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— taste of the divine : getō suguru x f!reader
content warnings! DARK CONTENT, forced marriage, kidnapping, mind break, heavy manipulation, dubcon, breeding/pregnancy talk, misogynistic topics, torture (isolation & darkness), conditioning, pet names (love, little dove, good girl), depression, stockholm syndrome
summary: Set out on the honourable task of finding the right wife for their leader, Getō's followers have abducted a special sorceress to bear him children that will carry on his will and legacy. Unfortunately, unlike your rather promising lineage, your temper and beliefs are anything but befitting for his wife. But not to worry, there are many ways to reshape a person. You will learn. Of that, Getō is sure.
❝ la sensualité de ton regard, la fragilité de ton corps. je brise ta pureté. deux âmes s'emmelent pour l'éternité. ❞
wordcount: 3.5k | my kinktober masterlist
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Never have you felt as objectified as you do in this very moment: the lustful, piercing stares of Geto’s countless followers bore through your clothing as you are thrown before him—a man you know all too well from hushed whispers and dark stares within the Jujutsu Society. He is the enemy, a lost man.
The white robe they forced upon you, a mockery of a bridal attire, does you no favours. They made sure to leave nothing to Geto’s imagination: he should easily see how thoroughly they searched for a perfect fit when they took you.
And yet, somehow, he doesn’t even acknowledge your presence—not once does he seem to look at you, unlike everyone else in the room.
That is the first blow to your pride.
Then, there’s the way they speak about you as if you are not even there. Coming from a prestigious, ancient sorcerer family, your bloodline offers Geto everything he could possibly desire, all he could ever need from his perfect breeding vessel to bring forth some sort of prince to revolutionise the world. Indeed, they say, you are perfect.
“That monster will not lay a hand on me!” Your fighting spirit is adorable. But nothing could have prepared you for the sudden, heavy impact landing on your cheek. Geto can’t hide his chuckle at your shocked reaction. Did you truly expect to insult him in a room full of his most loyal men? They would never hesitate to put you in your place before continuing their praises of their great Geto-sama.
Strike number two followed so quickly, it made your mask crumble. The frustration becomes a thrilling decor on your face as you continue to hold your bruised cheek. There is so much hatred in your eyes—Geto looks forward to replacing it with fear. You will learn your new place, he is sure of that. You will love to obey him, to bear him children that will carry out his will and create a society of the promised.
Yet, Geto appears to hold not the slightest bit of interest for you, no desire found in those deep purple hues you nearly drown in.
He knows he needs to play this game wisely. He can’t have a woman at his side who despises him, can’t risk the danger of a mother who would rather kill her children than let the riders of his apocalypse trample the grounds of this world. You need to fall for him, have to desire him. For that, your strong-willed mind has to be broken, to turn you into the most ethereal sacrificial lamb the Jujutsu Society has ever known.
With a softly spoken command to "leave us," the room empties. His followers depart swiftly, their obedience causing you to frown. How can they submit to a demon like him?
A demon—that’s what he is to you. Dangerous, devious, twisted—yet alarmingly beautiful. As he approaches, the air seems to catch in your throat, and, of course, Geto notices the heavy swallow you're forced to take.
Is this the moment he’s going to claim you? Right here, in this dreadfully cold room, surrounded by an atmosphere of adoration for his sick schemes? Your body instinctively leans back, shrinking away beneath his stare. You already appear so submissive. He doesn’t trust it.
Standing tall with feet planted firmly on the ground, Geto looms above your kneeling figure. You didn’t expect the shiver that crawls over your skin as your eyes meet his. It’s as though he has flipped a coin and donned a different personality: one of intimidation and something darker, something sick. He might kill you on the spot if you speak now.
Hence why your lips part, yet no words escape before you shut them once more. The nervousness clouds your mind, paralysing your thoughts as you waver between holding his gaze or looking away. You're already caught in his web.
"Learn to love your new home," he says—the only words he speaks before leaving you alone.
The man you expected to force himself upon you, to bruise you, to scar your body and mind—he never touches you. He never seeks you out, never again meets your gaze. Your first night welcomed you to a life of isolation. You can only cling to the sticky feeling of fear that attaches itself to your new daily existence around Geto’s presence.
𓍯𓂃
Every day, you are expected to be part of his reception, dressed in fine clothing, your hair styled in ways befitting your title. Yet, despite this, you are forced to kneel, your forehead touching the ground, just like all his followers. You have reluctantly accepted this role after spending your first weeks locked away in a tiny room, with barely any light or kindness to sustain you.
During those weeks, you never once met your 'husband'. He refused to be bothered by your disobedience, unconcerned with the punishment his most trusted men inflicted upon you.
It all played perfectly into his hands, as you began to believe these men to be far worse monsters than Geto could ever be. After all, he never laid a hand on you, never tortured you, never dragged you into the dark dungeons until you began seeing things.
After months of this twisted game of escape within his temple, with only his henchmen for company, he finally deemed you broken in. No one had ever lasted this long under his torture before. He might have even said he was impressed by your willpower. But that strong-willed part of you was gone the moment Geto finally decided to free you from the darkness.
He may never forget the state he found you in: the hatred in your eyes shifting to relief upon seeing his face, your body worn down and weak from exhaustion, your fighting spirit crushed by the horrors your mind encountered in that cell.
You wanted to be saved by him.
Deprived of human contact, kindness, touch, affection, you crave to be cradled in his arms. You want nothing more than to feel a hand pat your back, to be held tightly while you finally allow yourself to cry until you pass out. But the torture continued. Geto assumed it wouldn’t take much more to get you to eat out of his hand. So, for now, he shall continue this farce. He shall refuse to touch you since you aren’t fully ready to accept his love just yet.
That much was clear since he could still catch you stealing glances towards the nearest escape route, no matter which room you were in. Until eventually, even with the doors unlocked, you no longer dared to look. You were too aware of what they would do to you if they caught you again. You couldn’t bear to be plunged back into the darkness, where the monsters you carried out of that room still haunted your sleep.
So, you learned to listen, to bend in an attempt not to break, while your mind slowly began to fade. Geto loves this version of you. How you bow to him each time he passes, how your body stiffens at the mere sound of his footsteps, how your eyes search for him. What are you looking for? Have your resources finally run dry? Do you need him now? Need him to fill you with his love, his affection, and his seed? Geto can only admit to himself the joy he feels upon comparing this new you to the feisty thing you once were. It makes his desire almost unbearable, his cock heavy with the urge to pump into you until you give out, until you bless him with the perfect children.
You should really stop clinging to your dignity and surrender yourself to him.
Instead, you isolate yourself further. You behave, yes. You don’t act out, you don’t try to escape. You are now a perfect rule follower, much like a robot, little like a wife. But what else could he do but leave you space. He swore to contain himself. He’s not some monster that would hurt another great jujutsu sorcerer. Plus, he adores you too much.
But he does start to worry. Worry for the plans that will fail if you succumb to your depression and fail to cling to him for support, for purpose.
𓍯𓂃
Imagine the surprise Suguru tries to hide upon learning about the person standing in front of his most private chambers, seeking an audience at such a late hour. A defiant shadow of the woman you once were enters his haven—your hair loose and unstyled, a soft and tired expression gracing your beautiful features, and that delicate robe you chose to wear for him. Your guard is finally gone.
After another slumber filled with dark monsters and fears, you find yourself desperately searching for comfort and found yourself in front of these doors.
Suguru moves closer, tearing through the final walls you've erected around yourself. He didn’t expect you to break down merely from his acknowledgement of your presence. Was he too hard on you? He wonders, as gentle hues of purple try to solve the riddle in front of his eyes. The kind words of “You are so beautiful,” make your shoulders sag, they add a tremble to your bottom lip—a reaction Suguru hadn’t anticipated. His sudden gentleness feeds your depraved ego. Careful not to turn into a glutton.
The smell of incense and sandalwood might just become your new favourite. The creamy sweetness blended with earthy undertones seems to be a comfort you didn’t expect once Suguru stands in front of you. The warmth of his palm, another trait you wouldn’t have granted him—you always expected him to be cold to the touch. Yet, as a hand lightly rests against your neck, you feel yourself melt.
To Suguru’s astonishment, you lean into his touch and let your eyes fall shut. This serene moment allows your mind to finally slow down thanks to the much needed human contact. For some reason, you feel safe, protected.
You are so docile now.
Your eyes meet as Suguru tilts your chin upwards, leaning in until his forehead rests against yours, his fingertips tracing the contours of your neck and collarbones. “You’re empty,” he breaks the silence with a gentle voice. “Let me change that…” The tip of his nose nudges yours, soft lips graze your skin before trailing kisses along your jawline. “I can make you forget about your past struggle and give you a new purpose…” Your hand fists the fabric of his attire as an attempt to ground yourself, his affections have you hum in sugary content. “A purpose greater than you ever anticipated.” Suguru’s free arm finds rest around your waist, to stabilise your tired form against his chest while his mouth attaches to your neck, leaving kisses in its wake.
“Give yourself to me, be mine forever,” his husky voice reaches your core, hits exactly where he wants to influence your body most as he whispers the words into your ear. Then he pulls back, to cradle your cheek while commanding you. “Look into my eyes, little dove.” He tilts his head, challenging you to focus on him, to finally speak, surrender.
He needs to taint you, to finally shatter the perfect image you’ve been trying to uphold. “Let me save you.”
You can barely offer more than your pliant body, seemingly overwhelmed by his greed for you. “Save me, please,” the whispered words threaten to burn themselves into Suguru’s memory.
His fingers run over your shoulder, down to your chest and above your stomach. You feel hot beneath his touch, needy to be filled with life and love again.
The alluring touch reaches beneath your robe, between your soft thighs, allowing him to tease you through the fabric of your panties. The tip of his finger grazes the delicate area, soft moans escaping your lips as your hips push into his touch.
The moment lures you forward, to close the distance and have your shaky lips meet his in a searing first kiss. Who would have thought you were that starved? Naughty girl. But he happily leans into your guidance, kissing you without restraint, teeth tugging at your lower lip before his tongue pushes into your mouth, leaving you breathless and needy.
As you break away, your face finds refuge in the curve of his neck, sighing your pleas for “more…” against his warm skin. “Patience, love,” Suguru breathes, eliciting goosebumps to decorate your skin and a flood of pleas to cloud your mind. One of his fingers hooks under the silky fabric, tugging at it teasingly to let the cool air hit your pulsing heat before a single fingertip begins to tease your clit, then enters your clenching little hole.
Your moan is unholy, a sound so exquisite Suguru couldn't prepare himself for it. He won’t let you hide them. A finger redirects your face to force you to look at him and allow him to drown in your glazed eyes. The irregular huffs from your lungs warm his skin, as he loses himself in your irises. You’d kiss him again if not for the firm grip on your chin.
“I’ll make you feel good every night, as often as you need me,” the once-dangerous man promises, before showing you his mercy. His hands release you to finally tug at the overflowing fabric of your robe, exposing your heavenly form to his eyes. And yet, you don’t feel exposed, don’t feel shame anymore as you watch Suguru admire you. You’ve never felt so good.
“Undress me,” Suguru’s firm voice commands, though he seems so pliant, so soft. Let your rush of confidence guide you to close the distance again, let your fingers untie his robes and slip beneath the heavy layers. His eyes close upon your touch, almost as if he’s allowing you control. Leaning in, his temple rests against yours and strands of dark hair drape over your shoulder area while the fingertips that trace along your waistline already feel like home.
As you push the fabrics off his shoulders, you can’t help but explore Suguru’s built figure. The contrast between his skin and the richness of his hair, illuminated by the moonlight, makes him look almost innocent. You swear you feel him shiver as your fingertips thread through his hair, his shaky exhale dampening your skin. “So pretty,” you murmur subconsciously, upon which his eyes open, a newfound desire now pools in them.
You don’t mind the blunt nails that dig into the plush of your ass, don’t mind being pushed back until your calves bump against his bed frame. Yet, he keeps drawing in, to fully push your figure up against him while cupping your face to kiss you again. Suguru’s hardness meets your stomach, tainting your skin with his pre-cum while seeking such teasing pressure. The thought of being inside you any moment now has turned him needy. He kisses you more erratically, lips crashing against yours until they nearly turn numb.
He guides your body to find comfortable rest on his mattress as he leans above you. There is a moment of pure adoration as your hands cradle his cheeks gently, before curious fingertips explore the flexing of muscles beneath the required force to hold himself up. His hand roams over your heaving chest, appreciating the form of your tits before trailing along your waistline and hip to take a firm hold of your inner thigh—parting your legs with ease to prod the head of his cock against your achingly ready hole.
Your eyes shoot up to him as he guides his length to run along your puffy lips, coating himself in your arousal and relishing the way your hips push against him. It’s too tempting not to push into you, especially when you roll yourself against the head of his cock, stretching your entrance around him ever so slightly and forcing a moan from Suguru’s lips. Your hands rest in the long strands of his hair and at the soft skin of his nape. Every fibre of your being lures him forward, pleading for him to make you feel complete.
He succumbs, leaning down to swallow your moans as he whispers, “Forgive me for my sins,” just a second before he sheathes himself deep inside you. You never expected to experience pleasure this intense upon your surrender; the stretch of Suguru’s cock a wicked reward that steals the last drops of sanity from your mind. Your lustful moans echo in the shared space between your bodies, and the chilly temperatures of the season make your panted breaths seem feasible.
“Finally,” you think you hear his breathless murmurs before he leans in again, lips latching onto your perky nipple while Suguru palms your right breast, gently squeezing your soft mound and rolling the nipple between his fingers. His teeth spoil—or rather, overstimulate—your left side, nibbling on the sensitive area until you whine and writhe beneath him, your hips pressing against his cock perfectly. How could he resist putting a little torture on you?
“You feel so good,” his words drip like honey into your ear. The tips of his hair and the trained muscles of his upper body brush against your figure, tickling and teasing your awareness as he sinks deeper to finally bottom out.
The addictive moan that escapes you leaves him no choice but to refuse to kiss you further; he doesn’t want you to cover up the sounds of pleasure he’s bringing forth. Instead, he redirects his mouth to nibble along your exposed skin, planting one love bite after another along your neck until he reaches your collarbone.
His world stops spinning when you moan his name—so shamelessly, so heavenly—that he could ascend right in this moment. “S-Suguru!” you plea, so smoothly, he can’t help but thrust harder into you. Your fingers drag over the duvet while he pulls his heavy cock out of your fluttering walls only to push back in. You cry in pleasure, praises to his name spilling from your lips as his hips roll against you. His hands securely grip your shaking form, holding you perfectly in place for his own selfish desires.
Your soft moans mix with his rich ones, creating the most beautiful harmony as your bodies share the deepest connection possible. Warm palms glide over your figure to take a firm hold of the back of your thighs and press them flush into your chest. His entire weight squishes you further into the mattress and allows for a reach that appears incomprehensible. The sudden intensity seems too much to bear; it makes you painfully aware of just how deep he is inside you. His thighs slap against your hips at a rapid pace, each thrust jolting your body against the mattress as his cock repeatedly hits your cervix.
By surprise, you hear him suck in a sharp breath as he witnesses the state he’s left you in: fat tears staining your cheeks as the mix of pain and pleasure leaves you unable to form coherent thoughts. You’re so perfect, perfectly submissive and ruined for him to rebuild.
Now, you feel his love, the adoration pooling in his dark eyes as he can’t seem to look away. Eager to witness every second of your pleasure. “So perfect, such a good girl for me,” he praises, his lips caressing your forehead to calm you down, while he continues thrusting into you with the same strength, speed, and desire. “Let go for me, give into pleasure,” he encourages, the clamping of your walls a telltale of what impedes.
You barely manage to nod in agreement, moans and hiccups making it impossible to form coherent thoughts while Suguru knocks the air from your lungs. You whimper against his sweaty skin, your breath tickling his neck while your nails claw into his back. “‘S too much,” is your final warning before your walls tighten perfectly around him, and the coil in your stomach finally snaps.
With all this newfound love, he can’t resist breaking his little rule. Suguru seeks out your lips, hurriedly placing his own over yours—surely not to drown yours, most likely to cover his own—as he almost immediately follows your orgasm with his own. He thrusts all the way in, coming deep inside your fluttering walls, which practically milk him dry.
His hand slides from your thigh to gently press against your stomach, accentuating where exactly his length resides and his cum lands, praying that your womb savours every drop of his seed to hopefully turn fruitful.
Your bodies are close enough for your heartbeats to thump against each other’s skin, pants and whimpers stifled by the shared kiss as you both come down from your highs. “Don’t ever dare to leave me.” The words are nothing but a whisper as his lips return to spoil your body with kisses, but the intensity behind them makes your heart stumble. The loneliness he must have repressed since his days at Jujutsu Tech have ended something you never once considered before.
But now you are here. Here to stay with him, to be his family, his weakness and strength all at once and forever. He broke you just to hold you. Now let him make it up, forever.
dividers by @/cafekitsune
#jjk x reader#jjk smut#geto smut#jujutsu kaisen smut#geto x reader#geto x reader smut#jjk geto#geto suguru smut#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jjk dark content#kinktober#jujutsu kaisen fanfic#jjk x you#about.suguru#─ .✦ winter's words#kinktober 2024#cw kidnapping#cw mind break#cw manipulation#cw torture#cw dubcon#cw breeding#cw misogyny#cw conditioning#cw coercion#cw depression#tw stockholm syndrome
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Just finished watching f&f: Tokyo Drift and all I can think about it ex!racerBF Katsuki purposely following you around in his loud af car while your date walks you home. The breaks up was brutal and he didn’t want it to be over but you just couldn’t handle the illegal street racing scene anymore, you wanted to move past that but Katsuki just couldn’t leave behind his legacy of being be best racer in Tokyo.
So, he was all but cackling when he spots you wearing his favorite short skirt while walking to what he presumed to be back to your apartment, but scowls when he notices you’re not alone.
Pressing the breaks, other cars honk their annoyance but Katsuki doesn’t care.
Blowing smoke clouds, the screeching of his back tires telling you he saw you. You try to ignore him, to keep walking and move on but oh no, Katsuki just followed behind you, engine whining with every step.
You finally snap after three blocks of this nonsense.
“What do you want?!” You scream at him, and his smirk is prevalent through his rolled down window.
Your date tries to stand in between Katsuki’s car and you, pedestrians on both side of the street are now staring at the show. You ignore him, all attention on Katsuki because you just couldn’t believe the nerve this asshole had.
Katsuki doesn’t look at your date when he answers. “Get in, I’m winning a race and I want my prize to be there waiting for me at the finish line.”
“Hey man—,” Katsuki cuts off your date.
“She’s my lucky charm and I’m not leaving without her, now beat it punk.” Katsuki’s glowing glare was all that was needed to get your date to run away and you sighed in annoyance.
“Katsuki you can’t keep doing this!” You reluctantly get in the passenger seat, the seatbelt not even clicking in place before he speeds off.
“This is the third date you’ve scared off!” You continue to argue, arms folded across your chest.
Katsuki laughed, one hand on the steering wheel and the other taking its place on your thigh.
“Not my fault you go out with pussies.”
#bnha bakugo katsuki#katsuki x reader#bakugou x reader#bakugou katsuki#katsuki bakugo x reader#bakugo katuski#bnha bakugou#mha bakugou#please he is so cocky
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Here With Me - A Roman Reigns One-Shot
As the Bloodline Civil War takes an unexpected turn of events, Reader comes up with the perfect pick-me-up for her Tribal Chief. Post-Summerslam 2023.
PAIRING: Tribal Chief!Roman Reigns x OC
Warnings: SMUT
Word count: 6k
A/N: Dido's "Here With Me" did so much for the writing of this that I had to name the fic after the song.
-------------------
I’m startled awake by the door clicking shut, my eyes remaining closed as he walks into the bedroom of his penthouse suite. I’m laying on my side facing away from him, but he is clear as day in my mind's eye as he tosses the gold title belt on the sofa across the room. His beloved ula fula, the subject of heated combat tonight, follows. The mattress dips as he sits on his side of the bed, letting out a painful exhale.
My eyes flicker to the digital clock on the nightstand. I returned to the suite right after the main event. It’s currently 1.30 am. I have no idea where he’s been for the last two hours, but I let it slide. He’s come back to me and that’s all that matters.
The pointed silence and the hairs that suddenly stand on the back of my neck tell me he’s staring at me. It’s confirmed when I feel his hand rest on my leg over the white sheets blanketing me. His usually assured, confident touch is sad and distracted. Even in the humming quiet, I can feel the turmoil brewing inside him and understandably so.
The last few weeks have been a lot for him to take in. Getting pinned in London; tensions exploding in MSG; putting his entire legacy on the line against Jey in Orlando, and tonight, at Summerslam, victory at Tribal Combat. But it’s come at a price, as his family has all but disintegrated now. He is exhausted, physically and emotionally. I could see it in his eyes backstage after the match in spite of his best attempts to conceal his true feelings. For him, tonight’s win feels like a loss.
The second his hand slips away, I miss him. He stands up from the bed and heads to the bathroom. I twist around the bed to face the partially closed door, and hear the shower start. I wait for a while before getting up and making my way to him. His head snaps in my direction when I open the door.
“Babe?” he calls out.
“Yeah, it’s me. Don’t panic,” I try to joke, my smile faltering a little when he merely turns back around and faces the wall. I notice the still visible red marks on his broad back, imprints from the kendo stick and leather strap beatings he endured tonight.
"I'm sorry, I musta woke you," he says, as I pull off the baggy t-shirt that belongs to him over my head. I swap my silk bonnet for a shower cap and open the door to the enclosure. Stepping inside, I immediately jump away in alarm when the water beating down on him splashes onto my skin. It’s boiling hot.
“Jesus, Ro! You tryin’ to cook yourself?” I exclaim, quickly grabbing the tap, my wrist frantically twisting the knob to adjust the temperature to a less dangerous degree. He hasn’t flinched once. I steer him away from the water, then slip around to his front and wrap him up in a hug that he clearly, desperately, needs. His body stiffens, hesitant at first, before he sags against me and locks his arms around my waist. His face is tucked in the crook of my neck, nestled comfortably like it belongs there. I can feel the weight of the world on his shoulders.
“It’s okay. Just keep holding me until you’re ready,” I whisper, combing my fingers soothingly through damp strands of his hair as his grip on my waist remains tight. Being the macho hypermasculine entity that he is, I know he doesn’t like it when I see him like this. But relationships are about sticking together through the good times and the bad. I’ll always be there to see him through both.
“I coulda sworn you won your match tonight. What’s wrong?” I lure him in with a coaxing peck to his shoulder, hoping to quicken his response time.
After several seconds of hesitation, he gives in. “I warned them both,” he starts to vent. “I knew it would come to this. You saw for yourself tonight what happens when you become selfish and greedy. All I ever wanted to do was keep my family together, elevate them and their careers. Those two ingrates turned against me and made me out to be some kind of monster. Conspired with the Elders behind my back and questioned my place as the Head of the Table. Now they’re at each other’s throats and our entire family looks weak! I warned 'em, I told 'em-”
"Hey, hey, hey,” I gently shush him, lifting his face so our eyes meet. My heart sinks from how despondent he looks. “Breathe, baby, breathe. Deep breath.” I wait for him to do so, feeling his chest rise and fall against mine, inhaling and exhaling. But his mind is clearly still on his cousins.
“This is all on them,” he continues. “They refused to see the big picture and now it’s gone to shit.” He licks his lips and his eyes are glazed. “The family wants me to intervene, but fuck that. Not after they tried to destroy everything I’ve worked my ass off for the last three years. As far as I’m concerned, they’re dead to me.”
"Don’t say that. Families fight all the time. It’s going to be fine,” I vow, even though I'm in no position to promise such a thing. “Come here." I gently prompt him to turn around, and watch for a few seconds as the less scalding shower stream pelts his shoulders with water. The tribal tattoo adorning the right side of his back is majestic and intimidating up close, and I never pass up the chance to idolize the intricate design. “I want you to relax for me, okay?”
He reaches out and braces his hands on the wall in front of him while I run mine up his back to slowly knead his shoulders, working the tense flesh. His muscles are tight and I do my best to ease them up with my amateur masseuse skills, gleefully aware that I love touching him anyway.
I move down to the middle of his back, and he starts to relax under my touch. As I’m about to retrace my route, I lean in and press soft kisses to his back right before massaging that same spot. Roman exhales again, suggesting he is calmer now, but only just. He’s a tough man to crack, so it feels good each time I become more conversant with his…complexities, if you will. Our relationship is relatively new…We only just met in February this year. I was not a wrestling fan growing up, but I’ve since plunged headfirst into the circus-like controlled chaos that only a pro wrestler is capable of living in. In my defense, it’s easy to dive in when it’s with a man as sweet, charming and criminally sexy as Roman Reigns. Of course, it’s not all rainbows and roses; his prolonged absences, our bitter exes and his psychotic fan girls spring to mind. But I won't change a thing as it’s only made us stronger together. Every day I wonder where he has been all my life, and I want to be with him forever. Yes. I’m in that tight of a chokehold. It’s a whole lot sexier when he’s actually doing the choking.
“You know, other people woulda buckled under the pressure and responsibility long ago. But here you are, standing tall despite the setbacks. That says a lot about you, big boy,” I say to him, my hands still at work. “You’re still the Champ, the longest reign in the last thirty plus years. The twins may have turned their backs on you, but best believe I won’t. I never will.”
Roman scoffs cynically and shakes his head. “Right. Everyone leaves me in the end. Seth. Mox. My ex-wife. Sami. Even Heyman abandoned me once. Now my own cousins.”
“Well, I ain’t none of them,” I answer smoothly, as he turns around to face me.
“I'm not a bad person, Y/N,” he insists, his eyes pleading, as though he’s desperate for me to believe him. I do. I take his hands in mine and stare into his chocolate-colored eyes.
“I know you’re not. You’re not afraid to speak your mind, and you don’t take shit from nobody. You’re passionate and you stand your ground and fight for what’s yours. There’s nothing wrong with that at all. In fact, it’s sexy to me.”
His eyes twinkle mischievously at my choice of words. “Sexy, huh?”
“Mm-hmm. I’m learning a lot about this sweet, sexy man I’m sleeping with and falling in love with.”
The sudden silence that follows is amplified by the rush of the shower water. The look in Roman’s eyes is so intense that my knees grow weak. It’s not the most picture-perfect setting to utter the L word for the very first time, but witnessing first-hand the ferocity with which he defends his pride and his legacy has sparked a wave of awe and devotion and yes, love…through me that I can no longer keep to myself.
"I'm sorry I came back so late. I needed to clear my head,” he says softly, his hand lifting to caress my cheek. The anger in his voice has disappeared, while his eyes and demeanor are much softer…My little declaration has penetrated his armor. He looks down sheepishly at his feet and wets his lips before speaking again. “I kinda feel like I’ve been neglecting you, too…” he adds.
He’s such a sweetheart. To be fair, he’s made up for it by flying me to London, New York and now Detroit to be with him. The beautiful part is, I know I’m not the only one in love…His actions and gestures lately have spoken volumes. But if he’s not ready to say it back, he doesn’t have to. I just need him to know that he has my heart and I’ll always be by his side no matter what.
Pressing my body more firmly against his, my arms wind around his middle as I leave delicate licks and kisses all over his tattooed pec, right over the spot where his heart beats. I hope every day that it’s me his heart beats for.
“I know how frustrated you are about what’s going on. It sucks to feel like you’re losing control,” I tell him, staring up at him through my long lashes. “I can do something for you, Daddy. I could give some control back to you. I can make you feel better,” I offer, my voice as soft and seductive and as enticing as what I’m proposing. My mouth applies more pressure to his wet skin, and his breath hitches when I suckle the shell of his earlobe. “However you want me tonight, you can take me. Just say the word and I’m all yours.” My hands slide down to scrape his firm backside, and his dick twitches between our naked bodies, the exact reaction I yearn for.
For a long moment, he says nothing, only stares at me with his smoldering gaze. The energy simmers between us, and it boils over when he grabs my face and presses his lips to mine. Instantly my skin prickles and my heart pounds as we plunge headlong into each other. Our heads tilt from side to side, our tongues dance together as the water cascades around us, and I lose myself to the heat of our embrace.
Feeling dastardly, I break the kiss to slip his finger into my mouth. My lips drag along his long index finger, keeping eye contact with him the entire time. I suck on it like I am sucking something else, bigger, and the memory has him groaning deeply, his erection straining impatiently against my belly.
“Get on your knees and do that with my dick,” he orders.
Now we’re talking.
Leaning in for one more kiss, I trail my tongue along his throat and down his torso until I’m kneeling on the tiled floor. I wrap my right hand around the base of his engorged dick and tug gently on it. He lets out a quiet whimper, and it is a massive turn-on to know I can elicit such a response from this specimen of a man. Watching him succumb to me is always sexy as hell.
His cock jumps in my grip when I roll my tongue around the tip. He inhales sharply, moving his hands behind my head, and squirms as I lavishly lick along the underside, teasing him. I luxuriate in his throaty groan as I then slowly make him disappear inside my mouth. I stroke and suck simultaneously, relaxing my throat to take him in deeper with every bob of my head.
"Fuck yeah," he pants, his fingers sinking into my scalp. “Suck my dick, beautiful. Don’t fuckin’ stop...”
Right now, I’m all about obeying Daddy. Staring up at him with hazy eyes, my tongue twirls around the base of his dick again before I switch to more intense suctions, my cheeks hollowing as my mouth glides hungrily up and down his entire length. His moans and gasps echo around the enclosure, causing my pussy to moisten and throb with lust. Gripping the back of my head, he holds me all the way down on him, my lips touching his pelvis. He withdraws and then pushes back in, rolling his hips to go even deeper down my throat. "Shit, your mouth feels so good, babe," he moans, a ravenous look in his eyes. My fingers slip underneath to play with his balls while I suck and tongue him down, and I’m rewarded with another desperate groan. I’m so aroused knowing I’m bringing him so much pleasure.
Suddenly his pace quickens, his hips pumping, fucking my mouth more aggressively. Saliva spills down to my chin as his long, thick cock slides more easily in and out of my mouth. Roman lets out another moan before holding my head down again, exploding down my throat with a harsh grunt. He collapses against the shower wall, catching his breath as I pop him out of my mouth and pat his cock against my tongue. Once upon a time, I used to be uncomfortable letting my exes finish in my mouth. I talked about it with Roman, and he was fine with it. But there was something in me that wanted to please him to the fullest, and not long after our first time together, I changed my mind. It’s an experience I learned to fully commit to, and I haven’t looked back since.
"That was fuckin’ amazing. Come here," Roman lauds, tugging me up on my feet and sweeping his lips along mine. "I'm so glad you were awake." The timbre of his voice, deep and laden with desire, sprouts goosebumps all over my skin.
"I don’t sleep as good without you," I reply, running my fingers again through his hair. He leans down and scoops my right breast into his mouth. I moan as the sensation zips straight to my loins. His hands glide down my back to squeeze and caress my ass. He keeps me tight against him, pressing himself firmly on my stomach. Feeling him so turned on sends more chills through my body.
"You know we ain’t done, right?" he says, “We just gettin’ started, baby girl.”
"I hope so..." I reach behind him to turn off the shower. Handing him one of the bathrobes, I wrap myself in another one and open the shower door, taking his hand and leading him back to the bedroom.
We stand at the side of the bed and he undresses me, dragging the robe off my body. I can’t help but blush as he ogles me like he’s seeing me naked for the very first time. He cups my breasts, rolling them in his hands as he kisses me passionately. I tug his robe down his shoulders as I kiss him, my tongue bossily claiming every inch of his mouth as my own. His hands travel all over my naked body, heating me up with his stimulating caresses. He tells me all the time how much he loves my curves, but this is more than that. He’s prepping me for an onslaught. He is about to manhandle me like the sex god that he is, and my breathing quickens and my loins pool with anticipation.
Roman detaches his lips from mine out of nowhere, a devious smile on his gorgeous face. He shoves me onto the bed, flat on my back right on the edge with my legs spread. I can’t hold back my moan as he strokes his dick while stepping between my thighs. The sight of his muscular right arm flexing as his fingers strum his long, hard cock, makes my clit throb.
Ever observant, Roman notices me staring and smiles smugly. “You like this baby? Want me to jack off for you?” he asks, tugging and smacking his dick a little harder, a bead of pre-cum oozing out the tip, and my thighs clamp together to relieve the maddening pressure between them.
“Dude, no! I want it in me,” I practically admonish him, almost offended that he thinks I want anything else. I’m about to bust right now just looking at him.
His smile widens, and he takes my knees and yanks them in opposite directions. He’s enjoying this, torturing me, making me beg for him. “My little slut is so needy. Don’t worry, baby, Daddy will give you what you want.”
As his face nears mine, I instinctively reach up to touch him, but he grabs my wrists and pushes them back down to the mattress above my head.
"Uh-uh. I got plans, baby girl," he informs me with a brief kiss. He searches around for what ends up being his bathrobe and draws the long white belt off, twisting it around his hands and tugging it ominously. We lock darkened eyes, and his tongue swishes hungrily across his lips.
“Gimme your hands.”
I obey. He takes my right hand first, and then my left, crossing my wrists together and winding the belt firmly around them, before pushing my hands back above my head. I’m flat on my back and all tied up with my ass halfway on the bed, legs spread, naked, cunt exposed and at his mercy. I love it. I love that he trusts me and is comfortable enough with me to explore his kinky side. I trust him, too. I’m proud to be the fucktoy of my Tribal Chief.
“Jesus, you’re so fuckin’ hot,” he groans, his eyes raking down my prone frame like he’s famished. My breath catches as I watch him tie his wet hair in his trademark man bun. Then, he bends down between my legs, breathes hard on my clit and then sticks his tongue out to lap at my folds. Right away my body jerks, blooming with sensual heat. He starts licking me with longer strokes, working his tongue all over the surface of my pussy lips, then he breaches, jabbing his tongue in and out of me with expert precision. The quiet of our room amplifies the erotic audio between us; my staccato breaths, his lazy slurping, my wet pussy splashing against his deadly tongue. Then, to murder me, he closes his mouth around my clit and starts sucking it lightly. That’s a big ass mouth, and it takes everything in me to not scream from how good he’s working me. He keeps glancing up at me; I know he’s getting off to my moans and my attempts to grind against his face. He takes me hostage, his muscled arms winding around my thighs to hold me down while he feasts. His soft groans against my flesh, the warmth of his breath, the scratch of his beard on my inner thighs…The combined stimulation is toe-curling, with wave after wave of pleasure bombarding me like a thunderstorm.
“Don’t come yet,” he instructs unexpectedly, and I’m about to cry. His mouth feels so damn good. He continues sucking and licking, wreaking havoc on my sensitive core. I grip the sheets tighter as my back arches off the bed. “Fuck, Roman, please!” I cry out, damn near begging for release.
Of course, my pleas are ignored. He twists his tongue inside me, gifting me with more strokes over my pussy and my engorged bundle. The decadent rhythm of his mouth and tongue on me is edging me dangerously closer to a mind blowing nut. Just when I’m certain I’m about to disobey him in the worst way, he pulls away, his full lips glossy and shining in the lonely lamplight by the bedside. I don’t know whether to be upset or relieved. He licks all the way up to my chest and clasps my left breast in his hand, worrying the sensitive nipple between his fingers while sucking my other breast in his mouth.
"Imma fuck the shit outta you," he whispers to me in a rough and raspy voice, his dark eyes gleaming.
His promise is a direct hit to my groin. "Do it, Daddy. Do that shit," I gasp, squirming under his touch.
He brushes our mouths together, and I sigh softly as my own juices melt from his tongue onto mine. Roman stands upright at the bed’s edge, bends his knees and rubs the tip of his shaft along my slick, softened folds. He lunges forward in one fluid motion, his lips parting in a moan as he slowly slides inside me. I bite down on my bottom lip, my eyes glazing over with pleasure when he draws back out, leaving just the tip, before plunging in again with a sharp snap of his hips. It feels like the wind has been knocked out of me.
"I'm inside of you, baby. This what you want? Want me to take this pussy?" he asks with another deep thrust, his big dick nestled in my warm wetness, and it’s driving me wild.
"Yes, take your pussy Daddy, fuck me," I plead, my voice catching on the desire and lust washing over me.
With that information, he hoists my legs onto his shoulders and picks up the pace, pushing in deeper and filling me to the brim like he always does. I’ve told him more than once that he belongs inside me, and the pure pleasure in his eyes every time we fuck says he agrees wholeheartedly.
"Shiiit, baby, right there, that feels so good…" I whine, feeling him nudge right up against my hilt. He pulls back for a second, and I watch as he holds my legs open and a thick glob of saliva spills from his mouth and onto my pussy. Before I can fully process this, he slams back into me, more easily now, snatching my breath from my lungs. His fingers grasp my hips as he pounds me, slow and balls-deep, to the point that I’m seeing stars. My restrained hands claw at the sheets above me, searching for some kind of leverage as he dicks me down. He has total control of my body and he’s using that power to make me take every inch of him, literally and otherwise. My eyes squeeze shut, mouth falling open as my chest begins to clog and my head begins spinning from his long, lethal strokes.
His hulking upper body closes the space between us and descends on top of mine, bringing us chest to chest. "Breathe, sweetheart," he tells me, and on command, I draw in a raspy breath, alleviating the discomfort in my chest. His evil little smirk tells me he is enjoying every second of my agony. His arms stretch upwards, brushing over the cotton material of the belt securing my wrists and twining his fingers around mine. His muscles flex and ripple as he keeps pumping into me. He nuzzles the spot where my neck and shoulder meet and bites down on it, making me call out his name.
"Goddamn, this pussy good as fuck. Every damn time," he grunts. His hands tighten around mine as his pounding thrusts switch to salacious rolls of his hips, grinding deliciously against me while he swallows my moans, his tongue slipping inside my mouth for another hot, sloppy kiss. My legs wrap around his waist, my ankles locked behind his back to keep him to me.
"Tell me again, baby. Tell me you love me,” he rasps in the middle of our intense kissing.
“I love you, Daddy, mmm,” I moan back, my heart pounding as hard as he is pounding me. It’s a stunning mix of the emotional high of love and the carnal rush of lust that I’ve never felt before with anyone else.
“Yeah, you love me?” He searches my eyes, as engulfed in the throes of passion as I am.
“I do, Roman, I love you so fuckin’ much...unnhh my god…”
He has moved off of me, seizing my legs from around his waist and shoving my knees into the mattress. There’s no time to miss the warmth of his body as he’s back to his rough, brutal strokes, drilling me over and over, stuffing my pussy with his cock. It’s like the animal in him has been unleashed, months of family strife spilling over and transferred to me via his increasing aggressiveness. As my orgasm builds in my stomach, I flex against my restraints again, my fingers craving to dig into his skin, to sink into him the way he’s sinking into me. With one more suffocating thrust, I break at last, and my eyes roll into the back of my head, my moans ringing around the entire suite as I tremble beneath him. His arrogant chuckle tickles my ears, clearly reveling in the blissful state he’s put me in.
Before I can blink, he grabs my waist and flips me roughly onto my belly, bending me over the side of the bed. Hovering over me, he unties the belt binding my hands, and I assume I’m free. But then, he tugs both my arms behind my back and re-ties my wrists together. I’m still recovering from the shock of my orgasm and this new position when his dick slots back in my cunt, and my mind is wiped blank, a strangled moan escaping my lips. Roman gives a few short, stabbing thrusts inside me before finding a rhythm he enjoys.
"God, you feel fuckin’ amazing, baby, so tight and wet for me. Damn,” he hisses behind me. Using his right hand, he slaps my left ass cheek and jiggles it. I gasp from the pain and the pleasure, making my pussy squeeze around his dick with a force that has us both groaning. My fingers scrape against his pelvis as he keeps his momentum, sliding in and out of me, in and out. Oh, fuck, it feels sooo good! He’s so long and girthy that I feel like I’m being split open, but I melt into submission and take it like the fucktoy that I am.
His husky groans are my soundtrack as he fucks me into the bed at a savage pace, having his way with me. Clutching my ass in large handfuls, he spreads my cheeks open and plunges his dick deeper inside me, forcing me up on the tips of my toes. Using his thumb to scoop up my juices, he circles it around the puckered hole of my second opening, a keening cry tumbles out of me and into the sheets as he pushes it deep into the tight entrance.
“Too bad we forgot the lube, I’da fucked this pretty ass all night long,” he says with another slap on my backside, and I can only whimper in response. Pinned face-down to the sheets, I can feel all of it. His thumb fucking my asshole, his magic cock stretching my other hole wide open, his powerful tree trunk like legs barricading mine against the side of the bed. My body is so riled up that my pussy reacts by leaking all over his cock, the gush of my nectar sending a pleasurable sensation through us both.
“Mm-hmm, make a mess on my dick, baby, keep comin’ all over it,” he taunts me. He lifts both my legs off the floor and onto the bed, arching my back and spreading my knees wide. From there, he wraps his hand around my hip, his fingers pressing into my flesh, and he rocks me back and forth on that big ass dick, making me move with him. We moan together at how good we’re making each other feel. Every sound resonates through my heated body; the inevitable squelches of my dripping cunt, our skins smacking lewdly together, our sex filling the air with a familiar primal scent that belongs to no one but us.
My brain is on sensory overload as he speeds up his thrusts, his balls slapping against my clit as he hammers into my pussy with newfound aggression. The pressure is building inside me at a dizzying, alarming rate, so much so that I use my bound hands to push again at his lower abs. This time I succeed in pushing him off, but only for a second.
“What’chu doin’? Don’t run, c’mere,” he growls, sliding his dick back in me right before it slips out, and I cry out as he impales me hard on his shaft. He spanks my ass hard for my bad behavior. “I ain’t goin’ nowhere. Take this fuckin’ dick.”
Seizing my wayward hand in one of his, he buries himself in me, deep-diving in my g-spot, making my walls contract around his dick again. My voice is all but gone, I’m that spent. But Roman wants more. He’s an expert at coaxing more out of me even when I have nothing left.
"Tell me who you belong to, huh. Who’s my slut?" he demands, giving my ass an underhand slap.
"I'm your slut," I slur.
"What’chu say?"
"I'm your slut, Daddy," I enunciate with great effort, inebriated in a cocktail of love and ecstasy.
Another stinging smack on my butt.
"Louder."
"I'm your slut!" I bellow, my voice cut off when Roman pins me down by the back of my neck, my cheek pressed into the mattress. This forces a deeper arch in my back, opening me up to be plowed mercilessly by his dick. The pressure of his fingers on both sides of my throat has me struggling for breath. I’m high from overwhelming pleasure right now, and that menacing coil that’s been winding in my belly finally snaps again.
“Ohmygod…ohmygod…fuck, fuck, fuck!” My body explodes again, and I’m shaking like I’ve been possessed by a supernatural entity. I know Roman can feel it too, as he’s moaning and gasping, a handful of my vibrating ass cheek in his grasp because the grip of my pussy is about to break his dick in half. I’m reduced to a weak, moaning mess as somehow he continues fucking me senseless. Then, with a loud, hoarse grunt, he yanks his dick out of me. One squeeze is all he needs, expletives tumbling around my name as he comes all over my ass, warm, thick droplets spilling onto my backside. I can hear the wet, slippery skin on skin contact as he strokes out his nut, and the sound arouses me despite my thoroughly fucked disposition.
“Fuck!” he moans out, leaning tiredly into me, his drained cock mashed against my ass. “Damn, baby. Damn.”
The rest of my lifeless body melts onto the bed, my arms limp on my lower back, my mouth hanging open. I’m barely cognizant of him loosening the belt from my wrists. When he’s done, he seizes my ass cheeks with both hands, slapping them together one last time before walking away from the destruction on the bed. I haven’t moved an inch. My ass is still in the air and my eyes are starting to drift shut. It won’t be the first time he’s fucked me right to sleep. However, before I succumb to the darkness, his deep voice rouses me.
“Don’t go to sleep yet, baby. Come here.”
I force my eyes open and lift my head to search for him. He’s stretched out on the other side of the bed, watching me with unabashed amusement.
“We ain’t done?” I mewl, exhausted.
“Nope. But we’re taking a little break for now. Come sit on top of Daddy.”
That’s a dangerous position to be in, especially as his dick is still hard and covered in layers of my cum. But how can I ever resist my man? With all the strength I have left, I crawl up the bed towards my lover. His brawny arms wrap around my body and ease me on top of him. He grabs his bathrobe and wipes his mess off my backside, before rubbing my back and my thigh with those big callused hands of his. He feathers a kiss on my forehead, my nose and then my mouth, in the sweetest, most tender of kisses. "You're so good to me, baby. I appreciate you so much," he whispers against my lips.
"Anything for you, baby," I remind him, dabbing away the sweat from his forehead with the bathrobe. "Do you feel better?"
"I do." His soft, beautiful eyes gaze into mine, observing me. “I know that you worry about me a lot, and I’m sorry,” he says.
"Don’t ever be sorry. I always worry about the people I love. I just want you to be okay," I answer.
"I know, and that means a lot to me. You have no idea how much you mean to me, baby girl. I think about you all the time...I feel at home every time I’m out there performing for the fans, but coming home to you is always my top priority," he tells me. His eyes shine with emotion. "I love being with you. I love calling you mine and me, yours. I’m so happy you love me, because I love you too baby, so much."
Oh my god. He’s said it. I’m not imagining it this time. Tears spring to my eyes but I quickly blink them away. "I love you, Roman," I breathe, and press my lips to his, grateful to have this amazing man in my life. Our mouths move sensually together as I glide my palms down the side of his face, smoothing out the bristles of his beard. He lets out a throaty moan at my touch, at my kiss. I could stay like this forever, but my baby needs his rest.
“You should get some sleep. You had a long night tonight,” I say.
He raises an eyebrow at me. “I think you’ve forgot when I said we’re just getting started. It’s your turn to fuck me.”
“Damn, you were being for real huh.”
“Course I was. You’re my little fucktoy, aren’t you?” Two of his fingers rub across my bottom lip before slipping into my mouth, as he hypnotizes me with his smoldering, effortlessly sexy stare. “I can use you however I want, however long I want, as many times as I want. Right?”
I may be fatigued from the barrage of orgasms he’s blessed me with tonight, but I’ve since realized that no matter how tired I feel, I’m still greedy for that big ol’ dick. He’s turned me out and turned me into a raging nympho in the process. I nod thirstily, gasping around his fingers as I feel his dick stiffen against the swollen mound of my cunt, ready for me again.
“Good girl.” His fingers slide from my mouth to join the rest of their counterparts down south. Together, the ten of them gather the supple cheeks of my ass, molding, caressing, a devilish twinkle in Roman’s eyes at the hunger shining in mine. “Recess is over sweetheart,” he announces. “Ride this dick. And this time, I’m nuttin’ all up in that sweet pussy of yours.”
Fuck, I'm such a slut. It’s almost embarrassing, the way my already battered pussy instantly flutters at his low, husky tone, at the thought of getting filled up with his seed. I reach down to grip his cock, sliding the tip along my wet slit to lube it with more of my juices. The shiver of his big body as I stroke him sends a thrill through me. His big hands envelop my hips once more as I lower myself down on his waiting erection, sending a jolt of electricity through our bodies as we begin the eternal, spellbinding dance of lovers all over again.
THE END
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The good girl in me wants so badly to apologize for writing so much smut, but dammit I’m not sorry! Roman is sexy af lol
Please leave feedback. I love feedback!
Banner made by me. All Roman gifs by @romanreigns. Credit to owners of the other pics and gifs.
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#roman reigns#wwe#roman reigns fanfiction#roman reigns smut#roman reigns fanfic#roman reigns x black!oc#roman reigns x black!reader#roman reigns x reader#roman reigns x black reader#roman reigns x black oc#the tribal chief#the bloodline#head of the table
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how do you give your ocs last names that both fit the character and sound like a real plausible name? your oc names always sound really good and I can never figure out how to give mine last names without them sounding too fantasy
mostly i just cycle through name ideas until i find one that clicks. i usually have a vague theme in mind which guides my research on common surnames, word etymology and variations throughout language, culture and history. for example, giving annie, emery and jocelyn the last name "crane" came from wanting a surname that evoked both slender elegance and undertones of creepiness and/or the gothic, since the crane family is a gothic horror family associated with spider motifs. cranes are elegant but also slightly grotesquely proportioned birds, and "crane" is the protagonist's last name in the short horror story the legend of sleepy hollow, which has gothic themes. it also rolls off the tongue following the names "annie" "emery" and "jocelyn", so it checks off all the requirements. "tanaka", chiyo's last name, is a common japanese last name that translates literally to "center of the rice paddy", which reflects chiyo's humble origins as the daughter of rural rice farmers in the north of japan, while her first name translates to "thousand (years), eternal", reflecting her aspirations to achieve immortality either through a legacy of art or literal transcendence from the flesh to the machine/digital consciousness.
sometimes i also settle on last names before i choose first names, because it can be easier. "lincoln ray" started as "ray", a name that is both masculine and strong and also evokes light and hope, and "lincoln" followed as a first name because i wanted him to have a traditionally usamerican-sounding name with an implied hint of bloody violence (which, since president lincoln was assassinated by being shot in the back of the head, fits the bill). nicky's last name, dyatlov, is a fairly common russian surname which means "woodpecker". woodpeckers have black and white feathers; nicky has black and white hair. it's also a name associated with death and misfortune; the infamous dyatlov pass incident being of course the most obvious example, but also the surname of the deputy chief engineer on duty on the night of the chernobyl nuclear power plant disaster. nicky is a fairly unsettling figure whose presence usually means something unfortunate is going to happen, so it was fitting. "nikita" or "nicky" followed as a first name because nicky is nonbinary, and "nikita" is a gender neutral name. it also sounds rather cute and charming, which reflects nicky's deceptively polite, perpetually smiling nature. it actually means "unconquered" or "victor", which also neatly reflects nicky's iron willpower and relentlessly obsessive tendencies.
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Theme #07: Clio by @pneuma-themes
Where you walk, my dearest friend, fate shall surely follow.
Live Preview (Temporary) / Static Preview: [Index] [Permalink] / Get the code: [pastebin] [github]
This is intended to be a fansite! I am finally happy with how this turned out after a few iterations. This theme features Emet-Selch from Final Fantasy XIV. Be warned going into the live preview as this theme heavily features content that can be found on various points of Shadowbringers and Endwalker, which may or may not be a spoiler!
Features:
Customizable post widths and font sizes. The live preview uses 650px post width and 13px font size. Enter the desired post width on the post width field and the desired font size on the font size field on the Customization page.
One accent color, 7 color options
Option for title alignment (centered/lefthand side/righthand side) to accommodate for the chosen header image.
Option to display or hide the blog title.
Built-in dual sidebar layout. All the boxes on the sidebar (members, events, updates, and site info) and the footer (disclaimer, about, and search box) can be edited from the code directly.
5 custom links at the topbar with additional 8 links on the navigation box.
Customizable photoset gutter. The live preview uses 10px gutter.
A header image. The size of the header (w x h) is the width of your screen x 350px. So if your screen width is 1900px, then the size of your header should be 1900 x 350px.
Notes:
This theme uses @eggdesign's NPF reverse-compatible template. Everything should be working as expected, except for some things noted below.
As we slowly transition into the new editor, posts made by the legacy editor will eventually break. This is particularly evident in a quote post reblogged via the new editor, in which the post will be rendered as a text post with blockquote and cannot be styled similarly to a legacy quote post. This is a Tumblr bug as far as I am concerned and from what other people have told me, so unfortunately there is nothing I can do about it.
I've written a short guide on how to set up this theme here. Everything else is annotated in the code, so do read through them before shooting me an ask!
Credits:
NPF reverse-compatible template: @eggdesign
Header: ユズリコ❂ (yuzuriko_red @ Twitter)
Icon font: Phosphor Icons
Icons (affiliates, members) and toggle tags on click: @alydae
Fonts: Nunito, Merriweather @ Google Fonts
customAudio.js: @annasthms
photoset.css with lightbox: @annasthms and @eggdesign
Search box, minified spotify player: @glenthemes
Toggle-able tumblr controls: @seyche
Shorten note count: @shythemes
Responsive video script: @nouvae
Please like and reblog if you like this theme or are using it!
#themehunter#allresources#chaoticresources#completeresources#*theme: clio#*mine: theme#*mine: all#still ugly crying over emet-selch and hythlodaeus and azem
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RE: Not So Berry Legacy Challenge
howdy! so a long, long time ago in like 2019, i decided that i wanted to rewrite the not so berry challenge originally by @lilsimsie and @alwaysimming to fit in some more of the occults and other packs we’ve gotten over the years since their challenge was originally created. this was also partially inspired after seeing @sweetlysimss had created an updated version of the original NSB challenge as well around the same time, so credit where credit is due! check out both the original challenge and sweetlysimss’ updated version — without them i wouldn’t have been able to be confident in recreating the challenge to suit my own tastes and interests! ♡
the challenge still follows a similar structure to the original challenge, but i’ve adjusted many of the generations to fit storylines that i find more fun, adjusted the rules to things that i personally would like to explore, and make use of packs that i don’t find myself playing with to their full potential too often. i especially added a lot of occult gameplay, because i tend to just make occult sims and then don’t do much to play with their specific gameplay or with the aspirations that come with the pack they’re in.
if you’d like to see a full rundown of the entire legacy, click here to see the google doc i’ve made with all of the generations’ rules laid out for you. below the cut is the first generation’s rules so you can get an idea of what the full challenge will be like!
GENERATION ONE: MINT GREEN
You are an alien who doesn’t quite understand all of what earth has to offer. You and your minty self decide to take the best course of action and learn about the world around you—through science! With the power of two worlds (literally) in your hands, you go a little...crazy with the power at your fingertips, and strive to become the world’s first alien mad scientist.
> The Sim
Traits: Genius, Ambitious, Materialistic
Aspiration: Chief of Mischief
Career: Scientist
Species: Alien
> Rules
Skills, Career, and Aspiration
Master scientist career
Complete Chief of Mischief aspiration
Master mischief and logic skills
Personal Life
Marry human spouse
Have at least one enemy (optional: who has a voodoo doll attached for...purposes)
Use the Electroflux Wormhole Generator to visit your home planet of Sixam
Number of children this generation doesn’t matter, but heir must be human
Optional
Complete the elements collection — you have to know all about the elements on this planet!
Live in StrangerVille & solve the StrangerVille mystery with your spouse. Why does the flora around here seem so familiar?
#simblr#new simblr#ts4#ts4 simblr#the sims 4#the sims 4 simblr#the sims#the sims community#ts4 challenge#the sims 4 challenge#not so berry challenge#not so berry#ts4 not so berry#the sims 4 not so berry#challenges#legacy challenge#ts4 legacy challenge#the sims 4 legacy challenge#RE not so berry#RE: not so berry#bold to be posting a whole legacy challenge when im still a new simblr but idc im playing with this challenge so i wanted to introduce it
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How to set up the FUN party in the sims? 🎉
Questions to ask yourself
What is the event?
Who's invited?
Is there a theme?
Where is the party located?
What's the age of the sims?
Who is this party for?
Do I have to do any CC shopping for this event?
Do I need to download a mod for this party?
Gameplay Tips:
Take advantage of the seasons calendar to set up the event. Example: party spirit tradition, sims will do autonomous interactions that show they're feeling festive. Example: Give Gifts tradition, sims will give you gifts If you want sims not to work during the event, you can click for them to not go to work that day too
Set up VFX, if that's what your party needs [RVSN mod]
Create a menu for your sims, and prepare the food a day in advance
Consider sim's lifestyles. Is a sim a vegetarian, or lactose-intolerant? Are there any kids to give them pizza? Is there a junk food lifestyle sim you want to give them something greasy?
Buffet Table [use bb.moveobjects] to get more slots available
Set up Cannons in correct placement aligned with where you want your sims to celebrate
Have a recovered copy your save, if you don't want to go through the mess of cleaning/removing build mode objects. Not only that, but sometimes, you may need to film again. If you save before the party starts, you can keep replaying the party until you get the party you want (hope this makes sense)
The baby shower event from growing together, sims give the host gifts autonomously and sims celebrate properly when the cannon is fired
Set up cannons from growing together expansion pack, in a correct placement that is aligned with where you want your sims to celebrate accordingly
MWS wedding events are perfect for events you need sims to follow your instructions such as "dance" "gather around"
Steady seat is perfect for seating arrangements
Have a photoshoot area ready, if the party needs it, so you can pose your sims. I recommend custom pose shopping in advance, but after the fact isn't bad either; just don't delete the copy of your save until you've completed that.
Place gameplay objects you need for the party around the lot. Example: If it's a birthday party and there's space, have the pirate ship "rented". You know how parents add bouncy castles and stuff for events? Think of it like that.
When it comes to arranging the table, have your sim add the placemat from parenthood around the table. Sometimes, your sim may not be able to add the placement, you can go into build mode and move the placement to the one your sim couldn't and go back into live mode and have your sim do it all over again until every spot has a placemat. If you have better-build-buy mod, you can copy the debug object yourself and place it around.
When it comes to decorating and you are having issues with slots, I recommend OMSP. It is explained in my video at 28:18♥
If you're having a dinner party, have your sim "pick up serving" for drinks and food, your sim will place the food in their inventory and you can place it yourself around the table. Perfect example to see this is Joy of Life Legacy challenge when my sim had a Winterfest dinner party (33:26)*
Don't forget to add kiss of freshness lot modifier on your lot, so food doesn't expire
Place the food over the placemat, and have their drink to their right side.
Zero's drinking mod works like placemat where your sims can place drinks around the table. There's age appropriate drinks too like juices and sodas for child/teen sims.
The Sims 4 gallery contains rooms where there's food for your sims and if you didn't have time to cook. Miss_frogstar has a bunch of rooms for your sims that contain food. It's really detailed for you.
Have a serving table, if your party is meant to have a lot of guests and food. It takes the load off you, when you don't have to worry about table slots for larger events.
Create sims you can hire for events. Think of these sims like Nurse Joy from Pokémon. You can have this sim be a townie in all your saves. Cheat their skills and hire them for events/set their outfits.
Lock them doors LMAO! Sims love to misbehave and go everywhere, so it's easier to have them be in certain areas by locking the door of the rooms you don't want them to be in.
I also recommend saving the party decorated home in your gallery, so you can just place it again in the future and remix it to how you want it
Sometimes you got to combine different events to create the atmosphere you want in your game, so don't be too hard on yourself, if you feel like it's not going how you want. We all know parties in the sims isn't perfect at all
Mods Mentioned Sasha's Space party mods recommendation TheGoldSims Better Birthday Set Better build buy Zero’s drink on table mod Gala place setting by somik and Sevrinka Surelysims placemat mod OMSP OMSP SHELF Pick up all servings by brazen lotus
WCIF SYB UNICORN COLLECTION Sims 4 ACNH birthday cc BrittPink adopted mods Rex Baby Shower set + Birthday set Platinum Luxe Sims wall letters* (I saw on Platinum Luxe's website, you have to contact them atm) Dreamteamsims birthday Anye Party Inabadromance birthday Happy birthday sign by simmerkate Birthday photoshoot set by simmerkate SG5150 (idk the link for the party banner if you know pls help)
The Sims gallery to follow miss_frogstar (food rooms)
It is best to prepare in advance, so things fall into place by the time the event is set up for you in game. Thank you to all the simmers who helped me create this bday party, CC, Mod creators💕
#the sims 4#sims 4#the sims#sims party#the sims 4 party#sims 4 gameplay tips#sims 4 mods#sims 4 cc#sims 4 cc recs#sims 4 cc recomendation#sims 4 wcif#sims 4 tips#sims 4 gameplay#sims 4 party#sims 4 mod recomendation#Sasha's Space mod recomendation#Sasha's Space cc recomendation#Sasha's Space gameplay tips
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A Match Made in England
Episode 1: Just two kids from england; the ups and downs of football...
A/N: This got put as mature (i have no idea why hahah) so I've re-uploaded it to make sure it's appropriate.
Series Masterlist | Next part
Episode 1
Settling into the inviting cushions, you became a tableau of spring comfort. The distant hum of a camera being activated blended seamlessly with the rustling leaves outdoors. Levi, the seasoned producer with a knack for drawing out personal narratives, sat across from you. His demeanor was calm yet engaging, a reassuring presence amid the studio's buzzing equipment.
"Okay, where to begin..." you mused aloud.
Levi nodded thoughtfully. "What about signing for England?"
The scene transitions to a bustling pressroom years earlier, where a 17-year-old you, with long, flowing hair cascading down your back, sat nervously next to Sarina Weigman after being signed to the England national team.
Reporters leaned forward eagerly, their cameras clicking and pens poised.
One interviewer asked, "Y/N, you're the youngest Lioness to join the senior team. Do you feel the weight of expectations?"
With a shy smile, your long hair framing your face, you responded, "Honestly, it's an honor to be here. I'm just going to give my best and learn from these incredible players and coaches."
Another reporter chimed in, "Y/N, what do you think you bring to the team at such a young age?"
You took a moment, glancing at Sarina for reassurance. "I think I bring a fresh perspective and a lot of energy. I know I have a lot to learn, but I'm eager to soak up as much as I can from my teammates and coaches. Being young means I have time to grow and improve."
The flashback showed you nervously twiddling your fingers as more questions came your way.
"Do you feel any pressure considering your brother's legacy in football?" one reporter asked, the question hanging heavily in the air.
Your smile faltered for a brief second before you composed yourself. "Of course, there's always pressure when you're following in the footsteps of someone successful. But I'm here to make my own mark and contribute to the team in my own way."
Cutting to a childhood flashback, you and your older brother Noah were seen playing football in the backyard, his encouraging voice guiding your early steps in the sport.
Back in the present, you ran your fingers through your now slightly shorter hair, reflecting on that moment with Levi."
"I probably would've lied back then and said I had nothing to prove. At the time, I truly hated people who asked me about my age," you laughed. "I hated people knowing I was so much younger than everyone else, you know. I guess I felt belittled and also very undermined."
Levi looked intrigued. "How come?"
You sighed, thinking back. "I don't know, when I look back on it now, l'm like damn, you know. I was just a kid. The amount of pressure I was under—"
The little screen continued to display snippets of that press conference, overlaying the commentary, "Y/N Morrison, only 17 when she first started playing for England. Now, at 19, she stands as the youngest player in the senior squad."
Levi leaned forward with genuine curiosity. "Can you tell us more about Noah? How did he influence your journey in football?"
Another childhood flashback played out, this time of you and Noah practicing together, his supportive presence shaping your early skills and love for the game.
Levi continued, his voice gentle and probing. "Do you think some of that pressure came from your brother and the legacy he left behind?"
An awkward pause hung in the air before you let out a light laugh, breaking the tension. "Uh, yeah. Haha- I don't think being the sister of an already well-known Morrison did me any favors, no."
As the crew members bustled around, adjusting cameras and discussing logistics for the next segment, you took a moment to collect yourself, reflecting on the profound journey you had just shared and preparing to continue with the interview.
The screen seamlessly transitioned into a poignant montage. One particular video clip unveiled a pivotal moment in your shared narrative. It was a chilly evening at a local pitch, where a younger you, barely a teenager, kicked the ball around with a sense of determination mirrored in Noah's watchful gaze. This seemingly ordinary moment turned out to be a precursor to the journey that awaited you.
The video shifted to a rainy afternoon at a school tournament, where Noah, now a mentor as well as a brother, stood on the sidelines cheering your every move.
The camera caught a glimpse of Noah sharing insights and encouragement, laving the foundation for a dvnamic that encouragement, laying the foundation for a dynamic that extended beyond sibling ties.
As the montage continued, it unfolded a series of snapshots: Noah consoling you after a tough loss, the two celebrating victories with infectious joy, and the subtle exchange of nods and smiles that spoke of an unspoken understanding. Your story went beyond the spotlight, a tale of shared passion, shared defeats, and the unwavering support that siblings uniquely understand. Y/N Morrison, shaped by the echoes of Noah's footsteps, began to carve her own narrative in the beautiful game.
The scenes shifted to a day of reckoning, the moment you received your call-up to the national team. Noah, now a seasoned player, embraced you in a tight hug, the pride in his eyes telling a story of shared dreams realized. And then, the turning point. Y/N Morrison, amidst her brother's legacy, emerged as a rising star in her own right. The torch passed not just through genes but through a bond forged on countless pitches, a bond that shaped you into the player you are today.
In a touching moment, the montage included a clip where, as soon as a match ended, Noah handed his sweat-soaked shirt to you—a symbolic gesture of support and shared triumphs.
As the montage concluded, the screen faded back to the interview room, where your reflective gaze spoke volumes.
Levi, now deeply moved by the narrative that had unfolded, adjusted his notes and looked at you with a newfound respect for your journey.
The interviewer, acknowledging the depth of your shared journey, posed one final question.
Interviewer: "Looking back now, how do you see your role within the legacy you and Noah have created in the football world?"
You, with a thoughtful smile: "I see it as a story still unfolding. Noah laid the foundation, and now I'm building upon it. lum-"
Levi nodded approvingly, allowing the weight of your words to resonate in the room. However, the interview had ventured into personal territory, and you couldn't shake off the vulnerability that surfaced with the last question.
Emily, noticing your unease, interjected gently, "Why don't we take five, everyone? Y/N, take your time. We can continue whenever you're ready."
You nodded gratefully, feeling a mix of emotions after reliving such intimate moments of your journey.
You walked off the set, feeling a whirlwind of emotions after the intense interview. Emily followed closely behind, her pace matching your thoughtful stride.
"Did I do okay?" You asked with a hint of uncertainty. "I stumbled at the end—"
"You did great, Y/N! Don't worry," Emily reassured her with a warm smile. "These guys can be quite intense, don't worry I'm sure Jude is in Madrid right now, getting the same level of interrogation. Why don't you wait here—" She gestured towards the makeshift living room that had been set up in one of the spare rooms. "I'll call you back in ten?"
You nodded gratefully, finding comfort in Emily's words. You entered the cozy room, furnished with plush cushions and soft lighting, and sat down on the comfortable sofa. The room exuded a sense of calm, a stark contrast to the a stark contrast to the bustling energy of the studio outside.
As you waited, you pulled out your phone and began scrolling through messages. Moments later, a text from Jude popped up.
Jude: Hey there, dove! How's the hot seat treating you?
You grinned at his message, appreciating his attempt to lighten the mood.
Y/N: Surviving so far! They didn't ask me about my secret dance moves yet.
Jude: Phew, dodged one there! Remember, if all else fails, just dazzle them with your best dance move.
You chuckled softly, enjoying your playful banter despite the distance between them. You felt a surge of warmth and affection for Jude, grateful for his ability to make you smile even in challenging moments.
Your messages continued, Jude teasing you about his own interviews and you responding with playful comebacks.
Jude: Hey, have you thought any more about Madrid?
You hesitated, your heart sinking as you read his message.
You took a deep breath before responding.
Y/N: Jude, please. I can't have this conversation again.
Jude: It's been six months, Y/N. First it was the press mania, then it was your sister's baby, now it's this TV show. When are we going to talk about it?
Your fingers hovered over the screen, conflicted emotions swirling inside you.
Y/N: My answer hasn't changed, Jude. I love you, but I love my life here too. Things are finally starting to settle down, and—
Jude: No, they're not. You're lethargic, you're sitting out almost every game now, you're always not sleeping-
Your heart raced, tears welling up in your eyes. You couldn't bear to have this argument again.
Y/N: I've been helping my sister, Jude.
Jude: But it's not just that, is it? Your barely eating, your constantly distracting yourself with work. You need to take a break.
You felt a pang of guilt. You knew Jude was right, but you weren't ready to face that reality.
Y/N: Jude, I can't have this row again.
Jude: Y/N, I'm trying to be there for you, but you won't let me in!
You closed her eyes, tears streaming down your cheeks as she struggled to find the right words. Your eyes scroll along judes words once more, lethagic, trouble sleeping, weak fitness, trouble eating...
He was right of course. Ever since the end of the world cup, you had become incredibly tired, with limited energy for the basics of tasks. You had made excuses that it was the press interviews, the constant ware and tare of family life and fame, or even sometimes just thinking you weren't getting enough hours. Deep down, you knew it was something more.
As much as you would regret it, there was a part of you that wished it was a ACL injury, something that yes would take time to heal, but could be cured. Atleast you'd know what was wrong with you. Instead whatever kept you up at night, made it difficult to keep down food and made it impossible to stay on top in football games, was tearing both you and your relationship with Jude apart
Setting your phone down on the sofa, you walked over to the kitchenette area to pour herself a glass of water. As you stood there, contemplating your next move, you felt a sudden pang in her abdomen—a sharp cramp that caught you off guard.
You winced, clutching your stomach as you leaned against the counter. It wasn't the first time you'd felt this way lately, but it was a stark reminder of your ongoing health struggles.
Taking a deep breath to steady herself, you returned to the sofa and picked up your phone. With a determined expression, she typed out a message to Jude.
Y/N: Good luck with your match tonight. See you monday
Jude sat in a cozy room tucked away within the Real Madrid training grounds, the distant echoes of his teammates preparing for their final training session before the upcoming match seeping through the slightly ajar door. His phone buzzed incessantly with messages from you. With a faint sigh, he retrieved it from his pocket and read your latest text:
"Good luck with your match tonight. See you Monday x." His jaw tightened in frustration; you had once again changed the subject, avoiding the difficult conversation he knew you were reluctant to have.
"Jude, you still with us?" Romeo's voice cut through his reverie. Jude blinked, refocusing on the Spanish producer seated across from him. "Oh, uh, yeah. Sorry about that." He slipped his phone back into his pocket, mentally shifting gears to engage in the interview.
Romeo chuckled knowingly. "No worries. Let's continue.
Your journey in football-from your early days in Birmingham to now playing for Real Madrid-has been remarkable. How do you reflect on your career so far?"Jude nodded thoughtfully, a flicker of nostalgia in his eyes.
"It's been a whirlwind, mate. Starting out at Birmingham City as a young lad, then moving to Dortmund, and finally landing here at Madrid-it's been nothing short of a dream come true. Each step has taught me invaluable lessons, both on and off the pitch."
Leaning forward with interest, Romeo probed further."You've undoubtedly faced numerous challenges along the way. What would you consider the biggest challenge of your career?"
Jude grinned wryly, his mind drifting momentarily to thoughts of you. "Well, besides dodging defenders on the pitch, adapting to different leagues and cultures has been quite the challenge. Each club has its own unique style and expectations. But hey, I thrive on challenges; they've helped me evolve as both a player and a person."
Romeo's eyes sparkled with curiosity. "And what about the immense pressure of playing for a club as prestigious as Real Madrid? How do you manage that?"
A faint smile tugged at Jude's lips as he thought of his experiences. "Oh, you know, I just pretend I'm still kickin' it back in Brum with me mates. Nah, seriously though, the pressure is immense, but it's also an incredible privilege. Playing for Real Madrid demands peak performance every day. I rely on my training regimen, the banter with my teammates, and saying focused on my goals."
Romeo chuckled at Jude's casual demeanor. "Looking ahead, what are your personal and professional aspirations for the future?"
Jude leaned back, considering. "Well, professionally, I want to keep raising the bar, winning titles with Real Madrid, and maybe snaggin' a few Player of the Year awards along the way. But personally, I want to be there for the people who matter most to me, supporting 'em in every way I can."
Picking up on the personal note, Romeo inquired further.
"Family and relationships seem pivotal in your life. How do you manage to balance the demands of your career with your personal commitments?"
Jude's expression softened with a genuine warmth as he thought of you. "Ah, it's a juggle, mate. But having a strong support system makes all the difference. My family, friends, and my girlfriend-they keep me grounded. Despite the challenges and the distances, we find ways to make it work."
Romeo nodded, impressed by Jude's candid responses.
"Thank you for sharing your journey with us, Jude. It's been a pleasure."
"Cheers, Romeo," Jude replied warmly, though his thoughts were still partly occupied by concerns for you. As the interview concluded, he couldn't shake off the growing determination to support you, despite your stubbornness. It reminded him of the first time he had got sick, a couple weeks after they had moved into your family home.
Jude lay in bed, feeling utterly miserable. His head throbbed, his throat felt like sandpaper, and every muscle ached. He had caught a nasty bug, and it was knocking him down hard. Despite his condition, he had a match later that day, and he knew he had to rally.
You, always the caretaker, had spent the entire morning fussing over him, bringing him tea and making sure he took his medication. You were a natural nurse, your concern evident in the way you flitted around the room, fetching blankets and adjusting pillows.
"You really don't have to stay," Jude protested weakly, though secretly grateful for your presence.
You chuckled softly, brushing his hair back from his forehead. "Of course I do. Who else is going to make sure you don't forget to take your medicine?"
Jude managed a weak smile, reaching out to grasp your hand. "You're too good to me, you know that?"
"Just rest," you insisted, squeezing his hand gently before heading out to run some errands.
The next morning, Jude woke up feeling marginally better but was still under the weather. You, on the other hand, woke up feeling awful. Your head pounded, your nose was stuffed, and you felt like you hadn't slept at all. Despite feeling under the weather, you stubbornly insisted on going about your day as usual. You had meetings to attend and training sessions to oversee-there was no time to be sick.
Jude watched you with increasing concern as you hurried around the apartment, trying to ignore your symptoms.
"Y/N, maybe you should stay home today," he suggested again, his voice laced with worry. "You look like you could use some rest."
You waved off his concern with a weak smile. "I'll be fine, Jude. It's just a cold. I can't afford to miss work today."
Jude sat up in bed, his expression earnest. "I know you're tough, but pushing yourself when you're sick won't do you any favors. Let me take care of you for a change."
You paused, torn between your determination and Jude's heartfelt plea. You sighed, knowing he had a point but not wanting to admit defeat. "I have so much to do today, Jude. I can't just stay home."
Reluctantly, Jude nodded, knowing from experience that you were fiercely independent and determined once you set your mind to something. "Okay, but promise me you'll take it easy," he said softly.
Hours later, you returned home earlier than expected, your face flushed and your eyes watery. You sank onto the couch with a defeated sigh, clutching a box of tissues.
"What." You sniffle, your eyebrows frowning.
"Nothing." Jude says with a glint of a smirk.
"Stop smiling." You respond
"I'm sorry, it's just i told you so."
Jude, seeing your exhausted state, moved closer and gently took the tissues from your hands. "Why don't you let me make you dinner tonight?" he suggested, his voice tinged with concern. "You've pushed yourself enough today."
You looked up at him with a stubborn glint in your eyes, still not fully willing to concede. "That actually sounds really nice," you admitted reluctantly, finally allowing yourself to relax.
Jude smiled warmly, relieved to see you starting to unwind. "I'll take care of everything. You just rest and recover," he said softly, knowing that even in your stubbornness, you trusted him to take care of you when you needed it most.
But now, he wasn't so sure. Ever since the World Cup he had begun to see a change in you. You were absent most days, granted he was in Madrid which didn't help, but even on days when you could have dinner together, your mind was always somewhere else.
He understood the pressure of being the world champions, the demands to make public appearances, but sometimes he wished that you hadn't won. Not because you didn't deserve it, but because it was taking a huge toll on you and there was very little he could do about it.
***********
Leah glanced over at you with a raised eyebrow as you took a breather during your training session at Arsenal's practice ground. You had been noticeably tense all morning, and Leah, her teammate and close friend, couldn't help but address the elephant in the room.
"Yeah, okay, but what's up with you two at the moment?" Leah asked bluntly, wiping sweat from her brow. "You keep picking at each other like cats in a sack."
You sighed, your frustration evident as you leaned against the goalpost. "It's just... we've been on edge lately. You know how Jude can be sometimes."
Leah nodded knowingly. "He's a good guy, but he can be a bit cheeky," she remarked, recalling a recent incident.
"Remember that comment he made last week? You were fuming."
You rolled her eyes, her irritation flaring again. "Yeah, and rightfully so. Sometimes he doesn't think before he speaks."
Leah gave you a sympathetic look. "Look, I get it. But you two have been solid for ages. Maybe it's just a rough patch.
You should talk it out."
You sighed heavily, running a hand through her sweaty hair.
"I know.. it's just been one thing after another. First the media frenzy, then family stuff, now this reality show nonsense he's pushing for. It's like we're not on the same page anymore."
Leah nodded in understanding. "Relationships take work, especially with all the craziness in your lives. But you guys are strong. Don't let a few bumps get in the way."
You nodded thoughtfully, grateful for Leah's perspective.
"You're right. I'll talk to him. Thanks, Leah."
Leah flashed you a reassuring smile. "Anytime. Now, let's finish this training strong. No distractions!"
With renewed determination, you and Leah resumed their training, focusing on their drills and pushing themselves to perform at their peak. The afternoon sun beat down on the training ground, casting long shadows as you ran through your routines.
As you practiced, you couldn't shake Leah's words from your mind. You knew Leah was right-you needed to address the tension with Jude before it escalated further but as much as you wanted to clear the air, doubts nagged at you.
Leah noticed your distracted demeanor and decided to lighten the mood. "Hey, Y/N, remember that game against Chelsea last season?" she asked with a grin.
You chuckled, grateful for the diversion. "Oh, don't remind me. That was a tough one."
"Yeah, but you scored that amazing goal in the last minute!" Leah exclaimed, mimicking the commentator's excitement.
"The look on their faces was priceless."
You laughed, the tension easing slightly. "Yeah, that was a good moment."
You continued your banter, reminiscing about past matches and sharing stories from your time on the pitch. Despite the weight of your conversation earlier, you found herself enjoying the camaraderie with Leah, grateful for her support.
You and Leah resumed their training drills at Arsenal's practice ground, your focus returning to the swift exchanges and precise footwork demanded on the pitch. The air was alive with the sound of coaches' instructions and the rhythmic thud of balls being kicked.
After a particularly intense sprint, you paused, a slight grimace crossing you face as she clutched her abdomen.
Leah, noticed this, her brow furrowing with worry. You had been training together for years, and Leah had noticed your occasional bouts of discomfort over the past few months, especially since the incident during the World Cup where you collapsed briefly.
Leah slowed her pace, coming alongside you. "Hey, Y/N," she began cautiously, "perhaps what I should be asking is, whats up with you lately?"
You sigh defeatedly, indicating to the pain in your stomach. "It's cramps. "They come and go, but they've been worse lately. It's stopping me from sleeping and making it hard to eat-"
Leah's expression softened with concern. "Since the World Cup?"
You nodded, avoiding Leah's gaze for a moment. "Yeah. It started then, but I didn't think much of it at first."
Leah frowned, her mind racing with possibilities. "Have you seen a doctor?"
You hesitated, her voice quieter now. "Not yet. l've been putting it off. I don't want it to be a big deal."
Leah shook her head gently. "Ah now i understand Jude's frustration recently. Y/N, your health is important. You can't keep ignoring this."
You sighed again, your frustration evident. "I know, I know. I just... I don't want it to affect my game, you know? And with everything else going on..."
Leah nodded sympathetically. "I get it. But you can't keep pushing yourself like this. Promise me you'll see someone soon?"
You met Leah's gaze, her resolve firming. "Yeah. I promise."
********
You stood in front of the mirror, smoothing down the fabric of your emerald green dress. The soft candlelight flickered around you, casting a warm glow in Jude's apartment. You had gone the extra mile tonight, not just with your appearance but also in preparing a special meal for Jude. As you heard the door open, you turned to see Jude entering the room.
"You look stunning," Jude said softly, a brief smile appearing on his face as he closed the door behind him.
"Thank you," you replied with a shy smile, feeling a mix of nerves and anticipation. "I thought we could use a quiet evening together. No cameras, no distractions just us!"
Jude nodded, his eyes lingering on you appreciatively. "It's perfect," he murmured, though his mind was still clouded with the tension between you.
You sat down to dinner, the delicious aroma filling the room as you exchanged polite conversation about work and football. Jude was keen to lighten the mood, steering the conversation towards a recent match.
"So, what did you think of our performance against Barcelona?" Jude asked, taking a sip of wine.
You smiled, grateful for the change in topic. "I thought you guys played brilliantly in the second half. That goal you scored was top-notch."
Jude grinned, a hint of pride in his voice. "Thanks. It was a tough match, but we pulled through."
As you continued discussing tactics and upcoming fixtures, Jude noticed how you winced slightly every now and then, how you seemed to sit more rigidly than usual.
"You seem a bit off tonight," Jude remarked gently, reaching across the table to take your hand. "Is everything okay?"
You hesitated, your gaze flickering away for a moment.
"Yeah, just tired from the week, I guess," you replied, forcing a smile.
Jude searched your eyes, sensing there was more you weren't saying. "You know you can talk to me, right?" he said softly. "I'm here for you."
You nodded, grateful for his understanding, but unable to voice your worries just yet. The conversation shifted back to lighter topics, but the tension lingered between you.
After you finished your meal, Jude cleared the dishes while you tidied up the table. You could feel the pain in your abdomen intensifying, a relentless throb that seemed to squeeze your insides like a vice. You tried to push through it, not wanting to spoil the evening.
Jude glanced over at you, concern etched on his face.
"Damn it, y/n" Jude's voice echoed through the kitchen, frustration and worry pouring out in a torrent. "How can we be together if you won't let me in? Do you even trust me?"
You froze, your heart sinking at the raw honesty in his words.
You knew he was right, knew you had been keeping him at arm's length out of fear and stubbornness.
"I made dinner tonight to try to change this, but we keep arguing," you retorted, your voice tinged with frustration and hurt.
"You keep doing this to yourself, y/n!" Jude's voice cracked with emotion, his frustration palpable. "Pushing yourself until you can't anymore. Why won't you let me help you?"
You looked up at him through tear-filled eyes, your face contorted with pain. "I'm sorry," you managed to say, your voice barely above a whisper. "I didn't want to ruin tonight. I just wanted one night... ONE night where it wasn't about how I was feeling. I wanted to celebrate you-."
Jude takes a sigh, loading a couple of dishes into the dishwasher before turning back over to you. "And this is surely the best way to celebrate me- being quiet and constantly wincing in pain-."
"No- !" You try to finish your sentence before the pain pulls you down, you stabilise yourself on the edge of the table, dropping a fork on the ground. A annoyed sigh leaves your body, as you attempt to pick up the fork. Jude glances over, reminding himself, that despite how stupid you could be, he still cared about you.
Jude turned around at the sound of your stifled sob, his annoyance quickly giving way to concern as he saw you doubled over in agony. Without a word, he crossed the kitchen in quick strides, his heart pounding with worry.
As he glances over, he see's your weak body, attempting to keep you from falling down. Jude's expression softened, guilt washing over him as he realised how much you had been hiding from him. As he saw your body give way, he closed the distance between you, gently taking your arm to support you.
"Hospital. Now," Jude said firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument.
You nodded weakly, clutching his hand tightly as you hurried out the door, the weight of your unspoken fears finally giving way to a shared resolve to confront whatever lay ahead.
#fanfiction#jude bellingham#leah williamson#womens world cup#england football#englandwomensfootball#womens football#football fanfic#jude bellingham x reader#jude bellingham x you#judebellingham x footballreader#jude bellingham fanfic#bellingham x reader#bellingham#footballereader#footballer x reader#football imagine
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Thank you for sending in all the stories, here you can find the collection! Some of these are one-shots, some are longer stories, just click your way through them and also check out their other fics!
A Court of Vice and Victors
by @wishcamper Acosf rewrite where Nesta actually gets help and she and Cassian have a healthier dynamic, plus an Illyrian murder mystery
Pages Turned
by @climbthemountain2020 A character study on Nesta Archeron, the hardships she's faced through her life, and how they've shaped her as a person.
Could You Love Me While I Hate Myself
by @witch-and-her-witcher Humans have just been freed from servitude to the fae after years at war on Prythian and times are desperate for Nesta Archeron. With Feyre MIA and Elain a shell of herself, her options are becoming increasingly limited. When one of the young fae warriors, Cassian, who has carved a name for himself on the battlefield proposes to her after recognizing a mating bond between them, Nesta doesn't see any choice but to agree to take him as her husband and move herself and her sister to his home Court and the wilds of Illyria. War brings them together, a bond binds them - but is that enough for two broken people to find love with each other?
Firm and Fragrant Still the Brambleberries
by @foundress0fnothing When Nesta became a nurse at the start of the war, she could not have predicted a patient as challenging as Lieutenant Cassian Davies, nor he a nurse as captivating as her. As the same war that brought them together threatens to tear them apart, Nesta and Cassian must navigate the complexities of love and duty to find the way back to each other. A WWI historical AU.
Wreck My Plans, That's My Man
by @c-e-d-dreamer Drummer for the Bat Boys, Cassian has a large following, but sometimes Nesta doesn't appreciate fangirls calling themselves "Cassian's future wife."
It Looks As Though You're Letting Go
by @Darkcat18 (on ao3) Everyone is born with an arrow on the back of their hand which points to their soulmate at midnight on their eighteenth birthday. After her parents' disastrous marriage and her father's subsequent depression following the death of her mother, Nesta realized a soulmate is nothing more than guaranteed heartache and ruination. On the eve of her eighteenth birthday, she packs up her car and leaves her family and life behind forever. What she doesn't count on, however, is having a soulmate like Cassian, who may be the one to prove to her that a soulmate is what she needs.
I Guess It's Half Timing (And The Other Half's Luck)
by @moodymelanist Nesta and Cassian have a steamy one-night stand while out celebrating St. Patrick’s Day, but their lives are changed forever once Nesta realizes her period is late. Follow along as Nesta and Cassian navigate preparing to become parents, balancing their other life stresses, and figuring out their feelings for one another!
Amidst the Madness
by @This_Immortal_Hope (on ao3) Love and war have always followed the same rules: Quick to ignite, slow to extinguish. There aren't many things Cassian has dared to openly want in his 500 years of existence. Not even the position he currently occupies as Lord of Windahaven (far too lofty a spot for nothing more than a well-blodded bastard, if you ask the other Illyrian Lords), but from the second Nesta Archeron stepped foot in his camp, the entire world ebbed into a single truth. She is his. He is hers. Everything else - the war he is meant to lead, the people relying on him, the legacy he should be fighting to protect, cease to exist the second his eyes are caught in roiling silver flames. There is pain in this female, his female. And retribution will be exacted. Rhysand has his war, and now so does Cassian. Whether the two align ... only Nesta can give that order.
Sweetest Con
by @separatist-apologist Nesta Archeron has been trapped in witness protection for the past five years, hiding a secret no one can ever learn. All she has to do is wait out the criminals back home determined to punish her and her sisters for a lie they told years before. She can handle anything- even the new agent sent to keep her safe.
The Whole Truth
by @TheTeaQueen (on ao3) A beautifully heartbreaking story about what if Papa Archeron used/sold Nesta back in their village, and the IC learning this truth. It features Rhys and Nesta sibling bonding over their respective SA traumas. And Cassian helping Nesta to heal and feel comfortable with touch again
The Nesta Variation
by @persegrace (on ao3) A modern AU where Cassian is a military vet and Nesta is a former ballet dancer. They're both dealing with trauma, and meet in AA.
Ultima Ex Nobis
by @fieldofdaisiies Six years into a global pandemic which was caused by a mass fungal infection that turns hosts into zombie-like creatures and makes the whole of Prythian collapse, the former army general Cassian Cadell is tasked with one very special mission – escorting Nesta Archeron, one of the few immune survivors, across a post-apocalyptic Prythian to a group of people of the name L. Their identity is unknown but they can make an antidote.
you make my motor run
by @wilde-knight When Nesta and Cassian are set up on a blind date, neither of them can imagine their families feeling whole again. But with sparks flying between them, will they finally be able to imagine the road ahead?
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aeterna nostalgia
chapter one: as it was
Pairing: Ascended Astarion x Vampire Bride Tav
🩸Full Chapter List (Coming Soon) 🩸BG3 Fic Masterlist
Series Summary:
Astarion’s carefully crafted empire is thrown into upheaval when his bride falls victim to a modify memory spell. Without any memory of her lover or her own vampirism, his dark consort is a threat to both herself and her sire.
Astarion must win back her trust and affections, all while hunting down whoever sought to break the most powerful bond in Faerûn.
Chapter CW: Blood kink, masturbation, minor character death, Astarion being racist/hateful towards gnomes
A/N: This fic incorporates vampire bride lore and headcanons. Special thanks for the wonderful @locallegume for beta reading.
Click here if you prefer to read on AO3
“Sometimes, however, the emotion may be close to what mortals classify as love. The happiness of the vampire becomes tied up with the prospective bride, and its well-being depends on hers. In these cases, the vampire might actually believe it is bestowing a gift when it turns the mortal into its bride - the gift of freedom from aging and death.”
-Van Richten’s Guide to Vampires
Come to me.
Astarion allows their connection to slacken. With each step she takes nearer to him, springy anticipation pulses through their bond. It’s not unlike the wag of a tail.
And the slow dawn of his smile behind the fan of his fingers isn’t so different from the sun peering between the clouds. The sight of his most precious pet stokes that same delectable warmth inside of him.
“My sweet sunlight,” he calls to her, “how was your trance?”
His voice echoes off the vaulted ceiling of the throne room. There’s enough space in the chamber to hold dozens, but there’s only seating for two. The lavish chair at Astarion’s left is vacant as it always is. And this morning, only one needy patriar comes to the Crimson Palace to pay its lord homage. Lord Ventris is stout for a human, with a face lined in age and a dark, well-manicured beard. His attention follows Astarion’s eyeline as the gilded doors at the head of the hall groan apart.
Finer company comes his way, following the red runner that crosses the checkerboard marble. Naomi’s shift sways just past her knees. The silk robe draped over her shoulders hardly offers any modesty; she didn’t bother to cinch it.
“I was well,” she answers primly, “until I woke without you.”
Astarion adores her in that shade of mauve. It wakes the faint trace of pink in her cheeks, the flush that only blooms after she’s fed. There’s hardly any hint of it now. Astarion’s smile fades.
Lord Ventris balks, scandalized by the sight of those lithe, lilac legs striding past him. “My lady!”
Naomi matches Astarion’s unflinching stare, a slight lift at the corner of her mouth. His heart skips to the soft sound of her bare feet climbing the dais.
“It’s nearly midday,” Ventris prattles on, “surely some shoes, at least slippers--”
“Are you worried I might step on something sharp?” Her voice is steel as she stops, her cheek only halfway turned.
“I-I’m merely expressing benign concern. Not many drow hold title here, so perhaps you’re uneducated on the typical decorum befitting your husband’s house. But--”
“You shouldn’t worry so much. This is my home. I know exactly where all the sharp things are.”
Astarion pats his thigh expectantly. Like a sword to a sheath, Naomi slides into her customary place in his lap. He lets out a long, satisfied sigh while she settles against him. Her smile curves against his collar.
To Ventris, he snaps, “Our house is the reason why you still have one. And I understand it’s a further favor you came here to ask. Do get on with it.”
“I-- “ he stammers, “of course, Lord Ancunín. As I was saying, you’ve invested greatly in the city’s revival, in the restoration of so many of our most prized institutions. I know you recognize the value of legacy, and its role in the renewed prosperity of the Gate. The preservation of its eldest, most distinguished lineages…”
Ventris speaks as he’s commanded, but Astarion doesn’t deem to listen. His head dips to the fine edge of Naomi’s ear, nosing past a stray wave of ivory hair hanging free of her bun. His arm winds her waist, clutching her close.
“Are you well now, darling? Now that I’ve remedied my wrongs?”
Naomi hums contentedly, eyes shut, head tucked into the crook of his neck. And yet, he’s acutely aware of the disquiet lurking at the fringes of her happiness, circling their safe haven like a mangy dog seeking scraps.
“I think not,” Astarion murmurs darkly. “You're hungry, aren’t you, sweet thing?” His fingers stroke beneath her chin and guide her gaze to his.
Even as the ascendant, he can’t curtail her hunger entirely. He can only see to it that she never feels it for more than a moment.
“Only as much as you allow me to be,” she says, batting her eyes open again. There’s a glimmer of laughter in them, among his favorite shade of cherry. He expected her eyes to change color when she turned, but he hadn’t expected she’d keep a tinge of her former violet. A lovely surprise.
You’re full of surprises, he’d told her once, when they were only just beginning. Aren’t you?
Astarion had known he was making a bride, and not simply a spawn, the night she knelt for him. He’d known they’d be bound for eternity. Aeterna Amantes. As it should be. As it was always meant to be.
As it will be. Forever.
But how was he to know how heady her delight would feel, when it fluttered like a hummingbird from her mind to his? How intoxicating her submission would taste, when he could witness the very moment her thoughts bent for him, feel her mind yield before her body gave way exactly the way he wanted?
Without compulsion. Without question. Without barriers. With a bond like theirs, nothing between them is secret and all of it is sacred.
Perhaps accounts of other such unions exist. But there’s never been a vampire ascendant before; there’s never been an ascendant bride, either. None of the crusted scrolls he inherited from Cazador could’ve warned him how utterly offensive her slightest discomfort would come to feel.
That he’d feel it exactly as his own discomfort.
“How could I sit idle while my precious treasure starves?” He implores her with a blooming pout. “What manner of husband would I be, hm?”
Ventris, on the other hand, seems to have forgotten his manners entirely. He dares a step towards the dais, volume rising with the red in his cheeks.
“...and so I ask you, Lord Ancunín, what manner of philanthropist makes donations to some Sharran sanctuary? Hasn’t this city seen enough fanatics? They say those cultists have a new compound, thanks to you! And the Upper City has a new, so-called theater in your so-called lady’s name! Well, sir, I see no lady here! And that should tell you what opinion I have of that den of debauchery she’s opened!”
Astarion arches a brow. Ventris’ lower lip quivers as he babbles on.
“And you build all of this while my own house remains half-ruined! It was a proud estate before that business with the brain. Curious how all of my neighbors managed to escape the worst of the debris. Curious how they’ve already rebuilt what was broken!”
Naomi raises her head, surveying Ventris lazily. Astarion hears her effortlessly, as if the words were said aloud. Were you going to kill him with or without me?
Astarion’s answer is honest, if not innocent at all. You’d be fed either way. It’s simply a happy accident.
“It’s quite simple, Ventris,” Astarion shrugs. “You’re not necessary. Your daughter will marry that sweetheart of hers that you hate so much, what’s remaining of your pride will be inherited by their heirs, and the world will be better for it. Without you and those gaudy pillars in the way of what should be a pretty sea view from the Upper City. A pity the mindflayers didn’t finish leveling your estate. Though, I suppose they made the job easier.”
“How dare you!” Ventris fumes, spittle flecking his beard. “I’ll have your name dragged through the streets! The city will know you spent coin on the Sharrans-- and that gods forsaken whorehouse--”
“You won’t. Besides, Grand Duke Ravengard already knows. He’ll suppress any slander because he knows every other patriar is in my pocket. After all, their own coffers are so pitifully empty these days. That’s why you’re here, Ventris. To beg.”
Ventris shrivels into his ill-fitted suit coat. Astarion’s free hand curls around the armrest of his throne.
“So I’ll say it a second time,” Astarion sneers, “There won’t be a third. Get on with it.”
“I--” Ventis stammers, cheeks purpled with indignation. “You won’t get away with--”
Naomi snaps her fingers. Violet light sparks between them. “On your knees.”
It’s not the kind of compulsion Astarion can wield, but a spell that works in the same vein. Ventris drops with a shrill cry, kneecaps crunching against the hard stone.
Naomi slinks from his lap. Astarion catches her hand as she goes, brushing a kiss to her knuckles. The faint, lingering thrum of her magic tingles pleasantly against his lips.
She stalks forward, predatory. As her hands slip from his, her robe slips from her shoulders, pooling like spilled wine at her heels. Ventris quivers, a little leaf buffeted by the wind, but he can’t flee. And he still can’t help himself from staring, ogling at what isn’t his.
Astarion’s grip on the armrest tightens to a chokehold.
Sunlight slices the room in brilliant rays, as righteous as any flaming sword. And in it, Naomi is scintillating. The sheer fabric of her shift seems more mist than material. His eyes burn across her supple shape, taking in the ripple through her breasts with every step, and the tease of her nipples, pushing pert against her nightgown.
Astarion wets his lips, letting a fang tug at the tender flesh. Anticipation thrums through him again, only now, it’s hot. Thick. Permeating.
His grip on the armest eases as he leans back in the chair.
Ventris’ mouth hangs open, a great gaping maw for such a middling, waste of a man. His wide eyes bore into the last sight he’ll see. And what a sight she is. Naomi tilts her head one way, then the other, peering down at her meal like a bird choosing a worm.
She’s careful, picking her vein. She’s not, when she claws a hand into his hair, lifts him from the floor by a fist of it, and rips into his throat.
Because she wants it to hurt.
Screams slap wet against the palace walls. Astarion’s head falls back in his chair, his eyes slitted. The ceiling swims in a blur above him. He can feel the blood flooding warm in Naomi’s mouth, the spray of it coating the back of her throat. The thickness of it, swelling stiff within his trousers.
He parts his buttons hastily, stroking his hardened length, scarcely feeling his own touch. It’s her tongue he feels instead. Surrounding him. Sucking so greedily. Taking, just as he taught her to.
Her cheeks hollow as she pulls for more, more. And of course, more is what she gets. Blood leaks sticky sweet down her chin. Astarion’s cock throbs with her every moan.
It's effortless now, to pretend it's her mouth around his girth and not his own hand. He doesn't even have to picture it. She lets him feel every pleasure that ever paints her pretty lips. Like they were his own.
She is his own. Naomi and all her tenderness belong to him. Every pleasure she takes, Astarion takes, too. And while she’s taking her fill, she feels the familiar fit of his cock in her mouth, pouring fresh heat into the body he made perfect forever. Into the woman he’s unmade an untold number of times.
His hips buck into empty air. A groan splits through his teeth. Naomi peels from her meal with a slick pop of lips, gasping with the raw edge of a growl. Astarion’s release spurts warm across his fingers. He slouches limp and boneless in his seat, relishing in the feel of her soaked within and without. Just as she should be.
He blinks blearily, chasing the breath he takes for pleasure and not for purpose. Slowly, the room steadies. He sits up, wincing as he tucks his sated, sensitive cock back into his trousers.
Naomi eases back, crouched over the corpse that was Ventris. Her chest heaves. She pants in tandem with Astarion. Not because she has to; her body echoes his own, reeling from the feel of his ascended heart thudding within his ribs.
When they’ve both come to their senses, Astarion comes to her.
“What memory kept you tranced so late, dear?” His voice is soft, even as he scolds. What could ever be sweeter than meeting again in the flesh?
“I missed you, too.”
Astarion raises his hand lazily, and she leans forward, still kneeling. One by one, his fingers slip between her plush lips, her tongue wicking away the spend still left on them. When they’re clean, he grips her chin and turns it aside so he can see the marks on her neck that made her his evermore.
Blood blooms in stains near the neckline of her shift. It reminds him of the flowers found in their courtyard garden. His eyes drip with the leak of her leftovers, roaming over her the fresh flush waking in her skin. What a lovely, murderous, and reverent thing she is. Pride flares like a lively hearth beneath his ribs, fed by the warmth billowing from her head into his.
She’s hungry no longer. And happy. An easy smile lifts his lips.
“Well?” He prompts, expectant.
“I was remembering our wedding hunt,” she answers dreamily, eyes-half lidded.
Astarion’s smirk widens, his fangs peering out. What a delicious memory to sink into. Savory enough to trance the day away.
There was the night they wed truly. After taking her fill of him, Naomi knelt, and Astarion had his fill of her. He bit her thrice, drained her dry, and bound her as his bride for all of time to follow. The papers that came later put her surname on record as Ancunín. But they didn’t make her his; she belonged to him already.
There was the party. Mostly, they hosted it for the patriars they intended to weave into their web of influence. They spared no expense for the lavish affair. He could think of no finer way to spend Cazador’s fortune than on his and his darling’s debut into Baldurian high society.
And then, there was the hunt.
Wordlessly, it slips into his mind from hers: not the extravagant soiree, but the party of unfortunate souls that stumbled into the palace drunk that very eve. They later woke to white, opalescent stone walls. Pearly bricks laid where Astarion had once shrieked and bled uncounted times beneath Godey’s blades.
But that night, not a speck of blood or dirt stained the corridors to the old kennels. Astarion still hasn’t settled on the chambers’ future use, but he rather likes them better this way, as a polished blank slate. The sheen is crisp enough, he can see his clear reflection every time he stalks those halls.
He sees his own stunning visage again in the play of Naomi’s memories. He sees the seven huddled, sniveling figures that awaited them there, and feels their spines shudder again. His mouth waters at the mere recollection of it.
“The last of you alive will live forever,” he told them cheerfully, before cutting them free of their bonds. “Run along now! Go on!”
And off they scampered, scrabbling over each other in their desperation to reach a destination forever out of reach. There’d be no escape. Not a living one, anyway.
Astarion had turned to his bride. So beautiful, sheathed in an ivory gown with the finest of shimmers, her long white hair plaited back, a sheer veil draped over it. A teardrop train of lace fanned from the flared edge of her skirts, and her eyes glowed with the promise of violence.
He lifted Naomi’s chin in a delicate grip. “Now, feast, my sweet.”
The memory smears, vivid red. Red, like the dripping trails down the walls. Red, like color she stained his pristine coat when their lips collided, a hungry mess of blood and adoration. Red, like the streaks across her wedding gown as Astarion tore through it. He swore he saw handprints at her skirts, in the brief blur before he ripped her free of them. Perhaps her victims gripped them for mercy.
Astarion’s grip on her hips was anything but merciful. Binding, perhaps. And liberating, all the same.
It was hours later, his body weak with bliss, Naomi bare and drifting towards trance in his arms, that he lifted her from his throne and brought them both to bed.
Presently, she muses, “It took me forever to find that fucking Harper. Could’ve been her that you made spawn instead of Zylar.”
Astarion smirks. Naomi drained all but one of their late-night guests that evening. Their final victim was a promising twenty-something human named Zylar with no surname, no family, and nothing but a fervent dedication to his duties as a Flaming Fist. Astarion took that dedication for his own. Now, Zylar will be young forever, live out all his small dreams of climbing the Fists’ ranks, and, most importantly, serve the interests of the Ancuníns above all else.
When Zylar rose as Astarion’s second spawn, gaping in horror at the blood-smeared walls that surrounded him, Astarion told him, “Clean it up. With your mouth, if it pleases you.”
Within the hour, the old kennels were spotless once more.
Now, he snaps his fingers at the cloaked shadow lurking at the edge of the audience hall. At once, Zylar peels from the perimeter, prowling towards the corpse at the heart of the room. There’s barely blood on the tiles at all, but Astarion’s sure there won’t be a speck of it left by the time they return here.
“Your lessers will see to the scraps, my dear,” he says, offering Naomi his arm. She takes it, rising to his side. “I have something to show you. A present.”
The happy hum in her head is a knowing one. They enter the ballroom, where the white marble tile swirls with gold, and a long, windowed wall overlooks the palace gardens. There waits her latest gift, shining radiant in the sunlight. Her smile is a fitting match for it.
“It’s beautiful,” she breathes.
They’ve had three such marvels call this ballroom home in just as many years. She’s said the same of the other two as well. He’s inclined to agree. The grand piano shimmers, resplendent. All but the keys and its insides are coated in gold leaf. The lid is propped, shedding light on landscape painted on its underside: Baldur’s Gate, by view of the sea, vivid in the setting sun.
Astarion allows her to part from his arm and rush to the piano, as if it’s a lover she’s running towards, and not away from. His arm sways, empty at his side, in the wake of her momentum. The delicate stroke of her fingers down the keys plays the most delectable shiver down his own spine. A long, stuttering sigh leaves his lips.
Strange that, only three short years ago, she didn’t know what to do with the first piano he gifted her. He remembers, crystal clear, the timid trepidation that crept across her face, the hesitancy with which she reached and just barely brushed the keys.
“Little love,” he’d purred in her ear, “whatever could be the matter?”
“I-I don’t know how to play it,” she’d confessed, sheepishly retracting her fingers. He’d seen those same nimble hands curl the neck of a fiddle and flit effortlessly across a flute at least a hundred times over.
Astarion only grinned, letting his teeth graze the slant of her ear. “You’ll learn it. We’ve an eternity now, darling. You can take as much time as you wish and never run out of it.”
He never tires of taking his time with her. Taking her here, in the ballroom, even at the expense of their most expensive furnishings. No, this one won’t last any longer than the others, he decides as she saddles over the cushioned bench, her hands poised. He wets his lips, mulling over at least a dozen ways to put an arch in her back as she straightens tall.
But, in the interest of not breaking her gift so soon after it's been given…
He turns, like the perfect vision of restraint he is, and says, “Why don’t you play me something as pretty as you are?”
The instrument was made for her, and Naomi plays it as if it’s what she was always meant to do. What pours from the piano melts across his ears and leaves a saccharine taste on his tongue. It carries the tang of her magic with it, as all her music does. Tantalizing. Mesmerizing. Numbing, in its own way. Astarion could spend hours soaking in it. He’s spent so many mornings this way, warmed by the sun, staring out over the city he and his consort share, complicit with her in shared contentment.
Siren, some call her in whispers. They’re right to whisper. Astarion’s seen Naomi kill with one.
He stiffens to the sound of a throat clearing. It’s a cutting, and unwelcome intrusion. Claude, the rancid little gnome who tuts at him so expectantly, is eternally an intrusion.
It’s the carrot of vampirism Claude chases. It’s easy enough to dangle it, just out of reach. He served Cazador with a religious fervor. He serves Astarion with even more zeal. He’s mortal, still, and Astarion can’t think of a single good reason to turn a servant already so eagerly playing their role. The thought alone makes his stomach roil.
“My Lord,” the nasally wretch says, “they’re waiting for you in your office.”
Astarion scowls. For all the patriars they’ve killed, there’s still a bumper crop of them crowding into his office every other week. Wanting the favor of Baldur’s Gate’s best-loved benefactor. Unknowingly begging at the heels of the one and only Vampire Ascendant.
Such is the ignorant bliss of the cattle. He’s more than they know. But they know well enough to beg while they still can.
What they do know is that he’s a hero. A savior of the city. The holder of its purse strings, while his heroine lover pulls the strings of the city’s heart. All in service to the web of power and influence that will see him named Grand Duke by summer’s end.
“Shall I tell them you’ll reschedule?” Claude asks.
“No,” he relents with an exasperated groan. “You shall not.”
Naomi plays on as he passes, but he feels a tug in the back of his mind. A flicker of a familiar feeling: her hand leaving his, and his arm left loose with an empty grasp.
I won’t be but an hour, my sweet. And then, I think, it’s back to bed with you. I think you might never leave it.
Her answer floats about his mind like a dandelion buffeted by the wind. I think I died happy.
Happy, Astarion muses, already half a palace away from her. He pauses by the mirror in the corridor, adjusting his high collar before he makes for his office door and the waiting patriars. As you should be.
Astarion drums the richly polished oak with restless fingers, his chin situated in his other palm. From his seat at the table’s head, he has a prime view of today’s entertainment: a pair of bickering magistrates. They hold the table’s attention as they trade barbs, too ablaze in their own irritations to notice their host’s growing disinterest.
Do try to pay attention, dear, Naomi snickers in his head. We paid a hefty sum to get this little feud off the ground, after all.
Ostensibly, Lady Ancunín isn't interested in politics. Such manners bore her, and would detract from her management of the city’s finest theater. In reality, it's as if his little love never left his lap at all. She should be in this chair. He’s the one who's bored.
Naomi’s left the piano now, though it plays on without her. Her steps patter in the back of his mind as she takes to the footpath through their gardens, her music still wafting pleasantly with the scent of the roses. With their minds linked, she listens more closely to his meeting than he can bear to.
Astarion’s gaze drifts to the open windows, to the bustling Gate, throbbing with life. Ripe for the taking, all due to his careful tending. A breeze ruffles the curtains, carrying the salt of the sea with it.
It used to thrill him, to sit here, steeple his hands, and watch his empire be built brick by unwitting brick. He’s amassed enough influence to carry a current, even while sitting entirely still. There’s an inevitability to it all now that should please him. Instead, he feels the restless urge to pluck those bricks from the pile and dash all the heads in this room with them. To hear fresh screams instead of circular whining. But instead, he must endure their peevish--
Silence.
Abruptly, Astarion stiffens. The patriars prattle on unbothered, but beneath their noise, a stagnant quiet furls through his halls like a fast-moving fog, setting his hairs on end. Across the palace, the piano ceases playing. It’s not a remarkable change on its own; the magic expires after some time without Naomi’s touch.
That familiar, slipping sensation comes again: the feel of Naomi’s palm sliding from his and leaving it empty. His head feels empty as an echoing, vacant cathedral, only home to his own thoughts. His own mind.
Darling? The word reverberates inside his skull, making it no farther than it would if he said it aloud in this room without her. His nails claw the table’s edge.
Naomi? Answer me. He calls again, anger flaring, but it feels futile. Like banging his fists against stone.
Footsteps race down the corridor. His head turns for the door before the knob even moves. By the time it opens, he’s already standing. Every head in the room turns to Claude stammering frantically in the doorway.
“M-My lord, a visitor--”
Astarion grips his collar, storming from the room with the little wretch in tow.
“Lord Ancunín,” an old crone of a tiefling barks from the other end of the table, “what is the meaning of--”
Astarion slams the door on her inane protest, not even pausing to savor the flinch that passes through his captive audience.
“Where is your mistress?” Astarion growls.
“The throne room,” Calude answers meekly. “W-we think.”
“You think?!” Astarion releases his grip on Claude’s shirt, wiping his hand on the leg of his pants.
He doesn’t wait for Claude to elaborate. Astarion sheds his form and flies. Moments later, he materializes again before the great shut doors to his audience hall. A blue veil of magic simmers over them.
With a boiling vitriol, he rounds on the other elf kneeled near the doors. Strictly speaking, Emilia is his favorite of his lesser spawn. It isn’t the highest of praises; her only competition is Zylar, and her knack for magic makes her useful. And yet, he feels a dawning hatred for her as she crouches there, glowing hands outstretched in vain.
“What in the hells is this?” He shouts, the sound bounding like fitful thunder.
“A magical barrier, my Lord,” Emilia says, strained. “It’s elaborate, but I’ll have it down shortly.”
“Who cast this? Who’s in there with her?”
“We received a visitor at the front door. He said the gatekeep allowed him entry, that he was a scholar from Waterdeep here to inform you of something of great import. He didn’t give a name. We intended to turn him away, but Claude went to Lady Naomi to inform her, and the lady said she would see him in your absence. She awaited him here, but all the doors closed when he entered, and the barriers appeared at once.”
Astarion grits his teeth. “And the guards at the gate simply let him pass?”
“It seems so.”
How could that be?! Astarion snarls, his fist curling with flame. He hurls it at the barrier, but the firebolt only melts harmlessly against its surface, dissipating into useless smoke.
His bond with his bride can be turned like a faucet on either end, but neither of them can stem the drip of it entirely. Naomi would never wish for such separation. But even if she had, she could never hide from him fully.
And yet, he hadn’t even an inkling of this stranger’s arrival. The last he felt her, she’d been in the gardens raking her fingers through thorns, savoring the sting of the cuts, and thinking of his fangs.
“I believe Zylar is in there as well, my Lord.”
Astarion tenses, thoughts racing. Zylar never stays anywhere alone with Naomi if he can help it. Ever since the wedding hunt, he’s stayed terrified of her.
His mind blanks abruptly. The barrier dissipates, flecks of magic raining down from the doorway like sleet. The doors part. Through the narrow split, he sees Naomi as her knees buckle against the marble.
A cloaked figure looms over her, one hand outstretched, the other clutching a fluttering scroll. Red magic twists just above Naomi’s forehead, coiling on itself like a knotted vine. Astarion surges towards them.
Ascension made him swifter than anything he’s yet to encounter. Sharper. Stronger. But now that he’s near enough to see the spell reflecting in Naomi’s irises, near enough to see them washed in fear, his bones feel leaden. Slow.
Weak.
The spell flares into a blinding, burning orb. Bloody light scorches the room. Astarion feels the heat of it spear through his temples. Carving, like the tadpole used to. Cutting. His lips split around the pain, but it’s Naomi’s scream that pierces his ears.
The quiet that comes after lays against the room like a knife to a throat.
Naomi wavers where she kneels. Astarion skids across the floor, catching her before she can collapse. The light vanishes as quickly as it came, leaving the cloaked mage crumpled in a limp heap.
“Master!” Emilia gasps. “Master wait-- she might--”
“Shh,” Astarion coos, caressing a hand through Naomi’s hair and down her cheek. Blood leaks from the corners of her fluttering eyes, drying in dark trails. The magic burns a ruby outline around her body before it sinks beneath her skin.
“I’m here,” he rasps, pleading. “Come to me, darling. Come back to me.”
He holds a taut breath as her eyes open wider. Naomi blinks dazedly up at him, lips trembling, face glazed in confusion. Her gaze settles to his and sharpens.
“W-who are you?”
Thank you so much for reading! It would mean the world to me if you let me know you did in box at the end here. It's scary and exciting and invigorating to share a new story!
And HUGE thank you to so many Tumblr moots and discord friends who have supported me along the way in drafting this one. 💜
#the fic otherwise known as modify memory#astarion#ascended astarion#tavstarion#dark consort#astarion ancunin#lord astarion#vampire lord astarion#bg3#naomi tavriel#aeterna nostalgia#my writing
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Angels May Escape The Flames But Witches Never Do- Crowley X reader
A/N- Aziraphale X Crowley X Reader if you squint. This is kind of the same reader/witch as one of my other Crowley one-shot but they both can be read by themselves. If you want to read more with the witch reader click here or my masterlist
Pronouns- She/Her
Hurt/Comfort
TW- Fire, Emetophobia, Concussion
Word Count- 1,232
Summary- The reader gets stuck in the bookshop when Sergeant Shadwell sets fire to it.
I was in the back of the bookshop organizing the shelves because the shop was a mess, which is understandable since we are literally entering armageddon.
I heard Aziraphale shout uncharacteristically loud "You stupid Man!"
I peeked around the shelf to see what the problem was when I saw a blue light followed by Aziraphale screaming the F-bomb if the situation wasn't so dire I think I would have found myself dying of laughter.
I see Aziraphale vanish into the light and the man looks as shocked as I do. He shouts, "Hello" then turns for the door. I ran after him "What have you done!"
"I just saved you from a nasty witch," he smiles proudly.
I scowl deeply at him, "Aziraphale was no witch! I think you also may need to check your prejudice. We are no longer living in the era of witch trials, burnings, and hangings."
He gasps, "I should have known witches always travel in covens. You are one of them!"
I should have known to not mess with a so-called witch-hunter considering many of my ancestor's pasts but I was filled with rage over what happened to Aziraphale. So I venomously spit out " What if I am a witch? What are you going to do about it!" I expected some witty comeback or some exorcism but he shocked me when he ran full force into me knocking me to the ground.
I hit my head so hard off the wood flooring my ears were ringing and I felt the air knocked out of my lungs. There was a crash behind me and he seemed to smile at the result. "Now you will go out in true witch fashion." He shouted while slamming the door behind him.
The loud slam of the door left my head ringing even louder. I tried to sit up but the ringing in my head became so loud I lurched to the side and vomited. I reluctantly had to lay back down because it seemed moving was not an option. It started to feel very hot and I wasn't sure if it was the fact that I just vomited my guts out or the concussion I so obviously had received. I moved my eyes to the side to see the unfortunate cause of the heat. It was a fire growing rapidly I would do anything to save the books, to save Aziraphale's legacy but I was becoming increasingly tired and my eyes fluttered closed.
I keep going in and out of consciousness as the fire gets hotter and hotter. My last concussion definitely did not take this long to wake up from but that one was not during a rapidly growing fire. There was no way I was getting out of this it was getting progressively harder to breathe and I could not use any spells in this state not that any of my ingredients were going to survive this mess. Maybe all witches were meant to die like this burning in the great flames of their ancestors.
I hear the doors fly open with a bang which scares me for a moment because that is how the witch hunter left. Then I hear Crowley's voice Crowleys beautiful voice, "Do I look like I run a bookshop?"
He shouts Aziraphale's name and mine repeatedly. I want to shout that I am here but I can't manage to get a word out. He starts rambling about where the Heaven/Hell are you two for God's sake or whoever's sake.
I try so hard to get anything out but all I can manage are weak coughs and wheezes. Maybe it really is too late for me...
Water shoots through the glass window shattering it and landing Crowley on the floor and for once the fates have smiled upon me. He lies face to face with me.
He smiles brightly at me and cups my face his glasses are knocked off and I am glad that I can see his beautiful yellow eyes one more time.
"My sorceress I... I thought you were gone," He whispers and holds my face like I might slip away if he loses his grasp.
My voice is very hoarse and hardly understandable, "Your eyes," I struggle to breathe, "I wish I got to see them more." I wheeze once more.
Crowley had always told you how much he disdains his eyes but at that moment he kissed your head, "You will sweetheart! you will!"
He goes to pick me up and I swat at him and he looks truly hurt, "Forget me," I gasp. "you don't have time!" tears spill from my eyes "Take the book it is all that matters. Save the earth," I think I have used all my air at this point I cough and I can't stop. Wet ashes coat my hand as they are expelled from my lungs.
Crowley looks utterly enraged at this statement. "If you think earth means anything without you and Angel you are sorely mistaken," he seethes.
I have no energy left to fight I close my eyes as I feel myself lugged over his shoulder. His shouts make the ringing ever so louder as he shouts for a medic. I want to tease him as I always do when he has that worried face but this time he has a right to be worried.
I am laid down so gently on a stretcher that I know it is Crowley because he has always been afraid I'll break since I am not an immortal being like them. I hear Medics shout things like grade two concussion, rib contusions, and severe smoke inhalation. Even though my head is still extremely foggy and my throat burns like hell I lift my oxygen mask off to speak.
Crowley forcibly places it back on, "Shh, darling don't speak. Save your energy."
I roll my eyes and ignore him and breathe deeply sounding like a sixty-year-old smoker, "Crowley, Azi is still alive. He was put in this blue-white ray. Save the earth for Aziraphale and me so we have a place to come back to... to be together again."
Crowley smiles brightly, "He's alive!"
"The book everything is in the book, please tell me you have the book." I wheeze.
"Sir, please tell her she needs to keep the oxygen mask on!" The medic yells annoyingly loud.
Crowley forces the mask back on me, "You really think I was going to forget the book you would risk your life over sweetheart." He does a wink and a smirk that instantly makes my heart monitor embarrassingly spike.
The medic looks at me concerned and asks if I am having palpitations which makes me blush harder. Crowley smiles at this and I am sure he is cataloging this memory in his brain to bring up constantly.
Crowley kisses the top of your head, "I am off to save our angle and our home."
Crowley takes his shades off and looks at the medic who scrambles backward knocking over medical supplies. "If you do not make sure she comes out of this in top-notch health there will be hell to pay!" He sticks out his forked tongue and I am scared the medic may die of fear before he can even fix me up.
He gives me one last kiss on the forehead "Until we meet again darling."
#crowley good omens#good omens fanfiction#good omens fic#good omens fandom#good omens crowley#good omens imagine#good omens drabble#crowley x reader#aziraphale x reader#crowley imagine#aziraphale imagine#crowley x aziraphale#aziraphale
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The First Mazubas
NSFW 18+ Only
Contains ABDL Content
Note: This is a semi-sequel/prequel to a previous story I wrote. Click here if you'd like to read that one first!
It was Vīripār, the first night of Mazubas, when Natalie pulled out a Sievian book filled with old legends and myths to read to her former boyfriend turned baby, Brian.
Brian drank milk from his baby bottle, shifting his diapered butt into a comfortable sitting position on the ground as he prepared to hear his Mēmē read him a bedtime story. It was this day a year ago that Brian earned his position in diapers by filling his pants with cum in front of his topless girlfriend and it was a year that he had succumbed to filling his diapers in more ways than one while his Mēmē Natalie left him for Sievian stud Aleksis, earning them both residential status in the Sievian capital, Rezspils.
"Mēmē is going to read you a story before your second Vīripār," Natalie explained. "It's the tale of the first Mazubas and how the five nights of Mazubas came to be."
Brian looked up at his Mēmē with intrigue. He loathed Mazubas and what it had done to his life, but he had been looking forward to Vīripār all year for a chance to prove that he didn't need diapers so that he could ditch Sievia for good. Also, he hadn't learned much about where these insane customs had come from, so he was legitimately interested to be read to.
"A long time ago, the three goddesses descended upon the world of woman to ensure that womankind could continue throughout the ages," Natalie read. "There was the goddess of love, Ilgas, who delivered men and women the gift of desire so that they may partner up and raise children together. The goddess of death, Sarmīte, visited to remind humans that they must bear children to carry on their legacy following their timely ends, but promised to gift them long lives so that they may see their children raised to maturity.
"The most important of the goddesses, however, was Rasma, the goddess of fertility. She gave men and women the gift of izvat, which allowed them to create children together. She warned the people, however, that izvat was a precious gift that should never be wasted outside the act of sex between multiple partners.
"One man in Sievia could not help but izvat prematurely, however. This man was named Anatoli and he wanted to have a baby with his wife, Eleonora. Unfortunately, at the mere sight of Eleonora naked, Anatoli would izvat on Eleonora's chest, wasting his seed. Eleonora instructed Anatoli to trek and speak with the goddess Rasma praying that the couple may have child.
"Anatoli hiked up the Great Mountains of Magais for days to reach its highest point and be closer to the heavens so that he may pray to Rasma."
"Anatoli reached the peak of Magais and prayed to Rasma, 'Please, dear goddess, I wish for my wife to be with child.'
"Rasma appeared to Anatoli in all her glory. He finely sculpted body was too strong a sight for a mere mortal like Anatoli. She was unlike any human woman that Anatoli had seen with perfectly round, plump, and perky breasts that shined through her pure gold bralette. Though both beings were clothed, Anatoli could not resist making izvat in his pants at the stunning sight.
"Rasma chided Anatoli for wasting her great gift. 'You have wasted your izvat!' she cried out. 'You are no true man and my gift of izvat is misspent on one such as you who cannot help but untidy himself at the sight of a woman! I will grant your wife's wish. She should not have her prayers for a baby ignored simply because her husband lacks self-control. She will have her baby, and it shall be you!'
"Rasma pulled out a garment and commanded Anatoli to remove his clothing. He did as he commanded and Rasma placed the garment on Anatoli herself. It was a romblis like the ones made for babies, but it fit Anatoli perfectly and it was blessed with sacred enchantments. Every second that Anatoli wore the garment, he would izvat uncontrollably from the mere touch of the fabric against his genitalia.
"Anatoli starting convulsing immediately, spurting his useless seed in to his Romblis Maksis, which magically erased his izvat so that it would never fill nor ever need to be changed.
"'Crawl down the mountain and tell all of Rezspils what you've done here' Rasma decreed. 'Then, you will tell all the people there that they must share the gift of izvat with each other fully and publicly so that they you may witness how you've squandered it. The next day, you will be visited by my sisters who will treat you like the man baby you are.'
"Anatoli crawled on his hands and knees down the mountain as commanded, filling his romblis each second."
Photo credit: ridiculouslythickdiaper.org
"After days, Anatoli reached the village where the people awaited his return. At the sight of the grown man crawling in a romblis soiled with urine and feces from the long journey, the villagers burst into laughter. The pathetic display was a clear sign to them of Rasma's message - Men who izvat on themselves are no men at all; they are babies.
"Anatoli cried out Rasma's instructions, muffled by his sobs. The good townspeople delighted and obliged, tearing their clothes off and having sex all over town - through the square, outside the butcher's, in places of worship, etc.
"The Romblis Maksis continued to be filled with Anatoli's izvat as he witnessed the promiscuous sexual acts. Giant cocks swung around, large breasts bounced with each thrust, and sexual fluids spurted wildly at each other. It was a sexual celebration unlike anything ever seen as Sievia was reminded of the great power of Rasma's gifts.
"As Anatoli crawled to his home, he saw an unfortunate sight. His wife Eleonora was also on all fours in their flower garden, where she was being thrust into from behind by the town blacksmith. Anatoli wailed from heartbreak as he watched Eleonara's arms quiver harder and harder from each powerful drive of the blacksmith's enormous cock. The three of them did izvat together - Eleonara and the blacksmith into each other and Anatoli into his romblis.
"Eleonara saw Anatoli and wiped his tears. She said there was no reason for sadness; she finally had the baby that she had prayed to Rasma so often for! She took him inside of his own home where she changed his stinky romblis and put him to sleep at his new early bedtime."
Photo credit: ridiculouslythickdiaper.org
"The next morning, Anatoli awoke and remembered Rasma's declaration that he would be visited by the two other goddesses. It was just midday, after Eleonora had fed Anatoli his lunch, that the goddesses appeared before the former couple. The pair basked in the amazing glow of the beautiful goddesses and Anatoli couldn't help but fill his romblis in awe.
"Ilgas said unto Eleonora, 'Spend today with Eriks the blacksmith. He is your true soulmate. You two shall love each other as long as you both shall live.'
"Sarmīte continued, 'I will grant you two long lives so that you may grow old together. To make up for lost time, you two will be wed tomorrow morning. Your marriage to Eriks will be blessed by the three goddesses to be lifelong, passionate, and fruitful.'
"Eleonora cried out with delight, racing out the door to tell Eriks the good news. Meanwhile, the goddesses would tend to Anatoli, establishing him as the baby of the household so that Eriks would take the mantle of man of the house.
"Ilgas granted Anatoli a love of rombli so that he would never attempt to izvat in a woman or man ever again. Sarmīte granted Anatoli eternal life so that he would never grow old and therefore wouldn't need to procreate to continue his legacy. Anatoli would izvat in his sacred romblis for the rest of eternity.
"Ilgas and Sarmīte watched over Anatoli for the rest of the night, acting in the sacred role of mātre and changing his soiled romblis whenever Anatoli couldn't even remember to ask to use the bathroom.
Photo credit: ridiculouslythickdiaper.org
"Eleonora and Eriks returned two days later, married by the goddess Rasma and madly in love. The three goddesses spoke to the people of Sievia and told them to get together and pray. Pray that they appreciate the wonderful gift of izvat instead of blowing it in their rombli. Anatoli would be the center of their prayers as a grave reminder of the consequences of needlessly wasting their izvat.
"And so, all the people went out into the woods and formed a prayer circle around Anatoli. They stripped of their clothing to dance and chant, marveling at the sight of each other's bodies whilst managing to not izvat out of a lack of self-control.
"Anatoli, however, watched in the middle of everything, forced to izvat in his romblis every second of his now eternal life as punishment for his defiance of Rasma. The villagers prayed to the goddesses that they never forget the beauty of izvat and that they would only share it with each other.
"From that day on, the great people of Sievia knew that anyone who could not wait to izvat in order to make a baby was no better than a baby themselves. Any man who could not hold their izvat would be subject to a romblis from then on.
"And that's the story of the first Mazubas!
"Did you like the story, baby?" Natalie inquired. She looked up from her book for the first time to notice poor Brian squirming on the ground in his own romblis.
"Oh no! Looks like someone enjoyed the storybook a bit too much, right?" Natalie leaned down and stuck her fingers into the the leg hole of Brian's romblis to confirm. "Yep! You went izvat in your romblis just by listening to Mēmē's story! That's so freakin' adorable! Looks like you can stay home during this year's Vīripār. You've already proven that you still need romblis; what good would going to the dance even do? That's great because now I can tuck you in for an early bedtime before me and Dēdē go to the dance. Come on, little stinker. I see your eyes drooping already. And I still need to change your cummy romblis; if only you had a Romblis Maksis like Anatoli!"
On the first night of Mazubas, my true love gave to me; Tons of exclusive Patreon stories!
#ab/dl#diaper caption#ab/dl caption#diaper humiliation#diaperboy#mommy kink#mommysbaby#ab/dl boy#ab/dl mommy#ab/dl fiction#ab/dl story#ab/dl story time
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house of arthena — masterlist, introductory, and rules
INTRODUCTORY —
writer: athen/ayen | 20 | he/him | sapphic | INFP-T
occupation: freelance artist, college student, writer
birthday: 10/04/2003
nationality: 🇵🇭
kins (can be best compared to irl): mizu, caelus, ominis, ren amamiya, sun jing (physical wise), geto suguru
interests:
media — blue-eyed samurai, jujutsu kaisen, shingeki no kyojin, chainsaw man, detroit become human, red dead redemption, hogwarts legacy, persona 5 royal, valorant, honkai star rail, genshin impact
artists — nct (all units but prefers dream), riize, lesserafim, newjeans, bada lee, lee youngji, laufey, kiss of life, exo
will write for the following — mizu, gojo satoru, geto suguru, ieri shoko, nanami kento, fushiguro megumi, kugisaki nobara, zenin maki, okkotsu yuuta, eren jaeger, pieck finger, mikasa ackerman, armin arlert, annie leonhart, makima, quanxi, power, aki hayakawa, denji, connor (all rk series), john marston, arthur morgan, sebastian sallow, ominis gaunt, imelda reyes, ren amamiya, akechi goro, jett, cypher, sage, reyna, neon, fade, iso, gekko, chamber, yoru, sova, jingyuan, danheng, blade, kafka, seele, albedo, xiao, kaeya, raiden ei, yae miko, alhaitham, childe, knave, nct dream, bada lee, hong seunghan, park wonbin, lee sohee, huh yunjin, kim chaewon, byun baekhyun, do kyungsoo
read more to check rules and list of works!
rules (for requesting)
— writer has the right to refuse request
— writer is a full-time college student and a part-time freelance artist doing commissions, there is no set time that he will upload and post said requests
— only refer to the list above when requesting (if your character despite in the same media listed above is not included, you may dm the writer if he is willing to write the request or simply state it in the request ask linked on his bio)
— writer prefers writing in gender-neutral terms or she/her pronouns, he will use this unless stated otherwise so make sure to include it in your requests
— nsfw is okay but always keep in mind rule 1
— writer appreciates reactions such as comments or reposts with messages a lot! <3 it just makes writing fun and enjoyable to know that his readers are enjoying his works :)
— writer will only do oneshots or 2-3 chapter works, (oneshots with multiple parts under the same theme eg. modern!au mizu or nocturne(interlude)!mizu are counted as oneshots under the same theme. they can be read as solo or just under the same category) longer chapter series will be done through commissions.
— if reader wishes to commission, refer to pinned.
LIST OF WORKS —
Blue-Eyed Samurai
nocturne (interlude) (p1)
my love mine all mine (p2)
blurred lines (roommate!mizu)
mizu as your roommate (pre-blurred lines)
creative team lead!mizu x concept artist!reader
Jujutsu Kaisen
GOJO SATORU
can't think right, too tongue tied, it must be love
Hogwarts Legacy
Masterlist here
Honkai Star Rail
KAFKA
Feelings with Kafka 18+
DAN HENG
Perception
ART
mizu x oc! blurred lines
nier x sebastian hogwarts legacy
seb x mc commission
nier and nora (ocs hl)
stelle x asta
ominis x mc x seb
tbotb concept art hl series
If you have any concerns or questions you'd like to ask, click the question mark emoji on my blog bio! or if you want to support me as an artist hehe listed below is my kofi. tysm!
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NONFICTION BOOK ANNOUNCEMENT - The Werewolf: Past and Future now available in HARDBACK!
BIG ANNOUNCEMENT - my popular nonfiction werewolf book (on folklore and many things besides), The Werewolf: Past and Future - Lycanthropy's Lost History and Modern Devolution, is now available in hardback, in addition to paperback and ebook/digital!
Click here to purchase on Amazon.com!
Also check out the many pics of it in this post (plus the book received cat approval; pics included)! Note that pictures are, obviously, of a proof copy.
The book is very good quality! I'm impressed! You won't be disappointed. The hardcover is nice and hefty without being bulky, and the spine is sturdy and lovely.
And best of all, the book comes kitty certified, inspected by Ty Beanie Baby (yes, that is his name) himself.
He gave it a sniff.
And even honored it with a rub. Clearly it's a good book. And it didn't fall over! It's very sturdy.
(Disclaimer: He did just want treats afterward, as he cannot read. Treats and pettings were of course given.)
Synopsis:
Since before recorded history, werewolves have captivated human imagination. Simultaneously, they represent our deepest fears as well as our desire to connect with our primal ancestry. Today, werewolves are portrayed negatively, associated with violence, cruelty, cannibalism, and general malevolence. However, in ages past, legends depicted them not as monsters, but as a range of neutral to benevolent individuals, such as traveling companions, guardians, and knights. The robust legacy of the werewolf spans from prehistory, through ancient Greece and Rome, to the Middle Ages, into the Early Modern period, and finally into present-day popular culture. Over the ages, the view of the werewolf has become distorted. Media treatment of werewolves is associated with inferior writing, lacking in thought, depth, and meaning. Werewolves as characters or creatures are now generally seen as single-minded and one-dimensional, and they want nothing more than to kill, devour, and possibly violate humans. Hollywood depictions have resulted in the destruction of the true meanings behind werewolf legends that fascinated and terrified humans for so many ages. If these negative trends were reversed, perhaps entertainment might not only discover again some of the true meanings behind the werewolf myth, but also take the first steps toward reversing negative portrayals of wolves themselves, which humans have, for eons, wrongfully stigmatized and portrayed as evil, resulting in wolves receiving crueler treatment than virtually any other animal. To revive the many questions posed by lycanthropy, entertainment must show respect to the rich history of so many cultures all around the world – and rediscover the legend of the werewolf.
Again, be sure to check out the book on Amazon.com!
If you would prefer to buy a signed copy directly from me, I'll have something very fun in store for you in October... along with another surprise: a brand new book! And it's more werewolf nonfiction. My big fiction publication is coming next year, and it's also werewolf-related. It's a great time to love werewolves.
Expect another big announcement soon about a brand new nonfiction werewolf folklore book!
So stay tuned for a whole lot more on the way! Be sure to give me a follow here and elsewhere on social media. I'll also have a newsletter coming very soon that'll help you keep up with my work, and it'll come with free reading!
Until next time, and happy fall!
Patreon --- Wulfgard --- Werewolf Fact Masterlist --- Twitter
#werewolf#werewolves#werewolf wednesday#werewolfwednesday#book#books#hardback#hardcover#nonfiction#academic writing#academia#sources#sourcebook#wolf#wolves#mythology#lycanthrope#lycanthropes#lycanthropy#werewolf history#folklore
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Live Laugh Legacy a Sims 4 Base Game-friendly challenge by simpishly.tumblr.com
Everyone's heard of Johnny Zest. (Or so he hopes.) Former Landgraab, up-and-coming comedian, a friendly, outgoing goofball hanging around Oasis Springs just waiting to make it big.
But even Johnny can't shake his family's streak of ambition. It's got him thinking: I'm not the same as my parents, but why is that so bad? I live laugh love my life. Maybe I can create a live laugh legacy that allows every Sim in my family to follow their own dreams and goals...
Johnny's legacy aims to celebrate differences. It's okay to not be like the family members that have come before you! In fact, for this challenge, it's required.
Live Laugh Legacy Rules
Your challenge is to help Johnny carry on this new legacy through ten unique generations:
You must assign each generation ONE adult aspiration category. That generation may only complete aspiration(s) within that category. That includes heirs, spouses, etc., any young adult or older Sim living in the current household that is not from a previous generation.
Your Generation 1 category (Johnny's generation) must be "Popularity", though it's up to you which Popularity aspiration(s) you choose to complete.
You cannot repeat a category once you have used it for a generation. All Child and Teen categories/aspirations are excepted from this rule.
You must complete at least one adult aspiration each generation before continuing to the next.
There are exactly 10 Base Game aspiration categories, one for each generation including Johnny's. If you have additional packs installed, you may have more categories to choose from.
Base Game Adult Aspiration Categories
Athletic
Creativity
Deviance
Family
Food
Fortune
Knowledge
Love
Nature
Popularity (Johnny's generation)
Pack/Kit Adult Aspiration Categories
Animal* (requires Cats & Dogs)
Location (requires City Living, Island Living, Snowy Escape, For Rent, StrangerVille, and/or Bust the Dust)
Star Wars (requires Journey to Batuu)
Wellness (requires Spa Day)
Werewolf (requires Werewolves)
*Be aware, the Animal aspiration category only has one aspiration. Feel free to combine it with the base game Nature category instead.
Additional Rules
No money cheats at any point during the challenge. All other cheats, mods, and custom content are ok!
Designate one heir per generation to carry on the family just like a standard legacy challenge. A new generation starts when the next heir ages up to young adult.
(optional) Every heir must have the Ambitious trait, because some family legacies are harder to shake than others...
This challenge is meant to be bare bones, allowing you to put your personal creativity and spin on it. You might even play through it once, then play it again a different way. Play as-is or add your own bonus goals and guidelines to create the game you want!
Questions? Comments? Want to share your attempt at the challenge? Click here to send me a message!
Above all, have fun and don't forget to leeb, leefah, lurve. 😉
#Sims 4#Sims 4 challenge#Live Laugh Legacy#Live Laugh Legacy Challenge#Johnny Zest#Landgraab#simpishly#just a little something I've been working on!! aka my first brand new challenge since the LEPacy
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Happy Simblreen!
I noticed several simmers have been creating a variety of different projects for simblreen. Today I have a short list of amazing occult, spooky, halloween-y let’s plays. Personally, I am enjoying them all and really think you should check them out. See below!
CelestialSims - Shadows of Forgotten Hollow 🖤
Meet Jade, our vampiric mother, and Rarity, her infant vampiric daughter. We go through the story of Jade and her moving into her grandfather's haunted house, trying to communicate with him and stop the haunting, protect our daughter, and accomplish the ultimate vampire transformations succubus style!
SmithSims - All Hallows End ✨
The Hallow and Knox families are the richest families in Windenburg and their covens have rivaled for centuries. With the death of Corneilus Hallow the leader of the Apollo coven who will calm the chaos that is about to let loose in Windenburg. We follow TEN families as we try to figure out who is practicing the darkest of magics and committing murder.
AkiiSims - This Sucks 🧛🏽♀️
Welcome to the darker side of the Sims. This tale takes place in Willow Creek/ Forgotten Hollow where we follow Empathy Lajoie. Stay tuned because things get very weird!
ARandomSimmer - Occult Legacy 🧙🏾♀️
Hey friends! Found the occult legacy challenge online and wanted to give it a try. So excited for this😆
Cxpidsims - Slasher 🩸
7 sims decide to book a concerningly cheap barn on airbnb to celebrate their college graduation. this group of sims have no idea what, or WHO... awaits them on carmichael creek.
All credits to the original creators. I also linked their social media as well if you click their names. Thanks!
#simblreen#simblreen 2024#simblr#ts4 simblr#sims 4 simblr#the sims 4#ts4 lets play#sims lets play#black simmer#I might add hyperlinks later just fyi
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