunting. It sounded so erotic. “C’mon, baby, cum all over my dick..” he said, his voice sounding deep. “Be a good girl..”

Your cunt then clamped around his cock. A deep groan rumbled in his throat as he felt his own high reach him. His cum filled your womb, making you shiver from the warmth that was spreading from your belly. You could hardly keep yourself upwards from how tired your body was. You felt yourself slumping against him. 

His arm went to wrap around your waist, placing his chin atop of the crown of your head. He honestly missed nights like these, and he wasn’t going to let it slip away ever again.

© NXUVILLETTE ┆ all rights reserved, do not repost, translate, or claim as your own.

[honoura]

Shaaloani: The Land of Enchantment Part Two

Hello again! First of all thank you so much for your responses to these posts -- I've really enjoyed reading your reblogs. I'm glad folks are enjoying this!

As I mentioned in the first post -- here is the second half! It's covers the plants and animals I thought worth special distinction. By that I mean animals that communicate how much research was done regarding this zone. So no rroneek, no uxtena. It's pretty clear they are both meant to be buffalo and rattlesnakes.

And if you're somebody who hadn't caught that, um... surprise! That's what they're based on.

If you're somehow getting this post without reading or seeing Part One first, here is a link to Part One. I'd recommend giving it a read first.

With that taken care of, let's pick up where we left off before!

Shaaloani Flora

Aside from the cacti, there are a lot of plants I recognize as native to the regions discussed in Part One! First is this scrubby, short and wide tree. It took a few screenshots and a lot of scrutiny. I was torn for a bit thinking it was a creosote bush, but upon zooming in close I'm of the mind it's a redberry juniper tree instead!

The leaves are long and thing, and the shape gives to mind of juniper needles more. Juniper 'leaves' kind of scale over each other and between texture resolution and my horrible eye sight I can't tell if this does the same. Still! There's a photo below my two screenshots for further emphasis:

These are also the trees turned red near the ceruleum fields -- junipers tend to do that when they are dying. They are also incredibly hardy so typically when you've managed to kill one it's likely not good.

I will say when I was out here I noticed the botanist gathering log has mesquite beans on it -- and you harvest them from these trees! Which is too silly for me; so here's a link to the the wiki about honey mesquite, and a photo of the beans on a tree.

It's probably a reach to try and ID this grass in the Yawtanane Grasslands, but given that it caught my eye I felt inclined to make a pitch. For context child me thought a fun and engaging after school club project was to learn how to identify grass and other plants native to Texas. So when I looked at it I wanted to take a guess based on other regional clues:

To me I think it could be cane bluestem, a grass that's drought tolerant and popular for grazing animals. And its seeds are dispersed from these little fluffy heads like this.

I will say as a caveat that a lot of grass in this area can be dispersed by wind. So it might not be cane bluestem -- hell it's a stretch to even try this. But I like to think they also considered the grass.

The bush above I also hmmed and hrmmed about for a bit before positing if it was meant to be black persimmon. It's commonly called Texas persimmon or Mexican persimmon -- and it's found in Coahuila, Tamaulipas and Neuvo León. They generally just look like big shrubs instead of trees.

I mentioned this in part one, but I'll go ahead and reiterate here a few things:

One is I think Lake Taori's about the only place that reads as specifically Texas

Two is it's not a bayou. That's an East Texas ecosystem and way too wet for Shaaloani

Three is there are cypress trees west of San Antonio growing along the Frio river, and doing quite well! Garner State Park has quite a few of them

I stand by this because these trees are show to be reproducing by making 'knees' -- offshoots from their root system. Think of it like Pando.

I also feel cypress is correct; the trunks are wider at the base than higher up, and the leaves are the right shape. I also appreciate there's Spanish moss hanging from them, which is also pretty common.

The last plant I want to cover is this flowering bush -- I'm going to admit this one was a struggle because I don't know of a lot of bushes with large white flowers like this. I've seen flowers of this shape, but most tend to be ground cover plants that grow very low to the soil.

What I think it might be, which would feel appropriate, is a take on the datura. They can get a bit higher off the ground than most wildflowers. And they were used by several native tribes for cultural practices.

The flowers are bigger in real life than depicted here -- so this is a reach! If someone has a better suggestion I'm open to it.

Shaaloani Fauna

When Fate farming out here, I've seen several players comment like 'huh, there sure are a lot of dinosaurs on this map'. And you're right! Because a lot of this region is home to some incredibly rich fossil formations.

Big Bend National Park contains part of the Javelina Formation -- home to large creatures such as the Quetzalcoatlus, a pterosaur that boasted a 39 foot wingspan. You can read about fossils found in Big Bend here. The Javelina Formation has its own wiki article that details some of the specimens found within it, including the Bravoceratops and the Torosaurus. The Ojo Alamo Formation in New Mexico is home to the Ojoceratops. Just south of these is the Aguja Formation in the Mexican states of Coahuila and Chihuahua. These formations are home to fossils of all three types of scalekin above -- as well as alligators, who are also on this map!

Other Formations in the Southwest home to great fossil finds are:

Kayenta Formation (Colorado & Utah)

Tepetate Formation (Mexico)

Black Peaks Formation (Texas)

There's even a fun sightseeing lore blurb which acknowledges this!

I think this is a fun addition to the zone that strengthens the real world inspiration sources and have fun with world building -- a lot of the formations near the Permian Basin were along the shore or under the waves of the Permian Sea!

And that's all I have! Thank you all for indulging me, and by all means take any and all of this to do with what you will in roleplay. Have fun with it!

[everythingseasoning]

How the AOT men love you (SFW & slight NSFW).. PT 1

MINORS: Please DNI. Further reading means you consent to reading everything here, though it's pretty vanilla tbh.

EREN - A bit rough around the edges regarding emotional intimacy. Don't get me wrong, he definitely will straight up tell you "I love you so much, y/n," -- he's not afraid of saying what he feels. However, because he isn't as reflective and insightful and calm as Armin is (Eren's a little more simple-minded), he isn't a guy who does fluffy stuff all the time. He's more about action and adventure -- always pulling you into the next great thing.

*NEEDS* you to be safe, and happy. He will only feel satisfied if you're doing okay. Man cares about you, more than anything else.

Oh .. oh, Eren is definitely very blunt, and stubborn. He sees things in his own way, and it's hard to convince him to back down on anything he's got his mind set to. However, the flip side of this, is that he is fiercely caring, and righteous. Will protect you at all costs, even for little things: Some as*hole at the grocery store cut you off in line and you almost fell to the ground? Eren has a hand on your back and waist, steadying you, before he storms up to the man with the DARKEST look of determined hatred. This man has ZERO chill. (and we love him for it).

You are the most important thing in the world to him. He loves you so intensely and passionately that you won't have a chance to ever doubt it.

Fluff 1) You and Eren like to go on walks/runs together. Sometimes you two have races. Eren always wins (the little b*tch--) or ends up slinging you across his shoulder while running, the biggest smile on both of your faces as you two enjoy the rush of being with each other, and life. Life with Eren is just so right, exciting, and full of good times.

Fluff 2) Just how many beautiful waterfalls have you seen with Eren? You've even hiked a purple-flower covered mountain with him! And you've both tried many wild fruits, from the strange oblong shaped ones to pretty yellow star shaped ones-- Usually you were the one to notice the fruit while Eren glanced giddily all around the forest canopy and ground. It was tradition that whenever you two discovered another fruit plant/tree, Eren opens up the Wild Fruits and Plants You Can Eat book, gifted to you by Armin ("So that Eren doesn't accidentally eat something poisonous.") Sometimes Eren is not as bouncy with energy when you two explore the world, and instead he will hold your hand as you two stroll casually, cuddling up on each other's warmth.

NSFW 1) Eren isn't afraid to just.. straight up ask you.. when he wants it. He will look you up and down, eyes full of hunger. "I want you. How 'bout you?" Whewwww. 😮‍💨

LEVI - ohh boy i have so much to say about this little dude...

Would go absolutely crazy and turn into a battle demon, if he saw the love of his life in danger. ...

If Levi somehow found the right somebody, and actually spent enough time with them to be in a relationship, he would NEED his partner to be safe. He will not risk losing you-- he won't. Not after Isabel and Farlan..not again. So if you're ever in danger, you will see an overpowered beast emerge from that man's body and soul.

Levi isn't the best at emotional intimacy, is very stiff when it comes to words of affirmation. He hadn't ever really thought about love. He never even thought he'd have the option to be safe physically, let alone be safe emotionally. --But when he does meet that person, they light up his life in ways that just stun him. They feel like a summer's glow. He will look 10 years younger with you by his side, will feel unprecedented relief whenever he goes back to you. Will scare all the cadets because he will have this stupid smile on his face whenever he sees you.

--But Levi is not used to being loved deeply. He wouldn't know what to DO with your love, and he'd definitely have trouble opening up and being vulnerable. Nonetheless, I do think he'd try; he has initiative to do well to you, and to give you everything he can give to you (starts off with him being your literal guardian demon, progresses into him becoming soft to you). It'd take time and effort for him to learn how to love you properly.

Fluff 1) In the beginning stages of your relationship, Levi would enjoy cleaning with you. He would find himself giving you commands to do more chores (with him).. because he -- wants to -- be with you -- so often??? (won't ever never admit this).

NSFW 1) Levi is a v*rgin. Yes. Yes he (most likely) is. He never met the right person before you, so he never had a chance/time to indulge in s*x. The first time you and Levi have s*x, Levi will have his mouth CLAMPED shut-- trying not to make a noise, trying to control his expressions of pleasure. You'll have to teach him/encourage him to just let go lol.

NSFW 2) Levi wanted to have s*x with you for so damn long cause he's soooo attracted to you, but he will not initiate it LOLLLL. He just doesn't know HOW to ask for that. You had to feel up on him and really let him know you wanted it (breathy whispers and requests), before he FINALLY took the reigns and pinned you against the wall, kissing you hard before taking you to the bedroom~~!!

Also, he's a fast learner. (Imagine with that what you will 🥵).

Fluff 3) & After you two finish, he will clean you up immediately. But after that he won't let you go. Will hold you in a hug for an eternity. Is addicted to your warmth and the love/care you two give to each other.

ARMIN - OH MY GOD NO BECAUSE - i'm so in love with this man - oKAYYY: Armin is a very thoughtful, perceptive, and practical lover. You would feel *so safe* around him, at ease, and like you can be your full self. He's very accepting.

Armin is also going to *look out for you.* He is insanely analytically accurate. He has a clear, reassuring, and gentle energy about him. You know that with Armin, you'll be protected from any new obstacle or harm's way.

You and Armin would see the world for fun. Armin is somebody who feels fascinated with exploring the world, and with learning. He'd probably want a partner who is brave. He'd probably want somebody whose actions or way of doing life, amaze him. He would be so f*cking blushy around you, stuttering and all, whenever you smile so brightly at him -- you're like the sun to him.

Armin *would die for you.* He practically died already, for Eren & the mission. Armin wouldn't hesitate to give himself up, because that's how deep and true his love is for you. (And you genuinely get mad at him for this... but neither of you will budge-- you'd both die for each other).

Fluff 1) You and Armin like to read together :'). Armin will have red blush dusted across his cheeks, and his eyes will be shining as he talks excitedly, imagining all the things the book talks about. You adore it.

Fluff 2) You tell Armin you had a rough day, and he will set up a bath for you. While you bathe in the dark with candles, Armin will be in the kitchen with stew or soup simmering on the stove, before he quietly leaves the house: He will personally scour the bookstore in order to find a book that he thinks will make you smile-- or a book you two will both enjoy reading together/discussing together. Literally this man is like light okay. When you come out from the shower he will be there with a fresh, steaming bowl of stew and a dessert he picked up from the store. You two will eat together and then read a book, cozily cuddling on the couch.. before things get s*xy.

NSFW 1) This man is a *PLEASURER* -- Everything will be gentle, but imbued with such strong love for YOU. Will worship your body. Armin will feel like the luckiest man alive. He sees all your goodness, admires you, and is huge on praising you. Also he moans a lot, even if it's just a soft one that escapes him. Not sorry.

NSFW 2) For my switches/d0ms: You care deeply for Armin, and you also want to see his face when he's a writhing mess-- Sometimes you'll tie him up, and he will... oh he will be so helpless and flustered. You will be giving him all the sensation and he will *love it so much.*

REINER - Somebody come get yo man TT!! Reiner is a f*cking sweet, really good guy. Would protect you and your children (if you have them)-- with EVERYTHING he has -- from difficult, unfair situations (like what he was put through). But, Reiner also probably would want somebody who is strong, because strength means you can protect yourself, and change the world -- Strength is a necessary trait for survival, and he is attracted towards people who are able to stay efficient and alive.

Reiner wants a morally beautiful/morally pure hearted partner. Definitely wants a good person (I mean... Him and Historia in Season, what was is, 2? --speaks for itself). AND I MEANNN Reiner has such a soft heart-- he literally cracked psychologically because he couldn't handle the trauma of being a double agent in a cruel world-- so his pure heart seeks out another pure heart <3

Reiner would ADORE relaxation time with you! He wants the soft fluff, and the soulful moments, like laying together under the stars-- being safe, peaceful, *free.* Reiner has had the burden of war and the Armored Titan like a boulder on his shoulders for ... as long as he can remember. When you're both cozied up together, hands interlaced under the big night sky, Reiner's heart will have bursted and melted all throughout his body. He hasn't ever felt freedom before-- until you. (don't mind me f*cking sobbing right now. he deserves the world!!)

Fluff 1) You and Reiner sometimes do typical, fluffy couple stuff, like go to parks and have picnics, or going to the aquarium, or baking together. Reiner loves the domestic life with you, and you will always catch him gazing dreamily at you, as if he's not sure you're really his. Are you actually right there in front of him? How did he get this lucky? ..Man short circuits a lot around you.

Will definitely be so caught up in his smittenness for you that when you drop the bread dough on the ground and start getting upset/sad, he will just be staring at you like o// //o, not even realizing what happened.

NSFW: I honestly haven't thought about this but I will update this post when I do have some accurate guess on what Reiner in the bedroom is like-- (you can comment if you wanna be tagged for when I do finish this post/ make part two)

𐡘 \

Don't forget to leave a like, or to comment/follow if you want!! Comment to be tagged in part 2! (Jean, Eld, Marco, Bertholt, Connie, Porco, Zeke, etc etc) Feel free to comment! I'd LOVE to hear y'all's thoughts on this post <3! Hope ur all okay.

[midnightwriter21]

jjk headcannons: gojo & nanami as boyfriends

characters: reader x satoru gojo, reader x kento nanami

warnings: language, mentions of death in gojo's (assassination attempts, gojo unaliving someone)

AN: yuji, megumi, and yuta version HERE

SATORU GOJO

lucky you!!! you go a boyfriend and a 6ft tall superhuman man child wrapped up into one person!!

now

everybody always hc's gojo as a guy thats wayyyyy over the top with PDA

BUT THEY ARE WRONG.

i mean cmon think abt it... since the day he was born, gojo has been the target of assassinations, kidnappings, etc.

and in his eyes being affectionate with you in public where literally anyone can see you…

is basically putting a giant target on your back.

ofc the people closest to him know that you’re together and he’s not afraid to be affectionate in front of them

like his students, principal yaga, nanami, shoko, etc.

in fact if its just these people around y'all you can bet that he's most likely making them sick from how he clings to you

but it’s rare that you and gojo can have a day out together in public like a regular couple

he’s just being overprotective that’s all

speaking of him being overprotective

i dare somebody to threaten you or make you upset lmfao

gojo won't stand for it

the person that makes that mistake mysteriously disappears

and at the end of the day gojo's coming home to you with bloodstains on his shirt

don't question it cause he's not gonna tell you anyways

we all know gojo is a clown fr

but around you? lol multiply his usual goofy behavior by 100

he loves hearing you laugh

even if its at him

introduces you to his students as soon as y'all are officially dating

his students are some of the most important people in his life

and now you are too

his students adore you of course

but they also question how you can put up with gojo's annoying ass all the time (especially megumi lol)

idk i just love bf gojo

KENTO NANAMI

god he's so fine

did somebody say best bf on the planet? cause that's what nanami is

nanami isn't gonna be over the top w the PDA

but he will show you affection in public in small ways

a hand on the small of your back to softly guide you when your walking together

holding you by your waist

holding your hand

and if you're seeing him off on a mission?

he's giving you a chaste kiss on the cheek with a promise of "ill be home before dinner."

and when he does get home he hits you with the "honey, im home!"

FUCK i want him so bad

now nanami is protective too

not a day goes by that he's not scolding you for leaving your front door unlocked, not locking your car, etc.

he just doesn't want something to happen to you when he's not around to protect you

again, nanami doesn't flaunt your relationship around. but everybody knows y'all are together

except one person lmfao

guess who it is

correct!! it's gojo LOLLLLL

he's not hiding your relationship from gojo or anything

nanami just knows when gojo finds out y'all are together that he's gonna end up with a headache

doesn't wanna deal with gojo's teasing

nanami takes you out on dates as often as his job allows

and he's the perfect gentleman ofc

opening doors for you

picking up the bill

bringing you flowers

nanami. knows. the sidewalk. rule.

i love him