#there is no other world than the real world

[erwinsvow]

I LOVEEE WIFEY READER i wanna be rafes perfect little housewifey..

girl me!!! me asf!!!!!!!!! this is the most shy reader concept i think she is very content to be a housewife and have lots of kids running around and she kind of drifts off and fantasizes about it a lot..

you often drift away into your own thoughts, something rafe has gotten used to by now. he doesn't need to snap you out of it—infact, he doesn't like to, since he thinks it's better to leave you in your thoughts than worrying about something once he brings you back to the real world.

so watching you now, perched on the chair by his window, your book abandoned on your lap and staring out the window, he doesn't know why he does it.

"kid. kid." you still don't hear him so he gets up, leaving his laptop and papers behind on the desk and getting closer to where you are. the sun coming in through the window feels warm, yet you look perfectly comfortable, perfectly content. rafe puts a hand on your knee and the other on the windowsill, boxing you in.

"what're you thinkin' about, huh?" rafe asks, and you look up at him right away. your breathing picks up when you see how close he is, feeling a little silly for not realizing this entire time.

you stay like that—staring up at him, the vision of the scene you were just daydreaming flooding back. your pretty boyfriend as your pretty husband, a house like tannyhill of your own, all the time with rafe that you could possibly imagine.

"n-nothing," you finally reply, remembering rafe had asked a question.

"nothin'? yeah?" you nod in agreement, not entirely sure what you're agreeing to. your head feels a little fuzzy still, but it doesn't take rafe long. he looks back out the window, in the direction you had been looking. there's a clear view of the neighbor's yard, little kids running around while mom and dad chase them.

rafe's not stupid, but when it comes to matters concerning you, he's something of a genius. two and two come together quickly, the flushed way you look up at him and whatever dream you were picturing coming into his own mind too.

"cute kids, huh?"

you nod again, heartbeat picking up though you're not sure why. yet. rafe leans in, his arms still surrounding you like a trap. everything feels more intense when he's like this.

"i bet ours would be cuter, right?" your lips part in surprise by themselves—staring back and blinking quickly. you nod. "like that, wouldn't you?"

rafe's hand finally leaves the window and joins his other one on your legs, stroking up and down. you turn to look down but can't help looking into his eyes again immediately after.

"i asked you a question."

"yes. yes, um, i-"

"knew you would. a whole bunch of kids and nothin' else to worry about, right?"

you look up, your own eyes melting while you stare at his, wondering when you had stopped telling rafe things, realizing he understood you even without words.

"except you. you and the kids." you don't even realize the words slipped out—still feeling like too much. your cheeks burn, thinking you just said something you shouldn't have.

"good girl. c'mon, on the bed. gotta start with one, right?"

[hxltic]

nsfw!!

“We s-shouldn’t be doing this.”

You breathe to Bakugo while your hips press into the counter from the sheer force of him swiftly gathering your wrists behind your back. He’s plastered right up against you in the luxury bathroom of the venue, digging his head into your neck to scatter rough kisses wherever his lips land. In all his hardness, he was gentle as could be.

“So?” He grunts. He uses the hand that isn’t caging your arms to brush your hair out of the way. The dress you’re wearing fits you so snug he could barely contain himself from ripping it off.

You’re supposed to be reviewing the stats for this year’s hero work. And back then, he wouldn’t dare miss it for anything. “Was Deku in front of him?” “Was that dumbass Denki still holding his own?” He’d ask.

But now? His priorities have shifted. It’s actually how you ended up here.

Both of you are now well into the second year of being out of high school— the dreaded, invisible years where you had liked him and saw him as unreachable— while he had liked you but would be damned if it kept him away from that number one spot. Now, he realizes he’d missed his chance years ago, especially seeing you grown in all your maturity and being the powerful woman he knew you were.

You met somewhere in the hallway before the ceremony, eyeing each other down— him in his sharp suit vest over the dress shirt he wore, and you, a mid length satin slip dress with your hair pushed back and dazzling earrings— trying your best to hold it together. You couldn’t. Once it rekindled, it had burst into flames and engulfed the both of you quicker than you could think.

“Shit,” he huffs, pulling his lips up your back and dragging his free hand from the bottom of your thigh to your hip, gathering the soft fabric simultaneously. “You’re so fuckin’ sexy.”

His warm touch sends electricity through your veins. Pushing back into him, now almost bare of your lower half with the exception of the thong you were wearing, you hum and close your eyes as your eyebrows turn upward. This couldn’t be real.

Oh but it is, and first, he slides the strap of your dress to descend your shoulder. Then, he dips his fingers between the thin band of your garment and your skin, dragging it off steadily that slows the world in your space, not even watching it drop as he pecks your shoulder and watches your countenance in the mirror.

“We don’t have a lotta time. Tell me what ya want.”

You’d think you’re past this with the way you threw yourself at him in that hallway, but clearly you aren’t. “Let me feel you, Kats.”

He groans, “Atta girl. M’name sounds so good when you say it.” And you mustn’t have saw him remove himself from his pants considering he was directly behind you, because within the next second, he’s spreading around your slick and dipping two experimental fingers in, just to pull them out and transfer the wetness to his length. His tip prods at your entrance before gradually inching in.

You both release a weighted sigh as it takes your already limited breath away. He goes to raise your chin, but ends up wrapping the span of his whole hand around your neck delicately.

Your whimpers play in his ears during the whole process of warming you up to him. He thanks god for putting him out of his misery when you finally do get comfortable. You were gripping onto him for dear life— probably afraid that if you let go, he will too.

His thrusts increase from the slowness that has him waning to a faster, rougher pace that rebounds you forward off him. He was wide and pierced through your walls, opening you up, but most of the pleasure emanated from his strong grip and overwhelming presence.

You dip your head as far forward as he would let you go, struggling with your composure. It wouldn’t be out of character for Bakugo to absolutely ruin you in this locked bathroom, but hopefully, some of your makeup is still in tact. But the more you think about it, the more enticing it is to let him ruin it. What a field day paparazzi would have with that.

Your vision gets darker the more your eyes flutter, breasts floating just above the fancy marble. His hands are now around the dips of your hips while yours grip onto the cold stone, still slamming you back onto him in the form of a grind to somewhat minimize the slap of skin. It didn’t seem to make a difference considering the consistent moans gliding off your lips and the grunts from the back of his throat.

“Just wait ‘till I can take you back to my place.” He suddenly starts. Your eyes blink open and your brows furrow in question at the sound of his voice, your body jerking each time you hit his pelvis. He grabs a handful of your ass and just to slap it, and he additionally warms his hand enough to see a red tint to the skin afterwards. The sound from your lips is filthy.

On another note, you’re happy to hear him thinking about the future. The future with you. “What happens at your place that isn’t h-happening here?” You force out with a crooked smile, trying to see his face in all the light by lifting your head. “Haah, fuck.”

He decides to make it easier for you, the nice man that he is, and pulls your figure away from the counter. He pulls out and turns you around so you can see him and crashes his lips onto yours relentlessly. He’s hungry and passionate and really fucking hard. In fact, it’s even harder ignoring it when one hand is digging through the hair at your nape to guide your head up to his and the other is scooping under both your thighs to effortlessly hoist you up.

The surface is cool against your skin, but it dissipates as fast as it came.

“At my place,” he scoots your thighs closer, dragging you to the very edge, “I can do much worse to you.” His voice is declaring in your ear and down the column of your neck where he bites but is sure not to leave a mark.

“I can kiss you how I like.” How he’s been wanting to.

“Can eat you how I like.” How he’s been needing to.

His grip rotates to the front of your throat as his cock finds your hole again, inserting faster and smoother than the first time. The intrusion melts your body.

Your eyes shut and your jaw drops in a gasp. He groans from the bottom of his heart at the same time he swallows it with a short, deep kiss. He breathes into your mouth, “Can fuck you how I like.”

“Katsuki.”

“Leave with me.” He thrusts into the new angle, right up to your g-spot. It pains him to tighten his hold on the sides of your throat and lessen the mantra of his name, but with the way you were going, anyone would come banging on the door with a flashing camera. To his statement— that you have observed Bakugo long enough to know should technically be a question— the quick nods of your head were enough answer.

Your orgasm comes barreling towards you as you still try to take it all in. The hallway to now. It was like a fever dream (or a miracle really) to be reunited with him in such a way.

Let’s see if he holds up his promise in his bed, because he definitely does here. You end the night with him still throbbing in his pants, your seat arranged to be next to his, and your dress gently pulled down over your shaking thighs. He fixes what he knows how to fix off your makeup before ushering you out first.

“How do I look?” You make sure your earrings are still straight in the mirror before walking out. Then you turn to him.

“Horrible.”

You deadpan him. “No seriously!”

“You’re glowing,” he presses your hair back and kisses your cheek when he passes by you to the door. He adds, “You look freshly fucked,” tossing you a smile back before leaving.

©️hxltic

[zephyrchama]

Water Wrinkles

Seven demon brothers sat solemnly in a circle around you. You did your best to ignore them. It wasn't often that you got to spend time at the human world villa, and you were intent on soaking up as much sun as you could before returning to the Devildom.

You reclined your beach chair back, crossing your arms under your still-wet hair. It was a gorgeous day. Perfect for being at the pool.

Leviathan let out a muffled sob. As the demon with the highest affinity for water, he blamed himself.

"Let us take you to a hospital," Satan insisted for the tenth time.

"They're going to laugh us out of the ER," you nonchalantly repeated.

Satan lowered his eyes and muttered, "I couldn't find any traces of a curse in the water... So how...?"

Asmodeus had his head in his hands, unresponsive. Sometimes his fingers curled around the ends of his hair. You briefly glanced over to make sure he didn't pull his hair out - that would be grounds for a real emergency.

"I can't bear to watch. Lucifer, do somethin'," Mammon whined. He was fidgeting all over the place and winced whenever he looked at your feet.

The oldest glared at you. You knew it was out of concern, but his fears were unfounded. Even Lucifer refused to listen to reason when he thought you were in danger.

"Actually, yeah. Lucifer, can you pass me a towel?" you asked. It was embarrassing having seven shirtless demons intensely staring at you. If they wouldn't let you go back in the water, maybe covering up would make you feel less self-conscious.

Lucifer didn't move. It was Beelzebub who plucked a spare towel off his younger twin and handed it to you with a shaking arm. He looked like a wet puppy, having been the one who first discovered your "condition" and swept you out of the pool.

Belphegor hadn't gone in the water that day. He only hogged the plush towels because of how comfortable they were and, following Beelzebub's lead, dumped them all onto your chair. Now he sat, wide awake. He was anxiously squeezing a loose chunk of concrete but at some point, without realizing, it got crushed to powder in his hand.

You had more than enough towels now.

"In half an hour you're going to forget this all even happened," you said to reassure the worry warts.

"In half an hour, you might be gone!" Mammon snapped back.

"You're going to be a wrinkled mess of skin and bones," Asmodeus weeped quietly.

Leviathan pressed his hands over his ears. Though, with nothing to cover his eyes he was forced to look at your wrinkled hands again. Based on the noises he was making, you'd think someone was torturing him.

"As I've said!" you reiterated. "All humans get wrinkly in water. Look, now that I'm drying off it's going back to normal."

Beelzebub grabbed your ankle, raising it for the brothers to observe at eye level. "I don't see a difference."

You didn't expect the sudden manhandling and slunk several inches down the lounge chair while the demons stared at your foot. Kicking and twisting your leg was futile. You modestly crossed your free leg.

"I think it's getting worse," Satan said.

"We need to take action," Lucifer decided.

Asmodeus was actively quivering now. Belphegor and Leviathan had crept behind you and started picking at your wrinkly fingers. You tried to swat them away to no avail.

"Give me 25 minutes! Literally! Probably even less, this will go away on its own! I just need to dry off."

"We need a solution now," Mammon asserted. The cogs in his brain were turning. "We need fire."

You tried to sit up, to jump up and stop Mammon before he burned the whole villa down in an attempt to dry you off, but Beelzebub had not let go and you stumbled. You grazed your knee on the concrete and winced.

A second round of panic overcame the demon brothers. Beelzebub let go, Lucifer picked you up, and Belphegor wrapped your knee with every available towel he could lay his hands on. Asmodeus and Leviathan were crying on each other's shoulders. Mammon came running back, oblivious to the second disaster that just occurred, with a flaming stick in his hand that Satan tried to keep at bay. If you got burnt on top of everything else, they'd probably go insane and destroy the human world.

In the midst of the chaos you caught a glimpse of your hand. It was practically dry. You couldn't even see the wrinkles anymore. You angrily wiggled in Lucifer's grasp as various hands fussed over you.

"Stay!!" you shouted over the clamor.

The brothers went tumbling to the ground, save for Lucifer who fought to stay rooted in place. You could finally hear yourself think again. There was primarily one thought on your mind.

"I just want to go swimming."

[yanderenightmare]

Ryomen Sukuna

TW: NSFW, noncon, virgin reader, Sukuna in general

fem reader

Thinking about Demon King Sukuna and how he receives a virgin for his harem every new moon. Most are unfortunate townspeople who’ve come of age—but you’re something he can savor even more, something truly special.

The silk kimono you’d been dressed in is easily ripped from your body, leaving you bare. You’d been warned not to fight or run, that he’d only sooner kill and eat you—but you keep your faith and try and escape anyway. 

All your life, the temple has taught you of Ryomen Sukuna—that he’s a harbinger of carnage and death. You’d feel better offering your life to the Gods than allowing it to remain captive by the likes of evil.

He only grabs and manhandles you with nothing more but a sadistic laugh, catching your hair in a fist as he pulls you up until only the tips of your toes are left grazing the floors—and even then, he has to bow nearly half his length before he’s leveling your eyes with his.

“My patience is a fickle thing, turtledove. Run again, and I’ll treat it like a real hunt. Which would be a real shame… I so hate spilling holy blood before I’ve made it filthy with sin.”

You're thrown onto a large round bed next. It catches you with a bounce while he crawls after you, taking hold of both your ankles and swiftly pulling you beneath him. 

His chest is marked with demonic seals, and so is his face, where he looms above you with a deranged smile. Raking his claws up your legs and thighs, he spreads and pushes them flat against the bed while his other two hold your crying face, cupping your cheeks with both thumbs hooking into the wet of your mouth, playing with your tongue as you sob. When he shows you his and its black markings, you scream, feeling as though he’s pouring poison down your throat as he feeds you its length and knots it with yours.

You choke and sob while you share each other’s spit, feeling tarnished and forsaken by all that you held sacred—wondering why the heavens would allow this to happen as the weight of his manhood finds rest between your thighs, upon your mound and tummy, where it grows fat and warm.

His hands leave your face and switch places with the other two, freeing them for what he plans on doing next. Wrapping one around himself, he gives it languid tugs while soaking in the sight of your poor little cunt trembling in fear of something it only barely knows what is. His other hand pets it soothingly in mockery, tickling the slit, making you shake.

His stomach then splits open like a cut, baring teeth and a tongue that only earns your horrified expression—crying as it drools over you, jutting out to lick the tender place you so wished had remained untouched. You whine in shudders as he squeezes your throat and bares down over you, staring at you with keen bromine eyes, amused with your fall from grace as you come undone.

“You taste sweet,” he moans against your lips while his other mouth slurps at your core, also groaning.

You’re naïve for thinking it’s over where you blink away tears, but he doesn’t blame you. They never teach you the truth in temples, only childish lies that leave you ever vulnerable to the outside world and ever sweeter for him to ruin.

“I apologize for clipping your wings, angel. But I must say… depravity suits you better.”

Nothing. Not a prayer or plea leaves your lips as he tears through and fills you up. Only a choked gasp that dies midway. You bite into your lip, squeezing your eyes shut—ready to accept a death that never comes. Instead, there’s a living hell, and you can only scream as it consumes you.

Your whimpering is delicious, caught beneath him, panting every time his hips snap forth and storm your clingy insides, gushing for him like he knew you would be—sweetly surrendering all your worship to him and honoring him as your new god.

Perhaps he won’t feast on your flesh once he’s done as cute as you are. He wouldn’t mind keeping you around for a bit. Teach you how to serve him properly. Paint you with his seals. Make you his favorite pet.

[zombie-bait]

Full Moon

Ok so I don’t normally post about Helluva Boss but the newest episode touched on an interesting concept I haven’t necessarily seen represented in media. Back when I was on Twitter (derogatory) a few years ago there was this now deleted viral thread where someone discussed how their struggles with mental health affected their relationship with their partner and I haven’t stopped thinking about it since. 

This is such a good, short example of how anxiety and depression can play tricks on you. It becomes so easy to envision yourself as a nuisance, a constant burden to those closest to you because they cannot possibly genuinely enjoy your company, right? But in doing so you create this arbitrarily cruel version of the people you love, people who would otherwise never behave like this outside of your own mind.

It's mean. Because your mind wants to be mean to you under these circumstances. It wants to put everyone else's emotions and desires above yours, both in worthiness and validity. And that starts bleeding into your understanding of other people, especially those you care about.

Now. Helluva Boss.

"Can I get a fucking MINUTE to think after everything you put me through you pompous rich ASSHOLE? Treat me like one of your little butler imps, you can’t just dismiss me like that! I mean, you royal fucks think you can do this every time, like you can just play with our feelings because we’re smaller and not as important. Well I’m not letting you, BITCH! Let’s go!" - Blitz

I find it really interesting how Helluva Boss decided to approach this conflict between Stolas and Blitz. Obviously, the difference in power matters. It's the underlying tension of their entire relationship and their lives. Stolas is burdened by the mountain of expectations thrust upon him from a very young age while Blitz is constantly reminded that he can NEVER be part of that world, that he is "smaller and not as important" not just in Hell's hierarchy but in his own life and family. Stolas very literally has power over Blitz (through the grimoire, the arrangement, his position in society) and Blitz uses their relationship as an excuse to reverse those roles. But that power dynamic, in one form or another, never truly goes away. And for Blitz, it's a lot easier to paint Stolas as this manipulative symbol of power and himself as nothing more than Stolas' plaything. It's easier to be angry than to be vulnerable and accept that someone might care about him.

"Dismiss" is the keyword in that quote. All that Blitz has been able to process is that Stolas has decided to end the relationship that they have. He feels ls like a choice has been taken away from him so he lashes out because he's not ready to emotionally tackle what the rest of Stolas' offer might entail. If Stolas hates him, just wants to play with him, then he is justified in his anger, his self-destruction, his isolation. If the world is mean, you're "allowed" to be mean back.

But

In that moment he forgets that Stolas is someone he actually cares about. Someone he's known for way too long and clearly wants to keep in his life, no matter how reluctant he can be to admit it. Someone who is not innately cruel or manipulative but sad and desperate for connections in a lot of the same ways that Blitz is. And Blitz immediately sees that he's miscalculated something.

Somewhere along the way the fictional version of Stolas that he's allowed himself to be mad at and the real one that he's not ready to admit he cares about have merged into something real that he has actual power over. Stolas can get hurt and Blitz can be the one who does it. He has once again allowed his greatest fears (which Stolas so frequently symbolizes) to co-opt his loved ones, to give him an "out" even though he didn't actually want one in the first place.

I'm definitely not the first person to say this but I think this is an example of the miscommunication trope done right. Their individual struggles are what cause them to be unable to connect during this conversation or to even have a proper conversation in the first place. There is no convenient misunderstanding or third party fabricating this rift. Both of them have preconceived ideas of what the other one is thinking but those ideas are flawed and rooted in self-hatred. They also both shutdown in their unique ways when the conversation starts heading in the direction they'd feared it would.

Blitz and Stolas work because they're both fucked up in similar ways, because they want similar things. That's the same reason why they're uniquely designed to hurt one another. A fear of rejection and a yearning for happiness. To borrow a quote that has been used by literally everyone from Spiderman to Evangelical preachers, "hurt people hurt people."

anyway, I really liked this episode.

(twitter thread screenshots sourced from this reddit post)

[euthymiya]

innocent ploys ft. jiyan

stealing moments of intimacy is difficult when the man you love is away for war so often. still, you and jiyan make the most of the few moments you can spare

contains: gender neutral reader ; established relationship ; brushing jiyan’s hair ; kissing tacet marks—the headcanon that they’re sensitive is so real to me ; slightly suggestive ending

it’s quiet in jinzhou when jiyan comes home to you, late into the night. you perk up as the bedroom door slowly creaks open, eyes brightening clearly even in the dimmed room.

“you’re back,” you breathe, grinning as you sit up.

he sighs, fond and exhausted as he lets out a soft chuckle and murmurs, “shouldn’t you be asleep?”

“i’m cold,” you pout, pulling the blankets around yourself for proof as you add, “if only there was something—maybe someone to keep me warm so i could sleep.”

his lips curl into a wider, breathtaking smile—so tired, so worn, yet so peaceful as he stares at you. he shakes his head in amusement, slowly shedding the layers of clothes as he murmurs, “i’ll come join you in a moment. i should brush my hair first.”

you admire him, the planes of muscles, the faint scars, the bare skin as he stands in nothing but his boxers, ready to join you in your shared bed. a bed that you often use alone, admittedly, but shared between the two of you in rare, stolen moments all the same.

“no, i’ll do it,” you offer enthusiastically, patting the spot in front of you on the mattress.

jiyan’s hair is long. sometimes, you wonder how it doesn’t interfere with him in such heavy combat he faces so often, but you appreciate the long, soft strands for their beauty. they make him feel a little normal sometimes. they make him feel like he’s just yours to love, laid in bed beside you for your fingers to run through the locks instead of the lover you sacrifice to war.

he’ll be gone in the morning, the bedsheets lingering with his scent and the ghosts of his body residing through crinkles in the fabric beside you. he’ll go back to harsh nights and rough battles, the aching muscles and sore bruises, the limited supplies and lonely nights—and you’ll be back to empty halls and a quiet home, worry making itself comfortable under your skin where the fantoms of his touch remain fresh in your memory.

but you love him—it’s easy to do, even if not easy to have. you’ve come to terms with the limitations loving a general comes with, but when he caves and sits in front of you, quiet with his shoulders slumped in a rare moment of being relaxed, and your fingers can undo the high ponytail with gentle fingers, it feels normal. it feels like he was never gone, like he’ll never leave again.

you allow yourself to believe the silly, wishful dream for just tonight.

“you don’t have to go through the trouble,” he whispers quietly, but he leans into your fingers as they thread through his hair and gently scratch at his scalp soothingly.

such empty words, you want to tease. he loves it practically more than you do—you know it from prior experience. instead, however, you giggle as you reply, “it’s the least i can do for all the hard, cruel battles you face just for the citizens of jinzhou, my dear general.”

“if you keep calling me general instead of my name, i’ll be inclined to believe you only like me for my status.”

“oh we can’t have that,” you gasp, bantering easily as you bite your lips to suppress a wide smile, “it’s the least i can do for your sacrifices, jiyan.”

slowly, with a delicateness no other corner of the world affords him, you brush through the knots from the bottom, carefully working your way up so as not to hurt him. gentleness is not something a general who lives on the battlefield comes to know with familiarity—still, you make him feel fragile, like he needs soft, kind touches to survive instead of the abrasively harsh blows from war.

“no need to repay me,” he breathes a low chuckle, sighing as you gently glide the bristles through his hair, letting them rake against his scalp in place of your nails like earlier. his tense muscles slowly relax from the long day, leaning back as your fingers gingerly part his hair, sweeping the strands to lay over his shoulders on either side.

“any new injuries i should be made aware of?” you ask quietly, gliding a finger along the faint scars on his bare back.

he hums, eyes fluttered shut as he responds, “not this time. we haven’t run into too many tacet discords yet.”

“should i be relieved or worried by that?” you sigh, leaning forward to rest your chin on his shoulder, pressing a warm, lingering kiss to his shoulder blade as goosebumps raise against his skin.

“you don’t trust me on the field?” he teases, reaching a hand back to grab yours, toying with your fingers.

“no, actually,” you say flatly, raising a brow as you purse your lips, “i think you exert yourself too much.”

“it’s my duty to keep the citizens safe,” he sighs.

it’s my duty to keep you safe, he means to say. he doesn’t, if only to avoid the scolding you’ll give him for pushing himself for your sake, so he keeps the words locked away for the battlefield, instead—a lingering reminder that he keeps at the forefront of his mind so every fight has a purpose.

but you seem to know the unspoken words anyway, because as if reading his mind, you mumble, “it’s also your duty to come back to me in one piece, you know.”

“and i’ve yet to fail,” he says smartly, making you huff.

finally, you pull away, grabbing the hair tie to collect his hair back into a ponytail, but not before a small, mischievous smile spreads thinly over your lips.

he doesn’t suspect it—the slight jolt of surprise tells you that much clearly when your lips gently graze the tacet mark on the back of his neck, humming into his skin as your soft breath fans over the heated surface. your lips trace the mark, mapping it slowly one peck at a time as he shivers, breath hitching in his throat.

“that’s true,” you whisper, fighting back a grin when he groans slightly at the way your lips speak against his mark, the movement sending shockwaves down his spine. “you do always come back to me whole.”

he’s always been sensitive there, always shivered under your touch right over the large mark that litters the back of his neck.

“don’t tease,” he chides, voice strained as you giggle, a shaky breath releasing when you pull away.

but he tenses right back up again when you lean back in and trail your lips along the end of the mark, the part that’s lower on his back along his spine.

“tease?” you gasp, “oh, but general, i’m only being affectionate. surely someone as disciplined as you couldn’t be so riled up over a few kisses?”

“this innocent ploy is hardly believable when you wear it,” he says through a hoarse voice.

you grin as he turns, his hair still loose and cascading freely along his back. he’s pressing you back against the mattress in an instant as he hovers over you and cages you with his arms. the soft, teal strands curtain you from the rest of the world as they fall to the side of his face while he stares down at you.

“well,” you press a finger against his bare chest, tracing a line down the middle with a teasingly feather-light touch, “aren’t you going to make the most of your visit home?”

“oh yes,” he laughs, shaking his head as he leans down to kiss your jaw sweetly, “i assure you, i intend to do just that.”

okay but seriously how does he maintain such gorgeous luscious locks of hair at that length in the middle of war that’s kind of impressive i breathe and my hair knots ��

[dropespeon]

considering how much isat is a deconstruction of the rpg genre in itself i love the way they handle smaller rpg tropes like. rpgs let you go into people's houses, but they're rarely more than one room (since they mostly only exist to build the world and provide side quests). going into people's houses is normal in vaugardian culture, but only the first room. the broken bridge that serves as a way to prevent you from going a certain direction can be leapt over really easy, actually. you don't need to pay for food and equipment, because of course people will be happy to help the group trying to save their country!

but isat still understands why these things are the way they are, and uses them anyways. the houses are still used for sidequests, and the game really wouldn't gain much from letting you explore more anyways, so why bother? the bridge still serves as a barrier for progression, because the story wouldn't work without it. you can still try to pay for food, but you're too broke so you just get it for free anyways

in any other game it'd feel like a cheap jab at the genre's quirks (despite the game falling into the same pitfalls), but isat isn't making fun of these tropes. it's just acknowledging them for what they are. and well.

here's what lies at the core of in stars and time: all of the grindy, miserable repetition of an rpg's endgame; optional conversations and sidequests that you won't gain anything from seeing; dying to the same boss over and over, and either fighting it again and again out of stubborn willpower or grinding on weaker enemies; cutscenes that you've already seen before and skip without a second thought; a path you cannot stray from, because you can not and will not choose to jump over that broken bridge.

and it's about revisiting that same story, again and again, because for all its flaws, you can't help but love it. it's about finally putting that game down when it stops bringing you joy. it's about how, even if you've moved on from something, the love you had for it was still real.

and it's about how you can still go back and revisit it, even if it's no longer the part of your life you wished it would always be.

[unstable-samurai]

Breathing This Calm Night - smut

Yunjin x Male Reader

ONE-SHOT

Tags: fluff, oral sex, one-shot, tightjob, penetration, k-idol, famous girl, secret relationship

A/n: This is my first request. Thanks @dav1233555 for the plot suggestion 🫡

The two of you were anxiously dragging yourself towards the end of the day. Slowly the hours passed, seeming to last longer than they should, while a hurried and hard routine was followed, with no time to even exchange a few messages.

But you were finally free, at least for now, from the mess that is a magazine of international relevance.

I am arriving

You read the message and smiled at the phone screen. It wasn't crowded at the restaurant you chose to have dinner at. You reflected for a moment, and thought there was a bit of madness in what you two were doing, but it was indisputable that it was genuine and pure.

Truth be told, this whole thing was real. And thinking that this could be a bit crazy (in other people's eyes, to be more precise) only made your panoramic view of society more bitter.

After all, what was so great about being a foreigner and dating a K-idol? Well, you weren't the guy who was going to change the view of an entire society, so worrying about it was useless.

At least there was some security that this relationship would not be leaked to the media. Well, you were in fact part of the fucking media. There was support from the magazine you worked for (not that you were the owner or anything), and at least no one on your team would poke your eye out. Some other editors you trust already knew about your relationship. It was one of the countless advantages of being in a high position in the company and having a strong influence on what happened inside. I mean, someone from the magazine could try to fuck with you, snakes exist everywhere, doing this in an attempt to self-promote or even abandon ship, handing over the leak of your relationship to another magazine or tabloid (in the headline the motherfuckers would find a way to use the word "affair", just because your previous relationship ended a month before you met Yunjin). But you would discover the funny guy so easily that there wouldn't even be any fun in solving the mystery. All it took was a single call to your father, simply the greatest editor-in-chief who worked at the magazine's headquarters. Already retired, but still exercising great decision-making power thanks to his long years of contributions to the magazine. Your old man was seen almost as a royal advisor or a wise monk where directors, managers and editors from various sectors of the magazine went to ask for advice and help. You were relatively shielded from leaks.

You noticed her approaching. Well disguised, with glasses, hair tied back and comfortable clothes. She looked like just another ordinary girl. You couldn't help but notice the NY Knicks sweatshirt you had given her as a gift, it was both of your favorite team.

She greeted you with a discreet hug. You still hadn't gotten used to the fact that you couldn't give a peck in public que in South Korea. In your perception, it was the most normal thing in the world.

"Hi, baby! How are you?" she asked you as she sat down at the table.

"Better now, honey. What about you?"

"The same!"

"Was the day as hard as always?" you asked.

"Definitely!" she replied. Yunjin seemed eager for this question. She continued, “In the morning I had rap class. By the way, I think I'm getting better. Oh, and in the afternoon I recorded my lines, like, over and over again. very specific of what he wants for this track. The music producer has a very specific vision of what he wants for this track. He apologized and admitted that it might take some time to achieve the desired result.”

"Well, I trust your talent. Remember that you and your group are dealing with a delicate concept. I have seen up close the production of albums that address intimate themes, it is always a challenge, but also a true work and certainly a amazing gift for the fans. You girls are going to do great."

Yunjin laughed, a little shyly.

"It feels like I'm talking to a music critic instead of my boyfriend."

"Well, you're actually talking to a music critic. Oh, by the way, I remembered that I won't be writing the article about Le Sserafim's new album like I said before."

Her expression was one of surprise. Yunjin asked:

"Is it because of me?”

"Yes." you answered honestly. “Well, look, love, I'm prioritizing our relationship and thinking about the future. If this is for real, eventually the press will hear about us together, and a review from me about my girlfriend's music group obviously it would make my opinion seem partial and biased. It's just to avoid future problems."

"Okay" She looked upset. "But I'll still want to know your opinion when you hear the album."

"I'm really looking forward to hearing it." You smiled, making her feel better. "I left the review about the new album for a good friend of mine to write. I really respect her opinion."

"I think we're in good hands. But let's stop talking about work for a bit!"

The waiter seemed to have heard Yunjin's speech as he appeared to save them right after she finished saying that. Yunjin had great taste in food, that's why she always chose the order for the two of you, you weren't the "culinary trailblazer" type; a few months in South Korea and you only knew five typical dishes (always returning to the arms of the big fast-food chains).

"Oh, I almost forgot to give you this!" You handed her a gift. "It had been on my lap for so long that I had forgotten I had brought it with me."

"Oh, baby! You didn't have to do that!"

She started to unwrap it.

"Hope you like."

You waited for her reaction. Yunjin smiled and made a cute little noise when she saw that it was a book (although she already knew from the shape of the gift wrap).

"You know I love reading! Thank you so much."

"It's The Alchemist. I know you love fantasy and this silly self-help thing. This book is a mix of both."

You saw her eyes light up.

"You're perfect. I love how well you know me. And self-help isn't silly, it's very good for evolving as a human being." she scolded you.

You shrugged.

"It's not the kind of thing I'd like to put on my bookshelf. But to each their own.”

She laughed.

"I'm still going to make you read one of these."

"Well, I've already read The Alchemist. And if I thought it was average, you'll think it's a masterpiece."

★

It was around 10pm when the two of you finally arrived at your apartment. Dinner was very good, especially dessert (that bingsu thing was really awesome), and by that night there was no more energy for more fun, it was preferable to have a good night's sleep so that the next day you could do something together. Even so, Yunjin hummed excitedly in the car on the way home. You appreciated all that joy.

You took off your shoes when Yunjin took off her NY Knicks sweatshirt, leaving only a tight tank top on her body. You noticed that she wasn't wearing a bra by the way her breasts showed through the fabric of her tank top. You slowly approached her and grabbed her from behind, kissing her repeatedly. Yunjin wrapped her hands around your neck as she giggled at the series of kisses.

“Will you be my teddy bear tonight?” she asked sweetly. “I need your affection so much, baby.”

“Whatever you need, sweetie.” You said as you kissed her on the neck.

Things were heating up. Your hands slid down Yunjin's soft belly, heavy sighs escaped her mouth unconsciously.

“Look, we still need to shower.” she said.

"No problem." you answered.

“You're putting me in the mood. I'm warning you that if you keep touching me like this, you're going to have to go all the way to finish what you started.”

“And since when has this been a problem for me?” you asked as you led her to the couch.

You took off your shirt and belt from your pants. Yunjin took off her jeans, leaving only her tank top and adorable pink panties. Your hand slid down Yunjin's left thigh while you kissed her right thigh. That was more than enough to give her goosebumps. She had her legs wide open, waiting, almost begging, for you to touch that place. Instead of doing it right away, you decided to play with her a little, kissing and biting her inner thigh while using one of your hands to lightly massage her pussy through her panties. Your lips slid to Yunjin's crotch, where you licked the entire area, she reveled in the act, trying hard not to close her legs with the spasms she was having. It didn't take long for a wet stain to darken the pink of the panties. When you finally removed Yunjin's panties, you saw how wet she was. So horny that she couldn't wait for you, fingering her pussy slowly, opening it with her fingers so you could see how drooling she was; a successful action of provoking you. Then you realized how hard your cock was, pulsing in your pants, painfully tight, which made you hornier.

Without wasting any more time, you dived between Yunjin's legs, eager to taste her (that flavor that was becoming increasingly familiar and addictive… Part of your life. Yeah, we could put it that way), your tongue delighting in the taste and the cozy warmth of the inside of her pussy, while Yunjin moaned softly, digging her nails into the sofa cushions.

“I love it when you suck me like that, baby. You make me feel so good!” she moaned.

At one point she asked to stop because her lust was unbearable and that way he would have an orgasm in a short time.

“I want to feel your cock inside me now.” she said. You had just taken off your underwear when she added, “Wait, what if we fuck in the bathroom. Let’s save time, what do you think?”

Your response was to lift her off the couch and take her to the bathroom. You turned on the light with your elbow and, before you could think of anything, she said:

“Fuck me like this! Your cock goes deep into my pussy when you fuck me in the air.”

You kissed her intensely while you tried to fit your dick into her pussy. The feeling of your cock sliding inside Yunjin was wonderful. Upon realizing that your cock was well placed inside her, you grabbed Yunjin's thighs tightly and began to thrust into her energetically while she held onto you, moaning compulsively.

And Yunjin was right, your dick went deep in that position. You could feel her deep inside, the entire length of your cock was being used, and she loved it. When she announced her orgasm, you wanted to make sure it was intense and pleasurable, the way it made her roll her eyes, so you lifted her a little higher, grabbing her ass, while Yunjin wrapped her legs inside your arms, making her practically hang from you and her pussy is completely inside your dick.

“Oh God, Baby! I’m cumming!”

She trembled holding onto you, while you practically rubbed her pussy on your dick, always rotating it close to your body. It was just a shame that you couldn't enjoy her eyes rolling back at the moment of orgasm, you simply loved seeing her go crazy with pleasure, but there was also a certain contentment in just knowing that it happened.

You sat Yunjin down on the sink and there you started fucking her again, looking deeply into her eyes. At one point she looked at you with so much passion, so much desire that there was a sudden growing desire to fill her pussy with your load of cum.

“Hang me, love.” she asked affectionately.

Her hand wrapped around just over half of her neck, serving as support to fuck her even harder. Sweat running down both bodies, your gaze was lost between the mirror's reflection, her eyes, her tits and her expressions of pleasure. With the sensations highlighted, you realized how much you loved Yunjin and how much this feeling contributed to eminent pleasure during sex.

Holy shit! You were almost there.

You thought about how much you wanted to go deep into this, literally to the end, but you were without a condom and suddenly stopping the act to go get a condom at the end of the championship was a bit... discouraging.

But you have an idea.

“Stand up, sweetie” you said. “Let’s try something new.”

Yunjin got out of the sink, looking at you excitedly.

“Get in the shower stall with me.” you asked, opening the door.

"What do you want to do?"

“It’s nothing out of this world, but it occurred to me that you’ve never given me a tightjob, I think it’s time we tried it.”

She had some assumptions about what this position was, but you helped her anyway. Yunjin was a rather tall girl, so there were no problems for your dick to fit between her thighs, the result was perfect, nothing uncomfortable. You thought about turning on the shower to lube up a little, but her pussy was so wet and the continuous sweat running down between her thighs was already more than great. You grabbed Yunjin's waist tightly and she crossed her legs a little, squeezing your dick.

You began to thrust into her, your cock sliding back and forth as you dragged Yunjin's labia. So you discovered in the best way that this was very pleasurable for both of you. The internal heat started inside you again and gradually you lost yourself in that exciting sensation. As you approached the final explosion, you bestially grabbed Yunjin in every way possible, sliding your sweat-damp hands down her belly, squeezing her breasts and slapping her ass. You lost yourself in the voluptuousness that was Yunjin's body and- Fuck! She loved it. She loved being your instrument of pleasure, knowing that the person she loved so much reached maddening peaks of passion, desire and lust for her. A juice of feelings for an insatiable thirst.

“Oh baby! I’m gonna cum! I’m gonna-”

Without any warning, Yunjin began to move her hips in a rhythm that immediately took you to the precipice of pleasure. The soft, hot, wet, suffocating skin of her thighs dancing over your cock. This was too much for you. When you came, you hugged Yunjin tightly, holding her as if your life depended on it, giving in to inconstant and uncontrollable moans close to her ear. The frantic thrusts lost their rhythm, going deeper and slower through Yunjin's thighs. She held your arms affectionately, waiting for your breathing to become less labored before kissing you.

"I love you." You said to her.

The phrase was so loaded with something that covered your feelings at that moment, and you wished she was the woman of your life and would never leave your side.

"I love you too!" said Yunjin when she found a way out of your tongue. “Baby, you don’t know how much.”

“This took longer than expected. Let’s take our shower.”

“Yep! Let's go."

You turned on the shower. The hot running water was invigorating, even more so being next to Yunjin, you didn't know that sharing certain intimacies was so special until you finally did it with her. you soaped Yunjin's entire body, she helped you wash your back and you shampooed her hair, gently massaging her scalp; it was cute how it relaxed her, she seemed so surrendered to you in that moment, and just a few months ago you were sitting across from her and the other Le Sserafim girls, asking incisive questions about the creative process of their latest album. That's where it all started, after all. And who could say where it would end?

“Hey, baby, let me shampoo your hair now.” Yunjin said with a goofy smile.

Nobody, you thought. Nobody could say.

A/n: sorry for any grammatical errors 😅

[ghoulphile]

no use cryin' over spilled milk | c.h./the ghoul

➥ pairing | cooper howard/the ghoul x f!reader ➥ word count | 2.8 k ➥ warning(s) | 🔞 smut; dirty talk, frottage, lactation kink, pregnant!reader, fingerfucking, praise kink, breast play, the ghoul calls reader pretty mama, he's a pervert who wants to lend a 'helping' hand ➥ summary | based off this ask; oops being an experiment from vault 4 where you may be the first rad resistant human pregnant with a possibly rad resistant baby, and you come across the ghoul who helps you get to a safe place but then he gets attached with you and the baby 🥺 (this is just me trying to insert a lactation kink somewhere i'm sorry) ➥ notes | uhhhh pls let me know if i missed anything, my brain is dribbling out my ears (its 3:44 am and i have work at 8 am rip) but the parasites persist. i'll do the tag list when i wake up ❤️ masterlist | feel free to send in thots, questions, requests! | feedback is always appreciated ❤️

Going topside wasn’t an easy decision.

In fact, bile bitter regret often lingers in the back of your throat - a lump that stifled the air in your lungs.

And while you might’ve been bioengineered to survive better under these harsh wasteland conditions, every time you find yourself in a less than ideal situation, you're catapulted headlong into paralyzing self doubt; alone and rudderless.

No one lives in the vaults - not truly.

Birdie (and the others) warned you of what awaited beyond those lead-lined walls. But you couldn’t abide spending the rest of your life trapped in a cage, albeit a gilded one.

Not anymore.

Oh no, you wanted to feel a real breeze instead of air pumped through the HVAC. Experience the sun baking warm into your skin like fresh bread instead of the artificial heat of the UV lamp used for mandatory light therapy sessions. Complain about the chafe of sand in your shoes and hear the crunch of dirt under foot instead of a hollow clunk of sterile metal.

To witness first hand all the sights, sounds, and smells this world offers. 

Only… you didn’t expect it to be this hard.

Nor did you expect to be pregnant when setting off into the great unknown on your own (a definite oversight on your part [you really shouldn’t have had one last hurrah before hitting the road]).

Through trial and error, motion sicknesses that swing into crippling nausea as manic energy - your first taste of true freedom! - dwindled into dragging fatigue, you found a happy medium. None of which would have been possible had it not been for the most unlikely of companions.

Ghouls; who knew, huh?

Sure, you’d heard of them from the rotating door of visitors that found themselves at Vault 4, but you’d never seen them. While you grew up surrounded by visible mutations, seeing the battlefield of his body was off putting; how a person could survive a patina of burns and patchwork slices without unraveling at the seams was beyond you.

And kind of frightening.

But he took it in stride, introducing himself as Ghoul. Refused to divulge anything else of substance no matter how much you poked and prodded.  His life pre-bomb was a complete mystery filled with plot holes and unanswered questions (which is exactly what he preferred).

You learned to be comfortable with his meandering conversations, and all the words he spoke that said much of nothing. And what you did glean, you did so through observation alone. 

He was alone - had been for a very long time.

He was very old - one of the last of his kind.

And he was, in his own way, very kind - at least by wasteland standards.

“The fuck you doin’?”

Pausing, you stop mid push and hover awkwardly on your hands and knees. The vault suit pulls taut across your hips, pinching behind your knees uncomfortably. Your toes squeak in your shoes, socks thoroughly soaked through with sweat.

It’s been unseasonably hot (or it’s the hormones). Whatever the case, this is the first semi-decent lodging you’ve camped in for weeks, and you’re not about to miss an opportunity to freshen up.

And maybe find a way to soothe the building ache in your tits - flesh swollen tender and nipples rubbed raw.

“I’m just, uh, gonna,” you motion towards the back of the house, the askew bathroom door clinging to its hinges by a corner, “y’know, f-freshen up. See if they don’t still have some water.”

The Ghoul scans you up and down, gimlet-eyed. “S’that so?”

You huff, your knees starting to ache.

Being five months pregnant throws your center of gravity for a loop, the atmosphere weighing extra heavy on your bones. It doesn’t help that the baby’s decided sitting directly on your bladder with a foot tucked under your ribs is the best position.

“Didn’t know I needed permission to take a piss now,” you snipe. Usually, you try to reign in the hormones but the day’s been too long and you’re in pain. Anyone would be a little snippy (right?). “Can I do that on my own or do you need to watch, Mr. Ghoul?”

A faint smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth, his gaze glinting from beneath the rim of his hat as he tips his head. “Better watch it, sweetheart,” he says. “Otherwise, I might have’ta wash your mouth out with soap.”

Pushing yourself up with a grunt, you determinedly ignore the raspy chuckle that follows as you waddle towards the bathroom. Cussing him out all the while in your mind.

While he’s been ‘nicer’ today - stopping for extra breaks, even packing it in several hours earlier than usual because he noticed how weary you looked - he’s still an asshole.

The toilet’s gone, the tub’s tipped sideways, the linoleum’s cracked, and closing the door sounds like a pack of howling mole rats but its functional. When you catch your reflection in the spider web fractures of the mirror, you grimace.

The wastes have certainly left their mark on you. Gone is the prim-and-proper vault dweller, replaced by a gremlin of a woman Overseer Benjamin would surely scowl at.

A true ‘surfie’ now.

“Great,” you groan, scrubbing a palm over your face. “Just - ugh!”

You’re caked in grime, a steak of dirt smeared across the bridge of your nose. Mysterious stains darken the blue fabric, the golden stripes of your suit an off-putting grey.

Your hair clumps in greasy chunks. You’re glossy with sweat, and while your curves have plumped up over the last few months, you didn’t realize just how much until now.

The vault suit’s always been tight - now it clings and creases in unflattering places. And there’s nothing you can do about it, unless the Ghoul is willing to spare a sewing kit.

You could let the waist out some…

What the hell am I gonna do if he won’t? There’s no way I’ll fit if this baby gets any bigger. Shit, I look like a fucking sausage. Your hand cradles the side of your stomach, stroking over the bump with a frown. This is all your fault, you little parasite.

“You better be so fucking cute - the cutest goddamn baby in the wasteland. Or I will riot.”

Tugging down the zipper over your breasts is heaven, the swollen flesh spilling out of the parting fabric, no longer compressed. It’s almost enough to make you cry as you struggle to tug the lycra off your shoulders, the fabric putting up a fight.

After some awkward contortions that pull uncomfortably at the muscles of your shoulder blades, you manage to wrangle yourself free.

The temptation to burn the stupid goddamn suit is almost too much to resist, but then you’d really be traipsing around the wasteland in the nude and just… no.

Peeling off your undershirt is another story altogether, the soft cotton feeling like sandpaper as it scrapes over sensitive skin. Your nerves tingle with awareness, bolts of pain shooting through your nipples with every shift.

Quick like a bandaid, you think, taking a steadying inhale.

It’s a miracle you don’t scream.

Tears cling to your lashes, your nose running as you toss the shirt to the side with one hand and cradle your chest with the other. Sure, you’ve had tenderness with your period but this kind of pain? A whole new level.

You almost don’t know what to do with yourself.

How is this fair - aren’t you suffering enough?

Sniffling, you peer down at your tits and gingerly cup them with your palms. Swollen hard and warm to the touch; a heavy weight crushing your ribs.

Do I really have to milk myself like a fucking brahmin? Another bolt of lightning crackles through your nerve endings as if in response. Fine. God, this is embarrassing.

Only any attempt at touching your nipples produces pure agony, shards of glass biting into delicate skin.

No matter how slight your touch, no matter how gentle your fingers - it doesn’t work. Leaves you more distraught and in pain than when you began as inflamed nerve endings crackle and burn.

And when the tears truly start, the dam breaks. It’s not long before they drip down your cheeks in fat rivulets, your breath hitching from you in pathetic little exhales.

Your fist shoves against your mouth in an attempt to smother the sounds, teeth sinking into your knuckle until you leave sore indents.

But you should know better, not only does the Ghoul have heightened senses (he’s taunted you constantly with this fact like the asshole he is), but he’s uncannily perceptive in a very annoying way.

You don’t hear the squeal of the door, but you do sense his presence behind you; the rad warm burn of his body as he stops a scant few inches away. You feel his breath against the nape of your neck, the barest brush of his chest as he inhales.

“You ready ta stop bein’ stubborn?” he hums. “I thought I told you not ta wait s’long.”

Your voice warbles from you, “G’way.” You curl into yourself, shoulders hunching as you hang your head. “Don’t need your help.”

The Ghoul snorts. “Cuz you doin’ so well on your own, huh?”

“I resent that.” You shoot him a weak glare, the animosity ruined by the crumble of your lips. “I really, really do.”

You hate always having to rely on him, so desperate to prove that you can take care of yourself only to have every effort to do so thrown back in your face.

Shit, you hate how right Birdie was, “Honey, you won’t last five minutes on your own. Please stay here with us where it’s safe.”

“Well, maybe so. But pickers can’t be choosers, sweetheart,” he shrugs with a languid roll of the shoulders. “Ain’t no use cryin’ over spilled milk. C’mon, the longer you wait, the worse it’s gon be.”

“I just - you don’t understand…”

He reaches around you to set his hat on the sink, the dwindling light of twilight creeping in through the holes in the roof to bathe him in its bloody light.

He looks like a grotesque demon that clawed its way from the depths of hell. It gets your pulse thudding, electric awareness an unwelcome visitor as it roosts behind your navel.

“I understand plenty. Now, let me.”

Not an offer - not really.

More akin to a demand, one wrapped up pretty like a gift. You’ve been here many times before, and while the Ghoul proffers his help under the guise of not wanting to hear your bitching and moaning, the hungry gleam of his eyes as they rake over your face say otherwise.

If it’s one thing you’ve learned in your travels with him, it’s this: he is entirely self-serving. He offers because he wants to suck on a set of pretty tits. If you happen to cream your panties while he does, well, he counts it as a win-win.

Quid pro quo.

And what you hate more than how utterly correct everyone is about life on the surface, is how needy he makes you. How desperate and dumb and dripping he’s got you by the end, drunk off the flick of his tongue and the rasp of his touch.

Because it’s so hard to be strong in the face of pain when the solution is right there; open-palmed.

“...Fine, just don’t - don’t leave marks this time, okay?”

A slow waking smile creaks across his face, and he says, “I ain’t makin’ any promises, sweetheart.”

Your stomach swoops, and your thighs clench.

Shit.

Scarred lips work over tender flesh as a talented tongue flicks and swirls over the bumps of your areola, the tip digging into your nipple and drawing the swollen nub into a hot mouth. You whimper, arms tossed over the Ghoul’s broad shoulders.

Cold ceramic digs into the base of your spine, your body crowded back against the sink as he plasters himself to your front. Cuts off any escape routes and refuses to let you squirm away from the overwhelming sensations as he suckles.

Heavy palms grope at the plush curves of your hips, fingertips digging into the fat.

His lips pop off your nipple with a sticky smack. “Always taste s’fucking good,” he groans against your sternum. “Got the prettiest set a tits in the wasteland.”

“Hnn! N-Not so hard.”

While you say that, you don’t mean it - not really. Your pussy throbs in time with your heartbeat, clit swollen and aching for friction. Your inner thighs are a mess of slick, your vault suit caught around your knees.

He never touches you below the waist directly (some boundaries still exist between you two), but at this point in your pregnancy, you’re so sensitive a gentle breeze could set you off.

“Heh, ain’t you know lyin’s a sin?” he says.

A scarred cheek drags over the swell of your breast, the rasp of rad burn alighting your nerves. Bolts of desire ricochet down your spine, fizzle like Nuka Cola on your tongue. He presses an open mouth kiss to your nipple, his tongue flicking out to massage the tender bud.

At the taste of your skin, his cock twitches where its grinding against your thigh. You feel him through his ragged pinstripe slacks, his shaft a thick line of heat.

It’s probably the hormones (you refuse to admit its anything else) but just the thought of touching him, of sinking down onto his erection - feeling how fucking good he’d stretch you out and fill you up - makes you dizzy.

You pant, your voice distinctly whiny when you say, “Please, d-do something. It still hurts.”

His grin reminds you of the mongrels roaming the wastelands. “Sh,” he hushes you. “I got you, sweetheart.”

The tips of his fingers brush along the side of your swollen stomach. Your heart flips in your chest, your breath catching as he follows the contours of your body, reaching down to brush over the skin of your mound. This is new, he’s never done this before. It’s simultaneously as arousing as it is terrifying.

“Can smell how wet you are for me,” he says, tone low and gruff. “You gonna be a good girl for me, ain’t you?”

“I-”

Then his mouth is slurping at your tit, his teeth biting down on your nipple gently as those strong fingers dip between your thighs. Blunt nails scratch through your pubic hair, a calloused pad swirling circles around your slippery clit. Your hips jump, your head rolling back between your shoulders as a loud moan rips itself from your throat.

You arch back so far your belly presses against the Ghoul’s, your tits smothering his face.

You think, half deliriously, it’s a good thing he doesn’t have a nose otherwise you might’ve broken it.

“Shit, that’s so - oh, fuck, please, please, please!’

Your legs widen to make room for his hand as yours fly up to grab his biceps, nails biting into the rough leather of his duster.

His tongue flutters across your areola. “C’mon, pretty mama, give it ta me.”

“Oh.” Sparks dance behind your eyes, your knees shaking as the Ghoul strokes over your folds, tests your wetness and the give of your cunt as he plays with your entrance. “Right there,” you gasp. “I’m gonna…”

He grunts, tugging on your nipple with his teeth.

The sharp bite of pain shoots through you, deepens the kindling warmth behind your navel that steadily builds and builds and builds. You feel on the very edge, nerves plucked like the keys of a piano.

So close you can taste it.

Then a tingling starts in the tips of your fingers.

Burns its way up your arms to settle in the weight of your chest, pins and needles pricking across the skin of your tits, lancing through the swollen buds of your nipples.

You tremble, the relief bringing tears to your eyes as tears the heaviness releases in a warm flood, your milk letting down to flow into the Ghoul’s eagerly pulling mouth.

“Fuckin’ finally,” he moans, chasing after the taste by nuzzling into your chest. His cock ruts against you. “Took you’re sweet damn time, didn’t you, darlin’?”

Your head spins, hazy thoughts scattering like confetti.

Endorphins simmer through your veins as you float on a cloud of cotton softness. Reality seems worlds away, your vision blurry as you focus on the points of contact between your bodies. The stretch of his fingers plunging into your pussy to stroke over the front wall.

Mouth slack, your hands creep up the Ghoul’s arms to trace over the sides of his neck, watch the dance of your fingers over his skin. “It feels s’good,” you slur. “Please don’t stop - wanna cum just like this.”

“Heh, wouldn’t dream of it.”

[pinkflower2003]

Hii idk if you write for Seb Vettel so you can change this if you want, but can u write a fic set in 2011 where the reader and Seb have been quietly dating for a while unknown to the public but Seb is too focused on trying to win and so he breaks up with her,, but plot twist!!! Fernando who has had a crush on her since they met consoles her and they end up publicly together in the end while Seb regrets the breakup and dedicates his 2011 WDC to her 😼😼😼

At What Cost?

Sebastian Vettel x reader, Fernando Alosno x reader

a/n: thank you so this request sweetheart! I hope i’ve done this justice for you💗

ask berry (thats me!)🍓

The noise of the Formula 1 paddock was a cacophony of engines, voices, and the subtle hum of anticipation that buzzed before a race weekend. It was here, amidst the fast-paced world of racing, that you found yourself entangled in a relationship with none other than Sebastian Vettel. Your love story with Seb had begun quietly, away from the prying eyes of the media and fans.

You had met Sebastian during the 2010 season when he was emerging as a formidable force in the world of Formula 1. He was charming, intelligent, and his passion for racing was contagious. Over time, your paths crossed more frequently, and what started as casual conversations about racing evolved into late-night talks and secret rendezvous. Before long, you were in a relationship, hidden from the world but very real to both of you.

Sebastian had a singular focus: winning. His drive and determination were part of what drew you to him, but as the 2011 season progressed, his focus shifted entirely to securing his second World Drivers' Championship. You understood the pressure he was under, the weight of expectations from his team, his sponsors, and himself. But it left little room for your relationship, which began to feel like a distant second to his racing career.

———

It was a rainy evening in June when Sebastian finally broke the news to you. The European Grand Prix was just days away, and he was more stressed than you'd ever seen him. You had been supportive, understanding, trying to be the anchor he needed amidst the storm of his career. But it wasn’t enough.

"I'm sorry," he said, his voice barely audible over the rain pounding against the window of his Monaco apartment. "I can't do this anymore."

You stared at him, unable to comprehend his words. "What do you mean, Seb? What are you saying?"

"I need to focus on winning the championship. I can't afford any distractions, and… and this, us… it's a distraction." His eyes were filled with a mixture of pain and determination.

"Seb, I'm not asking you to choose between me and racing. I just want to be there for you, to support you," you pleaded, tears streaming down your face.

"I know, and I appreciate that more than you can imagine. But right now, I can't give you what you deserve. It's not fair to you," he said, his voice breaking. "I'm so sorry."

The breakup was swift and brutal. Sebastian's need for focus on his career left no room for compromise. You left his apartment, your heart shattered, the rain mingling with your tears as you walked away from the man you loved.

The days that followed were a blur of pain and confusion. You avoided the paddock as much as possible, not wanting to face the constant reminders of Sebastian. It was during this time that Fernando Alonso, a fierce competitor on the track and someone you had known for years, reached out to you. Fernando had always been kind to you, and while you knew he was a rival to Seb, you never expected the depth of his concern for you.

Fernando found you sitting alone in the quiet corner of the team's hospitality area at the British Grand Prix. "Hey," he said softly, sitting down beside you. "How are you holding up?"

You looked at him, surprised by his presence. "I'm… managing," you replied, your voice shaky.

"I heard about what happened with Seb," Fernando said gently. "I'm really sorry."

"Thank you, 'Nando. It's been hard," you admitted, feeling a sense of relief at finally being able to talk about it.

Fernando's support was unwavering. He listened as you poured out your heart, his empathy and understanding providing a balm to your wounded soul. Over the next few weeks, Fernando became a constant presence in your life. He made you laugh, offered a shoulder to cry on, and slowly, you found yourself healing.

———

As the summer of 2011 progressed, your bond with Fernando deepened. You were hesitant at first, unsure if you were ready to open your heart again so soon. But Fernando was patient, never pushing you beyond what you were comfortable with. He was the opposite of Sebastian in many ways – where Seb was intense and focused, Fernando was relaxed and easygoing. Yet, he shared the same passion for racing that had initially drawn you to Seb.

One evening, after a particularly exhilarating race in Monza, Fernando took you out for a quiet dinner away from the crowds. The Italian night was warm, the atmosphere electric from the day's events.

"You know," Fernando began, his eyes reflecting the candlelight, "I've liked you for a long time. Even when you were with Seb, I couldn't help but admire you."

You looked at him, stunned by his confession. "Fernando, I… I don't know what to say."

"You don't have to say anything," he said, taking your hand in his. "I just wanted you to know how I feel. I understand if you're not ready for anything more. I'm here for you, no matter what."

Tears welled up in your eyes, but this time they were tears of gratitude and hope. "Thank you, Fernando. You've been amazing, and I… I think I might be ready to try again. With you."

Fernando's smile lit up the room, and he leaned in to kiss you gently. It was a new beginning, a chance to move forward and find happiness again.

By the time the season was winding down, your relationship with Fernando was no longer a secret. The media had picked up on the chemistry between you two, and the fans were buzzing with speculation. You both decided it was time to go public.

At the Abu Dhabi Grand Prix, you stood by Fernando's side, hand in hand, as he faced the press. The questions were inevitable, and Fernando handled them with grace and confidence.

"Yes, we are together," he confirmed, smiling at you. "And I'm very happy."

The announcement was met with a flurry of reactions, but the overwhelming support from the racing community was heartwarming. For the first time in months, you felt a sense of peace and contentment.

———

Sebastian Vettel clinched the 2011 World Drivers' Championship with a dominant performance. It was everything he had worked for, everything he had sacrificed for. But as he stood on the podium, the champagne spraying around him, there was a hollow feeling in his chest.

He had won, but at what cost?

Sebastian watched as Fernando celebrated with you, the two of you radiating happiness. It was then that he realized what he had truly lost. He had thought he needed to push everything else aside to achieve his dreams, but in doing so, he had pushed away the person who had supported him the most.

When the time came for his championship speech, Sebastian took a deep breath, his mind racing with thoughts of you. "This championship means the world to me," he began, his voice steady. "But there's someone who I owe a great deal of thanks to, someone who isn't here with me today. She was my rock, my support, and I didn't appreciate her enough. This championship is dedicated to her. I hope she knows how much she meant to me."

As his words echoed through the room, a hush fell over the crowd. You watched from the sidelines, your heart heavy with emotion. Sebastian's regret was palpable, and while you appreciated his dedication, you knew that your path had taken a different turn.

———

Life moved on, as it always does. You continued to support Fernando, traveling with him to races and standing by his side. Your relationship blossomed, built on mutual respect, understanding, and love. You knew that Fernando would always have your back, just as you had his.

Sebastian, meanwhile, focused on his career. He had learned a hard lesson about balance and the importance of cherishing those who support you. While he regretted how things had ended with you, he found solace in knowing that you were happy.

The 2011 season ended, and a new one began. You stood in the paddock, your hand entwined with Fernando's, ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead. The future was uncertain, but you were no longer afraid. You had found love again, and this time, you knew it was built to last.

As the cars roared to life on the track, you felt a sense of excitement and anticipation. The world of Formula 1 was unpredictable and thrilling, much like your own journey. But no matter what happened, you knew you had found your place – not just as the partner of a racing driver, but as someone who was loved and valued for who you were.

And that was worth more than any championship.

[astrocafecoffee]

✨Your Past Life 🌌✨

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~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~✨ For entertainment purposes only, enjoy ✨

💫 what to check??

- check your south node in your natal chart, which house it falls in. It can give you insight about your past life as South node represents past experiences, patterns, and talents that an individual brings into their current life from previous incarnations.

Leshh go!! 🍂

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✨ South node in 1st house:

- sn in 1st house suggests that themes related to self identity, personal expression and the physical body may have been significant in past lives.

- you may have been highly independent, assertive, and self reliant, perhaps even to the point of being self centred or overly concerned with your own needs.

- you might have been a leader or pioneer in some way, forging your own path and asserting your individuality in the world.

- may also have struggled with issues of egob, self absorption or tendency to prioritise your own interest above others.

- in past incarnations you might have cultivated skills related to physical expression, such as athleticism, dance or physical charisma. You may have been known for your appearance, charm or ability to make a strong impression on others.

- in your current life you may be called to balance your focus on the self with a greater awareness of the needs and feeling of others. You may be learning to cultivate humility, empathy and a deeper understanding of your interconnectedness with the world around you.

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✨ South node in 2nd house:

- sn in 2nd house suggests that themes related to material possessions, values, self worth and resources may have been significant in past lives.

- in past lives you may have been deeply entrenched in the material world, attaching your sense of self worth and security to external factors such as wealth, possessions or status.

- you may have been involved in occupations or pursuits related to finance, banking or real estate or other areas where material resources were central.

- challenges related to attachment to material possessions, possessiveness or a sense of entitlement.

- may struggled with issues of greed, insecurity or a fear of loss , leading to difficulties in relationships or an inability to find true fulfillment beyond material wealth.

- in your current life you may be called to reassess your values and priorities recognising that true abundance and security come from within rather than from external sources.

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✨ South node in 3rd house:

- sn in 3rd house suggests that themes related to communication, learning, siblings, and early education may have been significant in past lives.

- you may have been highly intellectual, curious,and articulate with a natural talent for expressing yourself through writing, speaking or teaching.

- in past lives you may have been a scholar , writer, teacher, or traveler, engaging in pursuits that allowed you to share your wisdom and insights with others.

- you might have had close relationship with your siblings or peers who served as intellectual companions or rivals , encouraging you to excel in your pursuits of knowledge and learning.

- you may have experienced difficulties in forming deep emotional connections with others or may have struggled with issues related to gossip, rumours or miscommunication.

- there may have been a tendency to get caught up in petty disagreements.

- in your current life you may be called to balance your intellectual pursuits with a deeper understanding of the importance of emotional connection and empathy in your relationships.

- trust your intuition and communicate with others from a place of authenticity and compassion rather than purely from a rational or analytical perspective.

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✨ South node in 4th house:

- with sn in 4th house you likely had past lives where family dynamics played a significant role. This could manifest in various ways , such as being deeply attached to your family, experiencing challenges within the family structure or being heavily influenced by your ancestral lineage.

- there might have been past life experiences where you struggled with issues of nurturing and security. This could involve experiences of abandonment, neglect or lack of emotional support within your family environment.

- past life experiences may have involved repeating certain family patterns or dynamics that have been passed down through generations. This pattern could be both positive and negative, and part of your soul's journey In this lifetime may involve breaking free from any destructive cycles.

- there may be unresolved ancestral wounds or traumas that you carry from past lives, which could manifest as subconscious fears, phobias, or patterns of behaviour. Working on healing these wounds can lead to greater emotional freedom an spiritual growth in this lifetime.

- you may have been involved in occupations like family business or inheritance or home related occupations.or nursing, counciling or social work.

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✨ South node in 5th house:

- with sn in 5th house in your past life you were a vibrant and creative soul. You may have been a artist, a performer or someone who radiated charisma and enthusiasm wherever you went.

- your love life was like a grand epic , filled with passionate romances and intense emotional experiences. You may have been involved in dramatic love affairs, where the highs were euphoric and the lows plunged you into depths of despair.

- children may have also played a significant role in your past life, whether as a devoted parent or a beloved mentor, you cherished the youthful exuberance and innocence they brought into your life.

- however your attachment to fame, pleasure and the pursuit of momentary happiness may have led you astray at times, causing you to lose sight of your deeper purpose and spiritual fulfillment.

- now in this lifetime you may find yourself naturally drawn to avenues of creativity, romance and self expression, but there's also a deeper calling within you , urging you to seek spiritual growth and fulfillment on a soul level.

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✨ South node in 6th house:

- sn in 6th house suggests that in past life you might have been someone deeply involved in service or work that revolved around healing, health, or caretaking in some form. perhaps you were a dedicated healer, herbalist, or even a doctor, working tirelessly to help others overcome illness and ailments. Your daily life might have been structured around your work.

- however, despite your Nobel intentions there might have been a tendency to become overly fixated on the details or to be overly critical of yourself and others. Maybe you struggled with perfectionism or a sense of never feeling like you were doing enough. This could even led to feelings of frustration or even burnout over time.

- in this lifetime, the challenge for you is to find a balance between serving others and taking care of yourself, and to learn to let go of the need for perfection and self criticism.

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✨ South node in 7th house:

- sn in 7th house suggests that in past lives you may have focused a lot on partnerships , relationships, and one-on-one interactions.

- your past life may have been marked by experiences of intense emotional connections with others as well as lessons around compromise, negotiation and learning to see things from different perspectives.

- at times, you may have also faced difficulties in asserting your own needs and boundaries within your relationship, leading to feelings of resentment or imbalance. This could have resulted in patterns of seeking validation and approval from others, rather than cultivating a strong sense of self worth and autonomy.

- in this lifetime, you may drawn to experiences that echo these past life themes. You may place a strong emphasis on your relationships and partnerships , seeking to create harmonious and fulfilling connection with others. The challenge for you is to learn from the lessons of your past lives and to find a healthy balance between your own needs and those of others.

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✨ South node in 8th house:

- in your past life, you might have been someone who delved deeply into the mysteries of life ,death and the human psyche. You may have been drawn to occult practices, esoteric knowledge or healing modalities that focused on the transformation of the self and others.

- you may have also been involved in situations where you had to navigate complex power dynamics , shared resources or inheritances.

- managing other's finances or dealing with issues related to debt, or taxes.at times , you may also grappled with feelings of possessiveness or obsession particularly in your relationships or dealings with other resources.

- in this lifetime the challenge for you is to learn from the lessons of your past lives and to find a healthy balance between intensity and detachment, depth and surface and empowerment and surrender.

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✨ South node in 9th house:

- in your past life, you might have been someone who was deeply engaged in the pursuit of knowledge and wisdom. You may have been a philosopher, teacher, scholar, or traveler who dedicated your life to seeking truth and understanding the deeper mysteries of existence.

- at times , you may have also struggled with issues related to dogma or rigid belief systems, perhaps feeling torn between your quest for truth and the pressures to conform to societal norms or expectations.

- In this lifetime you may find yourself drawn to experiences that echo these past life themes. The challenge for you to learn from the lessons of your past lives and to find a balance between seeking knowledge and embodying wisdom. This might involve cultivating a deeper sense of inner knowing and intuition as well as learning to integrate the lessons from your past experiences into your present journey.

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✨South node in 10th house:

- sn in 10th house suggests that in your past life you might have been someone who was deeply ambitious and driven to succeed in your chosen field. You may have pursued a career or vocation that allowed you to attain a position of authority,power or prominence in society.

- your identity and sense of self-worth may have been closely tied to your achievements and public reputation leading you to prioritise your career above all else.

- at times you may have also struggled with issues related to authority or responsibility perhaps feeling overwhelmed by the pressures of leadership or the expectations placed upon you by others.

- in this lifetime you may find yourself drawn to experiences that echo these past live things. you may have a strong drive to succeed in your career or to achieve recognition and status in your chosen field. Challenge for you is to learn from the lessons of your past life and to find a balance between ambition and inner fullfilment, this might involve redefining success on your own terms and cultivating a sense of purpose that goes beyond external achievements.

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✨South node in 11th house:

- sn in 11th house suggests that in your past life you might have been someone who was highly engaged in social or collective movements aimed at bringing about positive change in society. you may have been a member of various groups, organisations, or networks that were focused on promoting equality, justice or humanitarian causes.

- you may have been drawn to causes that aligned with your values and beliefs,whether they were related to political activism, social reform, environmental conservation or other forms of advocacy. - at times you might have also struggle with issues related to group dynamics or a loss of individual identity we the largest social movements. this could have led to experiences of disillusionment or betrayal as well as lessons around maintaining autonomy and integrity while working towards collective goals.

- in this lifetime, the challenge for you is to find a balance between your individual goals and the needs of the collective. this might involve cultivating a deeper sense of self awareness and authenticity as well as learning to navigate group dynamics with wisdom and discernment.

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✨South node in 12th house:

- sn in 12th house suggests that in your past life you might have been someone who spend a significant amount of time in seclusion or retreat perhaps as a monk, hermit or spiritual seeker.

- you may have been deeply attuned to the inner workings of the subconscious mind and spend much of your time exploding the depts of your own psyche through meditation, contemplation or others regional practices.

- you may have struggled with feelings of confusion, disillusionment or even Paranoia as you grappled with the shadow expects of your own psyche and the collective unconscious.these could have led to experiences of self undoing or essence of being lost in the vastness of The spiritual realms.

- in this lifetime the challenge for you is to find a balance between spiritual transcendence and grounded presence in the material world. this might involve integrating the insights and wisdom gained from your spiritual experiences into your everyday life as well as learning to navigate the depes of your own psyche with courage and compassion.

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That's it guys,hope you enjoyed 🌜💫

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[bnhours]

Adorable - Kento Nanami

- Warning: Ig none? *Smut*

"So cute." He said in awe. Your chest was heavy as you tried to catch your breath, your eyelids filled with desire. Your eyes didn't even leave each other’s for a second, this moment was only between the two of you, the world around you no longer existed.

His hands tightened against your thighs and ass for a short moment before he abruptly let go of you. Unconsciously, you grabbed his hand, as you felt like he was going to leave. Your sudden action surprised him slightly, but he smiled softly at you, reassuring your worries.

“Don’t worry, I wasn’t going to leave you.” He reassured you gently, knowing you better than anybody else. He knew how you were, easily worried, the fear of abandonment always lingering inside you. But that made you the most precious being in his eyes, like a treasure in his hands. He nodded at you, silently warning you that he was just going to take something, which he did causing your grip around his forearm to loosen.

He thought you were so adorable. Your pupils dilated with yearn, but also with hope, your cheeks slightly pink and your breathing heavy, stifled by the tension compressing the room. Everything about you made him melt, made him think that being around people wasn't so bad after all. That is, if those ‘people’ were you and only you.

Every evening, every time you found yourself in his bed again, Nanami regretted less and less having you by his side, feeling you deliciously tighten around him and feeling your delicate body against his. Having you all naked and vulnerable beneath him was his greatest reward, better than any victory.

You were the only reward he wanted to have and keep. Engrave preciously in his mind, but also elsewhere. He loved taking pictures of you, but mostly of you together. It reminded him that you were his, only his. He always wanted to have different types of photos saved in his phone. Some innocents, others more sinful, filthier, that he could admire without embarrassment when he found himself alone.

"What are you doing?" You asked softly, intrigued, when you saw him grab his phone and place it right behind you.

“Just taking a little souvenir.” He bit his lip as he felt your breasts against him and your ass lifting slightly, exposing even more of your beautiful dripping pussy to him through your panties. You were so understanding, it was one thing he loved the most about you. He put his phone on the table and grabbed your ass roughly, so much so that you felt his fingers against your pussy, spreading it deliciously. “Perfect, don’t move.”

He grinned foully at you, capturing this hot moment. He stood there for a few seconds staring at the picture he took with a dirty smirk on his face. But you shattered his reverie when you began to slowly move your hips, moaning softly to get his attention. And you succeed, in an instant you found yourself in the same position as before; him leaning over you, with your legs thrown over his shoulders and his fingers digging into the sensitive parts of your thighs. You threw your head back when you felt him give you a deep, harsh fake thrust, giving him enough access for him to place deep kisses in the crook of your neck, causing another moan to escape from between your lips.

"Sorry, baby. You looked so beautiful like that that I wanted to mark this moment." He whispered in your ear, dispelling any worry that was still in the back of your mind. “Now we can get to real business”

[dcxdpdabbles]

Royal Consort? 🥺🥺

The worst part about knowing there was danger on the way was acting like everything was fine. Danny found it very annoying that instead of going through the guests individually to find the key for the invading forces, he had to dance with his future self.

Danny was pulled into a fast-paced Viennese Waltz by his future self. (He would call him Phantom since it was easier in his mind. No way could Future him have the right to be a Danny when he came dressed like King Phantom)

The two dazzled everyone by their skill. It was one of the few things Princess Dora could beat into his head when Danny had been crowned. Shockingly, Pointdexter was the ghost that took his mediocre skills and sharpened them to a level that Danny had once considered competing with.

Danny considered Pointdexter one of the best dancers to ever live. This was one reason his classmates were so cruel.

The two became fast friends after he defeated Pariah Dark, especially when Danny stumbled over the ghost version of Casper High. It seemed Pointdexter's soul was trapped in his old torment, and his classmates—the real ones from life—were still bothering him after their mirror fight.

Danny beat the 1950s teenagers and freed Pointdexter, finally removing him from his bullies. He had the teen relocate to the King's castle as his Lair Manager, where he was tasked with caretaking Pariah Dark's castle.

This, unfortunately, was done after Danny had taken the Royal Consort necklace, so his lair manager was not able to stop him from wearing it. It did make sense now why Pointdexter mentioned more than once that he was "rather vain to love yourself that much, Dano".

He just thought it was weird 50s lingo.

Phantom couldn't be that far into the future—not if they still looked so much alike—the only difference was that he was an inch or two shorter. If anything, he would guess this Danny Fenton, in all his Kingly attire, was a year or two from the current day.

He wanted all the information Phantom could give him, but sadly, the other was just as in the dark of tonight's events. The only real clue they had was what Phantom experienced.

Sometime around midnight, someone would activate the key—a rectangular tool with a loud boom when it was turned on. The tool tore apart Wayne Manor as it blew the roof away, and the invading forces were teleported to Earth.

It quickly overran Gotham, even with the Bats arriving almost instantaneously, and the aliens made quick work of the rest of the world. The Justice League responded quickly, too, and soon, it was an all-out war with planet Earth as the battlefield.

Millions of lives were lost in the battle that first night. Batman was killed around 2 a.m., followed by Superman—who was helping hold off the main mother ship—at 5 a.m. The Justice League put up their best effort, but it soon became clear they were outmatched.

The following months saw humans scrambling to fight while countries were destroyed one by one. Their armies conquered, their heroes fell in battle, and the humans were either enslaved or killed. It seemed Earth had earned a reputation in faraway galaxies.

Humans or anyone from Earth were deemed exotic pets. The aliens had come to poach them.

They had blocked all communication with Earth's allies, including the Green Lantern Corp and New Genesis, not wanting anyone to interfere with their hunt. They also decided that the resources from Earth were of enough quality to take over the planet and rip it apart to sell to the highest bidder.

The aliens came in never-ending waves no matter how many Earthlings managed to kill, forcing humanity to flee underground.

In only a short while, Earth was picked clean.

In a low, anger-coated voice, Phantom said he had just finished a mission to rescue humans from a breeding center. He had helped them escape to Ghost Zone, which had become one of the few forces keeping humans safe. His army had torn apart the galaxies to find the stolen humans when Clockwork offered him a chance to fix everything.

Danny wanted to ask so much more, but with the gala attendees watching their every move, they figured they should discuss it less, even in Ghost Dialect.

Phantom had pulled Danny into a secluded location to hiss his explanation, but it was only a few minutes before Tim Drake Wayne found them. Danny wasn't sure why, but the other teen seemed determined to speak to Phantom.

It didn't help the Waynes that Phantom already suspected them and was very hostile whenever Tim opened his mouth. If the Waynes were innocent, that could lead to a problem later, but for now, Danny could only glare at Tim.

Phantom said that the person who turned it on had stuck the rectangular device to Jazz's back, using her body as a gateway. That meant someone in this crowd would approach his sister to turn her into a sacrificial lamb.

King Phantom had already warned her—under the disguise of dancing with her to honor Danny's family. He had even danced with his parents and one with Dani—but Jazz had insisted on staying. She theorized that if she left the gala early with Dani, as Phantom had wanted, someone else would become the gateway.

The aliens would attack no matter what, and removing her would take away concrete information.

Danny and Phantom did not like it, but both agreed with her logic. They didn't even know who had betrayed humanity- whether it was voluntary.

It was barely nine-twenty. The suspense was killing Danny.

"Mind if I cut in?" A silky voice appeared at their side. Danny turned to find a woman standing at their side. She was gorgeous and held herself in a way that let the world know she was aware of this fact.

She leans over slightly so her cleavage is on display, resting an arm on Phantom's shoulder. Her smirk sharpens when Phantom drops to her hand as he lets his hold on Danny slip.

Phantom reaches up to fling her hand away. His voice overlaps with thousands of others, sending a shiver down the spine of anyone who hears it. "Don't touch me."

Danny gapes alongside the woman as Phantom twists around and waltzes them away.

"Dude, what was that?"

"We don't have time for her or anyone who wants to replace you as my husband," Phantom hisses, though his expression remains ever so loving as he swings them about. Danny matches him step by step, ignoring the gaping crowd. "The Waynes are watching us, and half the venue has asked Jazz for a dance. Dani even more so."

The two glance toward Dani, who is in an equally fast-paced Viennese Waltz with Damian Wayne. She seems to be purposely stepping on his feet. There is a line of young, influential boys waiting for their turn.

It seems they all believe this is a chance to get married to the princess of the dead. It seemed half the Gotham elites believed Phantom would go for an arranged marriage for his daughter.

Fools them.

"We still have hours before midnight. Dancing with or talking to other people would be a good idea, so try to find the key," Danny whispers to him. "You've only danced with me since you arrived. I know it's for your King Phantom image, but we can't-"

Tim Drake Wayne slides up next to them, dancing with the air and keeping pace with their movement. Both halfas blink as Wayne smiles at them brightly, looking at ease for someone acting so ridiculous. "Hello again."

Danny and Phantom keep dancing, and Danny replies with a confused hesitation. "Hey....what are you doing?"

" Nothing much! Just...ugh love this song. Couldn't find a partner so-"

"Dance with Phantom," Danny is quick to say, ignoring the way Phantom's eyes start to glow. He is done with pretending there isn't a problem. He will find that key with or without future him's help.

He pulls himself away- ignoring the hiss growing in the back of Phantom's throat. He didn't know he could do that- and tugs the alarmed-looking human into the King's arms.

"Darling." Phantom's voice is low in warning. Knowing the crowd is still watching even more openly now, Danny turns his nose up.

"I'm tired, Phantom. Dance with Wayne here since you couldn't keep your eyes off him!"

He storms away, ignoring Wayne's choked "King Phantom, I am so sorry for causing this misunderstanding. I swear I am not trying to upset the Consort or come between you two."

He disappears into the crowd that part for him, pretending to be so blinded by jealous rage that he does not notice the way he is going. Danny finds a hallway out of the gala and goes into Wayne Manor.

Now then. Danny thinks Let's see what the Waynes are hiding.

Meanwhile, Bruce drags a hand down his face, watching King Phantom's face twist as Tim babbles before him. "I told him not to upset the King."

[autball]

Part 1 of a 5 part series about the ways harmful practices are being made to sound more appealing through the co-opting of language and how to spot the differences between helpful and harmful approaches.

The language of the Neurodiversity Paradigm is soooo hot right now. Everyone from ABA centers to social media creators are adopting it to sound like they’re safer and more knowledgeable than they are.

But you can’t just pop some neuro-word in place of “autism” and stop picking on a couple of Autistic traits and call yourself “Neuro-affirming.” That’s the low-hanging fruit of #neurodiversitylite.

REAL Neuro-affirming practice comes from a complete shift in mindset, unlearning all the harmful things you once thought were true, and learning about all the things you never even knew you didn’t know. It’s also an ongoing process, not just something you can learn from reading an article or taking a single training.

ABA practitioners are probably the worst offenders right now, mainly because they know they need to rebrand as more and more people learn about what ABA really does to people, but also because their practices in particular are THE furthest away from being Neuro-affirming compared to any other discipline.

They are not the only ones, though, so be wary of #neurodiversitylite in ANY resource aimed at autistic people that appears to be saying all the right things, including: OT, speech, play/talk therapy, early intervention, education, your favorite parenting expert or social media personality who just discovered the world of Neurodiversity, etc.

Look beyond someone’s use of the “right” words or symbols. Do they talk about teaching people to fit into the normative world, or how to more safely and authentically navigate a world not made for them? Do they talk about making the person easier to deal with, or making life easier for the person? Do they concentrate on external behaviors, or are they more concerned with internal experiences? Does most of what they know come from people who studied autistic people from the outside looking in, or from actual autistic people who can speak from lived experience? And are they even using the words right??

The good news is that there are SO MANY resources out there BY autistic and otherwise Neurodivergent people for anyone who wants to learn how to make their practice *actually* more Neuro-affirming. SO MANY!! Three such resources are featured in the second panel from Autism Level UP, Neurowild, and Kieran Rose-The Autistic Advocate. (Big thanks to them for letting me include their work in the cartoon!)

EXPLANATION OF WHAT’S WRONG IN THE “FAKE” PANEL:

- The phrase “individuals with neurodiversity” misuses the word “neurodiversity” and utilizes person first language. The Neuro-affirming phrase would be “neurodivergent people,” or “autistic people” if they specifically meant autistic people.

- Getting rid of puzzle piece stuff is merely a surface level first step, not an end point.

- Not forcing eye contact and allowing hand-flapping are also only surface level first steps. The fact that they still target other stims means they do not understand the importance or functions of stimming, making them incapable of being Neuro-affirming.

- Social skills training aimed at ND people usually centers NT social skills as the “right way” and frames ND social skills as the “wrong way,” making them shame inducing and not at all affirming.

- “Tolerating distress” most often means “suppressing distress.” Neuro-affirming practice would concentrate on identifying and avoiding triggers, helping the person stay regulated, and teaching the person how to accommodate and advocate for their needs so that they are not distressed in the first place.

- “Sensory desensitization” is not a thing that can be done to someone without harm. It is usually done with exposure therapy, which should not be done TO someone who cannot consent. It is also inappropriate for sensory issues, which tells us they don’t understand sensory processing differences at all.

- The posters: Whole Body Listening is based on neuronormative expectations; “They say I’m neurodiverse” is incorrect usage of the word “neurodiverse” (it should be “neurodivergent”), and “but I say I’m perfect” insinuates that being “neurodiverse” is a bad thing, while the use of the rainbow infinity symbol with such a non-affirming message adds to the dissonance; the ABC’s of Behavior is an indicator that ABA/behaviorism will be used, which is the opposite of Neuro-affirming practice.

EXPLANATION OF WHAT’S RIGHT IN THE “REAL” PANEL:

- The person accurately explains what Neuro-affirming practice looks like, without needing to use (or misuse) any Neurodiversity “buzzwords.”

- Bumper, A Whole Body Learner, is a resource created by Autism Level UP that encourages people to discover what it looks like for them to be ready to learn, acknowledging that there is no one right way to appear attentive.

- The poster by Neurowild indicates that they value difference and neurodiversity and that they know there is no one right way of being.

- They use the Advoc8 Framework, a resource created by Kieran Rose, The Autistic Advocate. Using this framework means they want to help the people they work with achieve Agency, Autonomy, (Self) Acceptance, and Authenticity.

[littletism]

what my life is like as a permaregressor, and common misconceptions!

cw: long post!

being a permaregressor i think is sometimes viewed as a want by a lot of people in the community. i see many posts of people saying they wish they were permaregressors, how awesome life would be to be one, etc.

and that's fine! im not here to tell you i hate my life as a permaregressor, far from it. but it's definitely not all sunshine and rainbows, at all.

for those who don't know, i am a teen permaregressor. bodily i am 20 years old, but i am permanently regressed to about 13-16. this means i never really leave this headspace. i never grew up.

so, what's it like? not really all that different from the life of any other adult, really. i'd say the big major differences are that i don't feel like i relate to any other adults around me, and i have a more childlike/naive view on a lot of things than other people my age. i'd say it pretty heavily affects my stress levels though. i am also wildly more immature than people my age.

do i have the ability to act my age? absolutely. masking is a thing permaregressors are more than capable of doing. i have to mask in order to get through life, especially as someone who works full time to provide for myself and help out my family with bills and such.

it's really hard being a permaregressor in the real world, though. i have a pretty busy life outside of tumblr, i work, i take care of my pets, i see my family often, i go out with friends often, i do the grocery shopping for the house by myself a lot of the time, etc! its really quite stressful to do all of these big adult tasks when you feel smaller than everyone around you.

one big problem i see permaregressors who are bodily adults face, is the constant Infantilization we receive, often from other regressors. because we never fully leave our headspaces, we're told we can't do adult things because we can't consent (ex; to things like alcohol or drugs or other adult stuff). this is horrendously untrue, and many of us do not want to be treated like we're actual children. many of us WANT to lead normal adult lives. of course i want to be treated like im little when im regressed to a toddler or a kiddo, of course i wouldn't want to do adult stuff in THOSE headspaces, because they aren't permanent! i'm stuck like this for the rest of my life, and i shouldn't let it define me or force me to be a certain way. im bodily an adult and therefore i expect to be treated like one when in my permaregressed headspace.

i truly do believe this community should be a bit more educated on permaregression. i think people definitely look at it with rose-colored glasses. i also hope no one, especially other permaregressors, found this post to be too pessimistic! i love being a permaregressor, and i think everyone who is one should be allowed to love being one as well.

xoxo

[valyrfia]

don't feel like you have to respond to this if you don't want to but....what are your hottest, potentially cancellable takes on grid dynamics in the 2024 grid?

Dear lord I have a few. It's worth saying that @tsarinablogs and I are a hive mind at this point, so most stuff you see on either of our blogs we have communed about (and she's spoken about it a lot more than I have) but with great trepidation and no real desire to elaborate further:

Max and Charles are a lot closer than they let on. Not best friends, but I'm talking probably have drinks once a month, they're too familiar with each other to just be coworkers

Not really grid dynamics, but Charles travels Monaco on a scooter with a nondescript helmet for when he doesn't want to be spotted

Charles and Carlos are the fakest friends you've ever seen but even they get convinced by their own mind games sometimes

Lando likes being friends with a world champion a lot more than he likes being friends with Max

Max likes Lando a lot more than Lando likes Max

Max and Daniel aren't close at all anymore

Carlos and Lando do play it up for the bit but they are genuinely close friends

Pierre and Esteban definitely attempted reciprocal murder at some point in the last year

Charles and Pierre's friendship wouldn't work if Pierre was a better driver

Charles can be traced back to a lot more of the drama than people think

Only drivers that Charles, Lewis, Max truly respect on the grid are each other (Fernando is in a special category that does not permeate our understanding of respect)

George is only tolerable if you let him think he's the smartest person in the room

I have more, but these are the ones off the top of my head.