#*listens to tender strength on repeat* *listens to tender strength on repeat* *listens to tender strength on r

[l13]

♡simon 'ghost' riley♡

i wrote this in ten minutes while having this song on repeat, definitely recommend listening to it it's so so good

cw : nsfw 18+, female reader, VERY LAZY WRITING! , swearing, he spanks you like one time, some sweat licking LMFAOO, not proofread

“Fuckin’ hell….” Ghost pants on your temple, mouth open as he moans deeply ending in a gasp of your name. “You’re gonna be the fucking death o’ me, you know that?” A deliciously slow roll of your hips earns you a slap on the ass, his hand grabbing and squeezing the skin a moment later, hissing when your nails dig in his shoulder blades. 

“Sweetest fucking pussy, isn’t that right?” his mumbles were barely coherent, as if he was speaking to himself  “All mine.. all.. fucking.. mine.” this time he punctuates his words with thrusts of his own, leaving you with your mouth open in a silent scream. 

“So good, baby. You’re so good.” you’re a little surprised when your own voice reaches your ears, as if you weren’t aware that you were speaking until the words were out of your mouth. His hand grasps the locks at the base of your neck, tugging you closer to him as he sits up a bit, his other hand cupping your breast and squeezing tenderly before snaking down to rub tight little circles on your clit. 

He hums as you gush around his cock, “such a good fucking girl for me.. so fucking wet,” “Yes, yesyesyes Simon- fuck,” you notice your thighs shaking first, tremors running through the muscle and Ghost lets out the dirtiest fucking chuckle mixed with a groan of his own as he watches you come undone.  “Now that was nice wasn’t it, love?” you were in no place to reply to him, with your eyes rolled back and body jumping as he pinched your clit before placing multiple light slaps on it with the back of his fingers, while still very much pumping his hard cock inside your cunt with no promise to stop. 

“Gimme a kiss,” he whispers on your parted lips and your tongue darts out to greet his own, the moans and whimpers you couldn’t let out before from the pure bliss you felt were tumbling out of your lips and colliding with his, making all this even more erotic as he let out moans of his own, his thrusts turning impatient as he neared his own end. 

With the last strength you had in you, you gave his chest a rough shove and watched as he fell on his back, and with hooded eyes and that pretty fucking grin he adores, you plant your hands on his chest and start rolling your hips expertly. He grips your thighs almost immediately in a bruising manner, his brows furrowed beautifully, sweat running down the side of his face and you couldn’t stop yourself as you bent down to lick it up. 

“You- ah fuck.” he snarls and he almost loses himself right then and there, feeling your tongue on his temple, and then the most tender kiss he’s ever felt before he sees you arch your back and resume riding him with all your might.

“Darling I’m- fuck” you’re playing with him now, the roll of your hips much slower than before, but hard as you sink back down on him, and he’s this close to crying. “Yeah? Gonna come inside me, baby?” your voice was almost hypnotizing, and he locked his eyes on yours, “Fuck- yeah,” he only let out a hiss before he cupped your cheek and brought you down to him once more, licking into your lips and whimpering each time he raised his hips to push his cock juuust a little deeper, filling your pussy to the brim, feeling his come drip down his thighs. His eyes rolled back and his mouth watered at the image of your wet fucking pussy in his mind and he was this close to flipping you over and having his way with you again, only this time with his mouth.

And that’s exactly what he did.

2022 © l13 | Do not steal, copy, edit, translate or re-post any of my works. It's lazy writing but it's still my writing.

#simon riley #ghost #ghost cod #cod mw2 smut #cod mw2 fic #cod mw2 fanfic #ghost x reader #ghost smut #ghost x reader smut #ghost cod x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley x reader smut #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x you #ghost x you #ghost x y/n #simon riley smut #simon ghost riley x you #cod fanfic #cod smut #simon riley cod #ghost mw2 #mw2 x reader #mw2 smut #call of duty smut #call of duty x reader #lazy writing #l13 #Spotify

[yuujispinkhair]

Shinunoga E-wa 

Pairing: Jing Yuan x Reader (gender-neutral) Genre: fluff Word Count: 800 Warnings: None, just some pining because Jing Yuan misses you while you are on a mission :) All characters are of age. My blog is 18+. Minors don't interact. -> This is part of my Blog Anniversary Event (closed). @jingyuansbird requested the song Shinunoga E-wa by Fujii Kaze.

"If that is all, I want to close this meeting now."

Jing Yuan lets his golden eyes travel over the small group listening to him. It's not that he doesn't want to do his job. It's not that he is tired of the responsibility. But right now, all the general wants is to go home and wait for the call he knows will soon try to reach him.

The call from you.

He longs to hear your voice, longs to tell you about his day, and ask you about yours. He longs to whisper a tender "I love you" and hear you return it.

He has been missing you for the last few weeks since you left for a mission on another planet. And as much as he can mask his feelings during the day, they are always there under the surface, always haunting his every minute, filling his heart with longing. He wishes he could go home to you and take you in his arms.

But since that isn't possible at the moment, he at least needs to talk to you. He needs the company your telephone calls provide. The comfort of hearing his beloved's voice.

Jing Yuan is a man who is willing to sacrifice a lot. His time, his strength, his effort. It's natural for a man in his position. But he thinks he only truly learned what sacrifices he would be willing to make when he met you.

What wouldn't he give to see you right now? To be able to see your smile and reach out a calloused hand to cup your cheek. What wouldn't he give to wrap you in his arms and hug you to his tall, muscular body, protecting you from the rest of the world, claiming you as his alone. He would sacrifice all he has just to be with you right now.

Of course, he can see your face and hear your laugh via electronic devices, but it's not the same.

He smiles a bit to himself as he strides towards his house. Usually, he isn't one for the big dramatic gestures. His calmness often gets taken for indifference. But that is far from the truth. At least when it comes to you, his darling, his love, his everything. And in his mind, he is being quite dramatic right now. He is pretty sure he would die if he had to be separated from you forever.

But to his luck, he knows you'll return to him soon. And then he can finally hold you in his arms again, kiss you, and tell you in person that he loves you and wants you to be his last. His forever.

His phone rings the moment he enters his home. A home that doesn't feel so much like home at the moment when you aren't living here too. When your scent doesn't linger on the pillows. When your laughter doesn't echo off the walls.

He takes the call and greets you with a smile in his low voice,

"Good evening, my love. Or rather, good morning where you are."

His chest feels warm when he hears your reply, and he feels some of the tension leave his body as he slumps against the fridge and tells you everything that happened today. The corners of his lips are lifted in a gentle smile during the whole call. When he closes his eyes, he can almost pretend you are here in the room with him, as you should be.

"I miss you. I can't wait to see you."

The longing is evident in his voice. And the same emotions carry to his ears when you tell him you miss him too.

But he tries to hold back, tries not to burden you too much with his longing, so you won't feel too bad about taking on this mission. So you will be able to have a clear head and finish it quickly.

He doesn't say it out loud, but the same thought keeps repeating in his mind:

Don't ever leave me again. Please always stay by my side. I need you. My heart is so heavy when you are away.

But he suspects you can hear it in his voice anyway. And when you are back home, he will present you with a job offer that lets you stay by his side all the time. He hopes you will accept it because he doesn't think he can endure being separated from you ever again.

Aww writing this made me smile so much!! I can imagine him being so calm on the surface but missing you so much on the inside 💗Thank you so much for participating in my event 💗💗 I hope you liked this little story!!

Comments and reblogs would be very sweet.

#jing yuan #jing yuan x reader #jing yuan x you #jing yuan fluff #hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader

[kun3ho141]

This image does not belong to me. All credit is due to its respective owner.

Inspiration: Call of Duty: Ghosts

Pairing: David 'Hesh' Walker x F!Reader

Synopsis: With the grief of losing his family, Hesh blames himself for the loss of his younger brother. While locating Logan, guiding a team, and maintaining a relationship, he succumbs to yet another nightmare, seeking comfort in your presence.

Word-Count: 985

Warnings: Angst, Mentions of Death, Panic Attack

☆ Reblog, Comment, and Like ☆

I do not permit others to translate or republish my works on this platform or any other A.I. program.

A/N: I found a post that talked about Hesh experiencing overwhelming guilt after losing his family. Even though I can't find it, if you happen to stumble upon it, please tag me. I'd love to credit them.

Originally, I planned to write fluff, but this particular scenario came to mind. I promise to write something more wholesome next time lol. Thank you for reading!! ♡

Hesh's heart pounds in his chest as he struggles to catch his breath. The image of Logan's despairing face flashes before his eyes, etching itself into his memory. The sound of his brother's cries echo in his ears, haunting him with every beat of his racing pulse.

Sitting up in bed, Hesh runs a trembling hand through his buzzed hair, trying to shake off the remnants of the nightmare that had woken him. The room feels suffocating, the air thick with the overwhelming guilt that threatens to consume him.

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

Since his childhood, Hesh’s father had emphasized the importance of looking after his younger brother, a duty he approached with dedication and pride. However, since Logan’s abduction, he believes his own failure allowed Rorke to take him, convinced that he lacked the strength to protect him or to offer himself in his brother's place.

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

A single bead of sweat trickles down his forehead, making its way to his cheek. His throat is parched, and he struggles to breathe.

In the midst of his turmoil, he can almost hear his father's voice, the words a relentless mantra in his mind. "You were supposed to protect him," it whispers, each syllable a sharp stab to his already wounded conscience. The weight of his father's expectations presses down on him, threatening to crush him under its unbearable culpability.

“...esh?..”

“..ove?..”

“Hesh!”

His thoughts abruptly halt when he hears your voice echoing in his ears. Glancing to his left, he spots your figure. You’re sitting up, anxiously gazing at him, tightly gripping the shared blanket.

“Are you okay, love?” you question him, scooting closer to his trembling form. Taking his hand, you soothingly brush his knuckles. Your expression is gentle, in sharp contrast to the exhausted and guilt-ridden look on your boyfriend's face. Not wanting you to worry, he merely offers you a smile. He had forgotten that you were sleeping beside him. 

"I'm alright, sweetheart," he murmurs. Despite his effort to conceal his discomfort, his voice falters. Seeing your concern heighten, he averts his gaze. With a soft sigh, he understands that you’re aware of his distress. 

“Another nightmare?” you ask, tightening your hold on his hand. Without saying a word, he simply nods. As tears well up in his eyes, his throat tightens. Ever since Logan's absence, he hasn't been the same, feeling completely lethargic. His temper has worsened, causing him to lash out at his team and even at you. The realization that he's hurting the only person he has left in this world weighs heavily on his shoulders. 

He lets out a soft whimper, then collapses into your arms. His erratic breathing persists, clutching onto you as if his life depended on it. "I'm sorry..." he repeats profusely, his voice tinged with regret. 

Your heart aches, watching him crumble in your arms. “It’s okay…” you console him, embracing him tightly while running your fingers through his short hair. Planting tender kisses on his head, you attentively listen to his uneven breathing. His tears soak into your nightshirt, dampening the fabric. However, you remain unbothered, solely focused on your boyfriend's well-being.

“I’m trying my best,” he promises, his voice strained and fractured. "But I feel like I'm letting the team down... and hurting you too..." His sobs grow louder, finally releasing all the emotions he has been suppressing since Logan's absence.

You've noticed his waning patience, understanding the reasons for his actions. Coping with the loss of his family, the pressure of finding his brother, and juggling both a team and relationship? Difficult was an understatement. 

“No, no, sweetheart,”  you reply, pulling his body closer to yours. "I'm sure they understand, and I’m not upset at all." You assure him, resting your head against his. Breathing in his scent, you gently rub his back, attempting to comfort him. “I know you’re trying your best…” 

He shakes his head, dismissing your words. "I'm pushing you away," he murmurs. Despite wanting to deny his claim of disregarding you, there’s some truth in his words. He’s been neglecting your relationship, focusing solely on his work. He’s dedicated most, if not all, of his time to locating Logan. While you understand this, you feel alone and excluded. Even taking on the responsibility of caring for Riley because Hesh forgets to feed him.

Noticing your silence, he instinctively strengthens his hold on you, overwhelmed with apprehension. Although his voice is barely audible, his plea manages to reach you, "Please… don’t leave me too." With his words pulling at your heart, you attempt to understand the fear that engulfs him. His nails dig into your skin, desperately grasping onto you. Ignoring the sharp pain, you focus on consoling him. 

"I won’t. I promise," you respond, your voice devoid of any uncertainty. The mere thought of you leaving him alone, vanishing from his life, lingers in his mind, haunting him. “It’s going to be okay…” you whisper, gently raising his head to meet your gaze. A faint smile grazes your lips as you look at his face. Despite the scars and exhaustion, you still see the charismatic man you fell in love with years ago. "We’ll find him, I promise..."

He nods, finally calming down. His tears wane and his breathing becomes steady as you plant a soft kiss on his forehead, then on his lips. His calloused hands loosen their grip, as he finally finds solace in the moment. Seconds pass before you separate, cupping his face in your hands, caressing his scarred cheeks with your thumbs. Your foreheads touch, eyes closed. "We'll work on our relationship and the team. I'm not going anywhere, Hesh. I promise," you murmur.

Sitting up straight, he plants a tender kiss on your forehead, his lips lingering before he pulls away. "I love you so much... I always will."

“I love you too.”

#call of duty #cod fandom #cod fanfic #cod ghosts #fanfic #fanfiction #scenarios #x female reader #x fem!reader #cod x reader #call of duty x reader #hesh walker x reader #x reader #oneshot #fluff #david hesh walker #riley the dog #angst #logan walker #elias walker #comfort

[viviwritesss]

The Songcord

Neteyam × female! Omaticaya! Reader

Some believe waiting is the strongest act of love one could ever do, for time is ever so ungrateful and cruel that it never hesitates to tear longing lovers apart. But when the pain of loss is too much to bear, perhaps one last glimpse at him could mend your broken heart.

Word count: 2.5k

Tags: angst, mentions of blood, mentions of death, soft Neteyam that dislikes killing and all that stuff.

A/n: Hello again! First of all, I'd like to thank you all for supporting the last post I made! I received a couple of requests, and I'll try to get to them as soon as possible! If any of you wish to make a request, I'd be glad to receive it! Anyway, remember reader's name is Zoraya, and also I would recommend you to listen to 'The songcord' by Zoe Saldana while reading this, it's a beautiful song :)

It had been a while since you last saw Neteyam. 

Perhaps such a turn of events was for the best. Not knowing about him, not speaking to him, not touching him, not seeing him, made the whole situation more bearable, if only a little. Yet your mind couldn't help but wander everywhere but on the tasks you had to get done. Wander back to when you would look at him and smile without this pain in your woeful chest, when the two of you would laugh over his pitiful attempt at braiding your hair, when he would carry you around on his back because he knew how much you enjoyed it, back when your heart didn't seem to burn whenever you laid eyes on him.

He used to swear you two would stay together forever. Back in your childhood days, on the most distant memories your tired brain can still fathom, Neteyam often mentioned how he wished to be your loyal knight, like those his father used to tell him about in fairytales. Only the best of knights is suited for a princess such as Zora, he would repeat, before taking your hand and running off towards the forest. And as little time went on, Neteyam pronounced, now with a smidge more of common sense, that, rather, he wished for you to be his bride. For you to be his.

Perhaps neither of you understood the weight of such claims all those years ago, however, you would always answer with an enthusiastic nod, and a big smile on your face.

Since those days you knew you were betrothed to Neteyam. At least you felt like you were, even after he grew up and, little by little, stopped bringing up the idea. 

In time, his eyes darkened, tainted and forever stained with burden, with responsibility and a duty that, one day, would abruptly befall onto his shoulders. And his hands –before soft and tender– dripped blood since youth, blood of his enemies, carrying on his palm yet another burden; the burden of murder. Of spilling the blood of those weaker than him, unable to stand against a trained warrior such as himself. 

You still remember the first time he killed. A memory ever so vivid that you still carry it within your skin. You awaited his return, expectant, scared, for he always expressed with adamant regret how he wished not to rip out someone's soul out of their body, a brutal, cruel act that, according to him and his soft heart, he never wished to commit unless necessary. Yet he was commanded to do so. And so he did. For he was expected to do it, because he is Neteyam Sully, the firstborn.

That day, he returned to you first –before even reporting to his father– in the middle of the night, crestfallen, regretful, woeful and empty, oh so empty he could only look at you with those dark eyes of lacking color. Covered in blood that wasn't even his. 

No words were exchanged that night. He wasn't even able to muster the strength of cleaning himself up, which is why you did, and with a wet, warm cloth, you wished to cleanse both the stain of blood on his skin, and the stain of pain in his heart.

He was always so gentle, so kind hearted and benign, that it hurt your soul to see him so utterly shattered. So delved in his misery, in a weight so heavy upon his back that made him crack.

That cold night, Neteyam held you closer than he ever had, as if you would get snatched from him for eternity. He placed his trembling, bloodstained hands on your waist, clinging to your warmth with such desperation that had you cradling his head on your chest, the sound of your heartbeat being the sole anchor that refrained him from falling apart.

And such encounters continued for a long time, for Neteyam was strong at fights, yet weak at heart. A cursed man, so young yet so haunted. Burdened since birth, condemned since the day he opened his very eyes, all for being a Sully; for being the firstborn.

Thoughts about him swallowed you whole, flooded your brain and drove you mad, mad from love? Who knows. You were losing your mind, that's for sure. Maybe you wouldn't mind such a thing, if at least you had him by your side, if at least you knew he was still alive and well, and if at least you knew how his thoughts had been treating him as of late.

Little more could you do than to cling merely onto a hazy remembrance of him, promising the world to you once he returned.

Once he returned…

Then again… how long has it been…?

The Sully family had been away for more moons than you can count, perhaps even years, and with each passing day, the unbearable pain of getting left behind by your loved one left you dwindling. So much so that the image of Neteyam in your head started fading in time. The thought of forgetting his face terrified you, for it was tied to the idea of permanently losing him; of losing the hope of living the happy life he told you about before he left, a long time ago. It petrified you so much that you found it in yourself to try and draw him, draw what hazy details you remembered of him and of his kind features, to try and at the very least commit him into paper. Perhaps that way… you wouldn't forget. You attempted such portraits many times, yet upon glancing at the finished piece, you just knew something was missing, something was wrong, that is not Neteyam.

And then one day you finally realized. You forgot how he looked. Not only that, but the sound of his voice vanished from your memories. Finally, the only thing left of him you had was the songcord, which he promised would be the beginning of your story together just before leaving you behind.

Time never stopped, and as such, neither did your longing. Everyone knew this yet you were already of age, older, actually, for you were not betrothed out of respect to your decision and Neteyam's of waiting for his return to become his mate.

To your dismay, such an event never transpired, so you were soon to be betrothed to a good male of the tribe. A kind na'vi who knew beforehand that your heart already belonged elsewhere, in the hands of another man, despite the time that passed.

Yes. You hadn't seen Neteyam in a while. In years. Which perhaps made your betrothal more bearable. Yet, even then, you couldn't stop thinking about him. You started to believe you never could.

And one day, the sound of a foreign Ikran was heard. 

"Zoraya!" A young girl approached you frantically and out of breath, tugging desperately at your hand with an unreadable expression on her face. "In the village, the Sullys, they…!" Your eyes widened. "They have returned!"

You left out an exasperated breath, feeling your heart quickly grow mad upon the news. Your chest started feeling terribly tight, as if concealed within iron claws, so much so that it felt as if you couldn't breathe properly.

Neteyam… he… he is back…!

You dropped the basket full of fruit you held without hesitation, to proceed to run desperately towards the village with little concern of your surroundings and without care of the cut and scratches you acquired while sprinting hectically through the forest.

Neteyam… Neteyam came back to me…!

Just the thought had you increasing your speed, ignoring the fleeting pain of wounds, disregarding whatever it was that got in your path.

I want to see him…!

Upon your arrival, you quickly made your way through the crowd, squeezing between the people surrounding the family that just arrived, and letting out quick apologies to try and reach them. Reach him.

Neteyam… finally, I can tell you one more time…

You locked eyes with Neytiri.

How much I love you…!

She looked at you with misery.

Your smile quickly vanished.

The whole family was silent, staring at you with narrow eyes, gazes so pitiful that had you taking a step back, embracing yourself in nervousness.

You couldn't see Neteyam.

"Where is Neteyam?" Your voice wavered, dwindling under sad gazes and the cruel realization that he was not there.

Jake appeared crestfallen, unable to look at you in the eye once more; unable to bear your helpless expression which still tried to seek out his son.

A son that was no more.

Neytiri was the one to look at you, strong face yet weak heart –just like her son– as she locked eyes with you. She choked on her words, obvious rage and sorrow coming out of her expression.

She could only shake her head at you in regret.

Your heart shattered.

A pain like none you've ever felt in your chest got you falling expressionless to the ground, water pooling in your eyes as you grabbed your heart in misery, clinging to the songcord he gave you as you felt your heart get ripped out of your chest.

You couldn't remember more from that day. Memories faded, yet pain lived vivid within you.

You felt empty, even if he left a long time ago and you knew nothing about him, it felt as though a part of you was violently ripped out of you along with his departure.

You often wandered off alone to the spirit tree. It made you feel close to him, even though death cruelly interfered. He finally went to a place you couldn't reach, a realm so far that your feet could never touch, not as long as your lungs drew air. He left, and this time, you couldn't follow.

The tree of voices felt quiet. Awfully quiet and dreadful, as if sensing your loss and the pain dwelling in your chest. 

You sat down, taking deep breaths, trying to remain calm. You couldn't stop thinking about him; your mind, stained with love, would not let you rest, would not let you go a moment without wishing to see him one last time, to finally mutter what remained untold, to tell him how much love you harbored for him ever since you were kids.

You closed your eyes, feeling the wind envelop you in its cold embrace, a surge of emotions flowing through your body and a sense of vertigo coursing through your flesh.

And then you opened your eyes.

And he was in front of you.

You were no longer under the spirit tree, rather, it seemed you were between his arms, a wet, warm cloth in your hand, while he gently placed his hand on your waist.

You still remembered that night, the night he seeked you out, covered in blood. The night he murdered for the first time.

You left out a choked sigh, looking down at him, being met with his head, gently placed on your chest.

The both of you shared a burning warmth, sitting on the floor, with you sitting on top of him, seeking the contact of skin so fervently it hurt.

Your sight wavered upon meeting his form, a striking sadness making your eyes wet with tears. You could feel him, finally, after all this time, the longing within your chest felt less heavy, yet the sense of not being able to see him again lurked deep in your head.

He held you close, strong arms surrounding you with ease, as his big palms caressed your waist with care.

"Neteyam…" you cried out in a whisper, your voice heavy with pain, which had him looking up at you, at your hurt expression.

And then you saw him, his face, and it was as if your memory never forgot about him in the slightest. You placed both hands on his cheeks, smiling weakly through your tears at him and his concerned features.

He was still as handsome as you remembered.

And he was there. He was with you, and you could feel his warmth, feel his skin against yours and, this time, it was not a distant dream.

"Why are you crying…?" He spoke so softly, so tenderly and loving and it made you shatter, realizing how deeply you missed his voice. He removed his hands from your waist, placing them below your eyes to wipe your tears with his thumb, as he worriedly scanned your face for answers.

"I'm just happy to see you." You said, unable to stop the relentless tears from falling off your face, as with your palms you held his cheeks, trying to get this last moment with him ingrained in your brain.

You would never allow yourself to forget. Not again.

"I'm happy to see you too." He said, weakly smiling at you as his forehead connected with yours.

You embraced him like you never had before, knowing this would be the last time you were ever permitted to do so, placing your head in the crook of his neck as he protectively hugged you with the same intensity. 

"Neteyam?" Your voice was worn out, tired, as with your hands you clung to his back, wishing to stay inside this memory for as long as possible. He merely hummed questioningly at the call of his name, and you sighed with delight upon realizing that, finally, you could say what you wished to confess ever since he departed. "I think I'm in love with you." You faced him, a sad smile on your face. "I'm terrible, am I not?" You laughed, further attempts to wipe your tears remaining fruitless. 

He looked at you tenderly, his dark eyes regaining the color they lacked, shining under your gaze.

"Hardly," He mumbled, kissing your eyes, soft lips upon your eyelids. It all felt so terribly real it made your heart stirr. "I feel the same." He all but whispered those words, and you felt your world regain a little color. "You just said it before I could." You furrowed your brows in sorrow. He loved you as well, yet a timeless force separated you both in such a cruel way, that fate would never let you stay by his side. 

You sobbed at the thought, and, once more, Neteyam grabbed your cheeks between his palms in an attempt to understand the cause of your sorrow.

"Why do you cry still, my love? I'm right here. Right by your side." He exclaimed with sageness, as water flowed down your cheeks, staining his hands with your tears. You could never achieve a shared future with the man you love, he would slide from between your fingers ever so gently, and you would get left behind once more. "I'll never leave your side, yeah? I'll stay for as long as you wish. So please, don't shed tears for me."

You could only nod, clinging to him in desperation, as you felt him vanish from between your grasp. You tried to maniacally hang onto his memory, but before you knew it, he was gone. He was not by your side anymore.

You were left alone with your thoughts again.

A pained chuckle escaped your lips.

He lied.

#avatar the way of water #neteyam #neteyam sully #avatar 2 #avatar x reader #neteyam sully x reader #neteyam x reader #neteyam x you #neteyam fanfiction #neteyam angst

[rebelspykatie]

that green light, i want it

Part 2

He can’t believe someone caught him. Weeks of planning, trying to avoid this outcome, only for it to all come crumbling down when he’s finally successful. He doesn’t want to have to kill this man, but he’s seen too much. No one can know the truth, it’s too dangerous. 

No one was supposed to know any of this. Nancy swore him to secrecy, made him take an oath that he wouldn’t knowingly tell anyone of their plans. Their coven is well protected in the hollowed out recesses of the deep, overgrown woods. Hidden away from the world, kept in the shadows to safeguard their identity. Nancy only stumbled upon them in her mission to find Barb. 

Of course, whispers of the haunted wood are nothing new in Hawkins, but Nancy learned the truth the hard way. She was sucked into their world, desperate for answers on Barb’s disappearance. They promised they could help, filled Nancy’s head with delusions. It wasn’t long before her power grew too strong, lashing out at those around her, putting everyone in danger. 

It was a good thing Steve found her when he did, magic eating her alive, tearing her apart and feeding on her grief. Hollowed out eyes, sunken in cheeks and the smell of decaying wood followed her everywhere. Steve forced the truth out of her, convinced her to lead him back to the coven, their leader furious at Nancy’s betrayal. 

But Steve proved himself, displaying a quick aptitude for it, requesting to take Nancy’s place. Before long, he was outpacing Nancy. Her control was tenuous, ebbing and flowing with her mood, but Steve’s was stable. He anchored himself to the earth, listened to the elders and found strength in the calming quality of the woods. 

He’s not naive, he knows that the coven wants to use his power, to corrupt him into doing their bidding, but he came into this with a purpose. Answers about Barb were his only mission. Nancy’s not the only one with unanswered questions from that night. How Barb disappeared without a trace. How the cops had no leads and let the case go cold. How Steve was the last person to lay eyes on her and spent weeks as a lead suspect at the tender age of sixteen. 

And now he has answers. But it doesn’t feel better. The closure does nothing to satisfy the roiling turmoil turning over his stomach. He’s scared. Or maybe he’s not as anchored as he thought, because he can feel the power surging through his veins, the way it tingles down his spine and lights up his fingertips. The way revenge whispers in his ear and begs him to do its bidding. It’s terrifying, feeling powerless under the weight of all that power. The cloying madness of it seeping into his palms, itching to find a way out of the vessel he’s trapped it in. 

So when he turns and spots this helpless man watching him, he moves without thinking, magic taking hold and protecting him without a second thought. Before he even has time to process what’s happening, the man is pinned to a tree, green tendrils wrapped around his wrists and neck, the man uselessly clawing at them for purchase while his hands slip right through the incorporeal mist. 

“I-it’s not,” the man rasps, sputtering around the choking sensation. Steve loosens his hold. The man coughs and repeats, “It’s not hot.”

It’s not what he’s expecting to come out of the man’s mouth. Confusion cuts through the fog of power, snapping him back into the present. “What?” 

The man’s eyes are focused on the magic flowing out of Steve’s hands. “Your magic. I thought it would be warm.”

Ah. He flexes his hands and lets the magic coil around the man’s chest instead of his neck. “No, it’s not hot.” He looks up, tilts his head curiously when the man lets out a nervous giggle. Maybe this guy’s insane and he doesn’t have to worry about killing him. Would anyone even believe that he saw talking corpses in the graveyard? 

“Sorry,” he squirms against the tree, “it tickles.” 

Curious. Steve always believed that if anyone found out about him, they would be scared. He certainly was when he found Nancy and she didn’t have half his power and looked like a walking corpse herself at the time. But this man doesn’t look afraid. He’s giggling. 

“Aren’t you scared?” 

“Should I be?” He raises both eyebrows and tightens the restraints. The man winces and rolls his eyes. “Ok, you are holding me off the ground with magic, that’s fair. You just, I don’t know…you looked sad.” He tries to shrug and it tugs on Steve’s magic. “Even if I am scared, what difference does it make? You clearly have all the power here. If you’re going to hurt me, there’s not a lot I can do about it.” 

“I was going to kill you.” 

The man stares at him with narrowed eyes. 

“Well, at least they won’t fire me then.” Yeah, this man’s deranged. Or has a death wish. “Do you know how hard it’s been cleaning up after you? You should have some more respect for the dead. And minimum wage workers.” 

“Are you trying to annoy me into killing you?”

“Is it working?” He’s grinning now, like he’s got Steve exactly where he wants him. After a beat with no response from Steve, his face turns grim. “What are you doing all this for, anyways? It better have been worth it.” 

“I-It was. I got my answer.” 

“About what?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Oh come on, I think I deserve to know what this was all about before you sentence me to death.”

“Don’t you know that curiosity killed the cat?” 

“Cats have nine lives, asshole.” 

“You only have one and you’re pushing your limit on getting to keep it,” Steve sighs. 

He’s not going to kill this man. He’s not sure when he decided, but he’s tired of death. It’s followed him around for years now and he wants to shake free of its hold. There’s no way he’s going to contribute to the ghosts haunting these woods. Not when he’s finally laid one to rest.

Slowly lowering the man to the ground, he asks, “What’s your name?”

The man narrows his eyes again. “Why should I tell you that? You need it to plan out your story once I’m six feet under?”

“I’m not going to kill you,” he repeats.

He pulls his magic back, green light winking out and shrouding them in darkness, the quick contrast disorienting him, eyes slowly adjusting. He can make out the man rubbing at his wrists, but he’s not running. This guy has no self preservation instincts. 

“Eddie,” he mumbles into the dark night. “Eddie Munson.” 

“I’m Steve Harrington.” He opens his palm and conjures a ball of light, dousing them in a green hue again. “If you want to know more, I’ll explain what I can, but we have to get out of the open. You’re not safe now that you know.” 

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven | Part Eight | Part Nine | Epilogue | AO3

#stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #katie writes #a little spooky treat for you all #halloween

[numinousmysteries]

Déjà Vu

@eightnightsofmulder

@today-in-fic

Eight Nights of Mulder Day Seven: Potatoes

[on Ao3]

December 1999

Fucking Scully gives him déjà vu. Every sensation is a new discovery, but at the same time, he is so intimately familiar with her body and her soul that it feels like coming home. The delicate fingers that once swept hair off his forehead to check for a head injury now curl around his cock and it feels different, yet the same. Picking up her small, naked body to lower down onto his bed feels similar to carrying her to safety in Antarctica, but it’s also brand new.

He saw the tattoo on her lower back in a case file and once in a decontamination shower, but now he knows how it tastes. He spent weeks hating himself whenever she flinched and tried to hide the pain from the gunshot wound in her abdomen. Now, he absolves himself by pressing a kiss to the scar every time he works his way down her body.

She is Scully and also not-Scully. She is his stubbornly brilliant partner who can shoot holes in his theories (or his shoulder) from a mile away. She is also his surprisingly mischievous lover who sneaks up on him from behind in the shower, gently kisses the middle of his back, and starts working his dick in her hands until he spins around to lift her up and fuck her right there, soap suds dripping down his chest to where their bodies meet.

She is 38 years of Hanukkah, Christmas, and birthday presents wrapped into one petite package.

It’s the first weekend in December and they’re holed up in his apartment after returning from Southern California where he shot a brain-eating fast-food employee. It’s not a normal life, but it’s theirs and he wouldn’t want it any other way. Her only rule is that they keep it strictly platonic in public, but he’s already looking forward to breaking that one.

He wakes up on Sunday morning with his arms wrapped around her listening to her snore. Yes, Dana Scully snores. That wasn’t a surprise when they started sleeping together. Years of overnight stakeouts and crosscountry flights will teach you your partner’s sleeping sounds. He’s always loved her snoring. Just like her, it’s gentle yet persistent, not a deep and guttural utterance but a soft and steady rhythm of air catching in her throat.

He closes his eyes and tries to let the sound of her breathing soothe him back to sleep, but his dick has other ideas. Lying here naked with Scully’s also-naked, velvety soft body pressed against his is just too much stimulation after too many years of drought. He traces her lips with his fingertips as he buries his face in her auburn hair.

“Mmm, Mulder,” she whispers nearly inaudibly.

“Good morning,” he says, letting his hand roam from her mouth to left breast.

He lazily circles his fingers around her nipple, just barely making contact as it hardens into a tight little nub. By the time he repeats the pattern on the right side, she’s rocking her hips back against him. The pressure of her ass grinding against his erection is a sublime form of torture.

“I need you,” he whispers in her ear, and it isn’t hyperbole. He’s known for years that he couldn’t live without her, but it’s only in the past couple of months that he’s learned how much his body simply craves hers.

“So take me,” she says firmly, turning over to face him. She tilts her chin up as if to dare him, and he can see her full lips, the milky white skin of her throat, her perfect breasts.

It’s almost enough to make him come on the spot. He accepts her challenge, rolling on top of her and pinning her wrists above her head with his hands. She lets out a gasp. That’s one new thing he’s learned: Dana Scully likes it rough.

The first time they’d made love, they’d both been so gentle, so afraid that one false move would wake them up from this impossible dream. He’d only just recovered from his impromptu brain surgery but even if he was at his full strength he wouldn’t have dared touch her with anything less than tender reverence. He knew she was tough but he needed her to feel safe with him.

By their third time, she told him, You don’t have to treat me like glass. I’m not going to break. And while he would sooner put a bullet through his own brain than hurt her in any way, he’s enjoying learning what she likes—a little nibbling on her ear lobe, a firm hand behind her head when she sucks him off, no handcuffs…yet.

He presses her wrists into the bed and kisses her hard on the mouth.

“Don’t move,” he says, taking his hands off her wrists to trace the outline of her torso.

He runs his fingers over her breasts and the narrow indentation of her waistline before firmly gripping her hips. He lowers himself until he’s facing the damp curls between her legs. He bows his head, nose first, into her pubis. He fucking loves how she smells.

She spreads her legs open around him and he uses his thumbs to part her outer lips and pauses to admire her swollen, glistening center.

“Please,” she whimpers.

“Oh, Scully,” he whispers into her clit. Then he gives her one long stroke with the flat of his tongue and she shivers around him.

He draws circles with his tongue, savoring her sharp, salty, Scully taste as she makes hot little moans. He picks up the pace and she starts bucking her hips into his face. He wraps his arms around her and squeezes her ass. She’s moaning harder now, a deep involuntary sound from the base of her throat. She tremors against him.

“Don’t stop, don’t stop,” she begs, as if there’s anything else in the world he’d rather be doing.

He’s humming against her clit now as he licks and sucks on her. He glances up and sees her eyes are shut tight and she’s thrown her head back.

“Oh, fuck, Mulder,” she utters. “Get up here and fuck me.”

Her hips keep thrusting up against him as he presses a wet kiss to her inner thigh, then her navel, then the space between her breasts and rises to meet her. She snakes a hand in between their bodies and guides him inside her. She is so fucking hot and wet all around him. She’s already got one foot over the ledge, so he doesn’t hesitate, just drives into her. Each time the base of his cock grinds against her clit she gasps and quivers, and it doesn’t take long before she gives in to her orgasm. She’s thrashing against him and all he can do is hold on for dear life. He buries his head in between her neck and shoulder and thrusts into her wildly. His heart is hammering out of his chest and he realizes he would happily die in this moment, balls deep in Dana Scully. But he doesn’t die. He comes hard, exploding inside her as he greedily sucks at her neck. It’ll likely leave a mark and he’s glad it’s turtleneck season.

Once he’s fully emptied himself, he rolls off of her, taking one of her small hands in his and bringing it to his racing heart. They lie in silence, catching their breath.

“Why didn’t we do this years ago?” she asks

“Because I’m a goddamn idiot,” he replies, staring at the ceiling. “If I’d known it would be this good I would have bent you over my desk the day I met you.”

He feels her shake her head next to him. “Not then,” she says. “We didn’t even know each other.”

“Well, what about three years ago? If I recall, you were ready to go with Eddie VanBlundht.”

It’s been a long time since either of them has mentioned that name. He knows she’s embarrassed by nearly falling for VanBlundht’s facade.

Scully sighs and turns on her side toward him. “Only because I thought he was you.”

“Is it weird that I was a little jealous of the guy?” he asks. “For having the balls to do what I could only dream about?”

“Mulder, I did think something was off about you—or him, rather. But maybe I just wanted so badly for it to be real that I didn’t question it.”

Her words bloom in his chest. She wanted him enough that she was willing to suspend her disbelief.

“So you would have been into it…if I had made a move earlier?” He asks hopefully.

She shrugs. “It doesn’t matter. We’re here now. We can make up for lost time.” It’s classic Scully. Grounded in reality.

“You don’t think I’m small potatoes?” he asks.

“Oh, Mulder,” she whispers into his neck. “I don’t think you’re small anything.”

“Thank you, Scully,” he grins and kisses the top of her head.

It took them a while to get the timing right, but now that they’ve made it, he wouldn’t change a thing.

#eightdaysofmulder #eightnightsofmulder #8dom #txf #xf fanfic #xfiles fanfic #msr

[my-writings-and-musings]

I had intended to post some more self indulgent Earthspark stuff for my birthday on the 28th but better late than never, yeah?

I adore that Alex and Dot wholeheartedly adopted two towering robotic children without hesitation and were just like "yup these are our babies now we love them" and felt like writing something soft from that. Please enjoy a little fic of Dot comforting Thrash when the latter gets sick for the first time, because hurt/comfort is my absolute jam and he's baby.

Dorothy Malto didn't make a sound as she entered the barn, something that was easier for her than most thanks to her training as a soldier and experience as a mother. There wasn't even a creak from the old rusty hinges as she squeezed through the doors, though she still held her breath as she shut them behind herself, listening for any sign of movement from within. Hearing nothing, she allowed herself to move with a bit more swiftness.

She couldn't quiet the worry gnawing at her gut as she approached the ladder to the second level, but she pushed it down as she pulled herself up the rungs, reminding herself what she was here for. Someone else needed comfort far more than she did.

For all of her strength, there was no stopping the hurt that cut right through her heart as she beheld the familiar white, brass and blue curled miserably atop a makeshift Cybertronian bed. Thrash hadn't moved much since her last visit that morning, and while the sizable blanket she'd placed on him was fluttering with each ventilation, they were slow and haggard enough for her to tell his condition hadn't improved. Though she'd expected it, the sight still made her ache with sympathy. At least his siblings were being kept from their own worry thanks to the "special training" Bumblebee had cooked up to keep them busy, meaning she could focus all of her attention on the child that needed her most. 

As soon as her foot met the floor, the young Terran cracked his optics open, and their dimness deepened her concern. In record time she repeated to herself what Optimus had told her; this would pass, illness was a normal but unpleasant part of Cybertronian development, his immune system was just calibrating itself to the environment he'd been born in…

Smiling softly, she got to her knees beside his bed of straw overlaid with blankets, speaking with as much comfort as could be conveyed through tone. A tender hand on his shoulder allowed her to feel his still unbroken fever, but she didn't let a trace of her worry creep into her voice. "Hey Thrash, how do you feel?"

He looked at her a moment longer before he winced and pushed his helm deeper into the stack of pillows she'd personally arranged for him, looking ready to be sick but soldiering on with a strained murmur. "I'm okay."

Having expected such mock bravado, she moved her hand from his shoulder to the side of his helm, encouraging him to look at her with a tender stroke of his cheek plating. Dim optics flicked in her direction, looking up at her as she tried to encourage him to be honest in the most gentle way possible. "You don't look okay." she said softly, adjusting her hand and sliding her thumb back and forth along his temple. Memories of doing the same for Mo and Robby brought her back to their first times being sick. They'd been a great deal smaller than Thrash, but somehow he still stirred the same protective instinct within her, and she halfway wished for the ability to cradle him as she had them. 

The weight of his helm pressed into her palm as he closed his optics with a weak shudder, expression tightening in pain and discomfort before he spoke up just loudly enough for her to hear. "Head hurts…" he confessed, walls slowly coming down as he allowed himself to admit some of his struggle. That was something they'd been told to expect, but hearing it didn't make her feel any better.

"I can call Optimus and see if their medic has anything for that." she offered, speaking somewhat quickly as her concern briefly got the better of her. It didn't matter that he was nearly twice her height; as far as she was concerned Thrash was her baby, and seeing him like this made her feel an indescribable need to provide some kind of relief. With her first two she'd at least had human doctors and a competitive wealth of resources… The ailing bot made a soft sound of discomfort and leaned even more heavily into her touch, his trembling compelling her to speak again, albeit with much more control of her tone. "Can I get you anything for now?"

Thrash was silent, his brows briefly furrowing as he once again fought to be strong and hide all the discomforts she knew was making him miserable. For a moment it seemed like he would succeed, and that he would mutter something about just wanting rest as he had that morning, but Dot felt something falter within him. A wave of exhaustion passed through the young mech, and he let his helm go limp in her grasp.

"Mom…" he said in the weakest whisper she'd ever heard, voice breaking as his dim optics turned back to her before going foggy. She couldn't keep the heartbreak off her face as she heard him speak, especially as his shoulders trembled with a weak sob and her usually upbeat and happy boy confessed his true feelings in a single, pained sentence.

"I don't feel good…"

"Shhh…" she soothed without delay, adjusting herself to gently guide his helm into her lap. Forcing her voice to stay steady and her heart to remain strong, she held him close, hoping he could feel her love and support while he needed it most. She'd seen the same reaction from her older two many times, and remembered the feeling well from her own youth; the helpless misery of being sick and young and just wanting the pain to stop. "I know baby, I know…"

Thrash whimpered again, and though her leg began to go numb she didn't even think of moving him from her lap as she cradled him as well as her smaller form allowed. It brought a small measure of relief to her son, who quieted and closed his optics after a few minutes of her soothing touch, his ventilations slowing as he finally relaxed enough to drift off in her grasp. After a solid twenty minutes he was powered down and her leg was buzzing with pins and needles. Despite all of that, the sight of him recharging peacefully brought a soft smile to her face. 

"Mom's here." she whispered with a tender kiss on his helm, intending to stay as long as necessary if it brought him the smallest amount of comfort. 

#transformers #maccadam #transformers earthspark #earthspark #transformers: earthspark #tf earthspark #dorothy malto #dot malto #earthspark thrash #tfes thrash #tfe thrash #thrash #thrash malto #fanfic #self indulgent #hurt/comfort

[luminiscented]

Heyyyy!!!! I loved the daddy!Morro fic!! The thing is...i need more. :0

Light of his shadow

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

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Pairing: Husband! Dad! Morro x Fem!Wife! Mother! Reader

Type: oneshot

Status: Married

Summary: You share a few domestic moments with your husband and baby daughter after her birth.

Warnings: Mentions of pregnancy and birth (duuh)

Note: I'M A SUCKER FOR BABY FEVER MORRO AHQHWHSQHH!!!

With a final push, a small cry was heard throughout the delivery room. Your grip on your husband's hand loosened as you both listened to your baby girl's first cry. You could only look up to meet Morro's gaze as you panted softly, sweat and tears running down your face.

''We're parents..'' He said as a proud smile creeped up to his face, you could only respond with a small squeeze of his hand and a big tearful smile as they took your tiny daughter away. Morro sat on the edge of the bed as you leaned your back on his chest until you regained your senses.

"I'm so proud of you...you did great..." He whispered as he kissed the top of your head. Soon your child was brought to your arms, wrapped in a small pink blanket. You cradled her in your arms as she stirred and whined,but as soon as she opened her eyes, she went quiet. The master of wind watched the scene unfold before him, his newborn looking straight into her mother's eyes and all over her face, taking in every detail. Your breath was quiet, the tears were drying on your face.

"Hello, sweetheart...nice to meet you..." You said in a weak, quiet tone. "Yes, my love, it's me...you know me." You kissed her little nose.

Morro didn't even dare to say a word. He just watched in awe how his wife bonded with the baby. His daughter was deadly quiet in her arms. You watched your child sleepily as you touched her nose and her chubby cheeks.

"She's so tiny..." He whispered as he hugged you both close, his eyes not leaving the child. You leaned your head on Morro's shoulder in exhaustion, using your last strength to cradle her in your arms.

"What are you yawning about, angel?" You asked weakly as your daughter let out a big yawn before snuggling into your arms. "What are you tired from, my love?"

You held your baby girl for a minute or two more, fighting the urge to fall asleep on the spot just to savour a few more moments with her.

"Here, hold her.." You whispered as you raised your hands slowly to hand him his little angel. He felt her softness and her tender sweet warmth, in perfect contrast to his coldness despite her taking after him. The ex ghost kissed the top of your daughter's jet black haired head and then moved to press a kiss to her forehead. You watched the two of them interact while your baby wrapped her sweet little hand around your finger.

"You should rest, i'll take care of her." He kisses your cheek as he holds you both close.

"I don't want to...i want to keep watching you two." He opened his mouth to repeat himself, but realised there was no point in arguing with you.

"Daddy loves you so much...welcome, sweetheart..." He whispered as he kissed her cheeks, your little bundle of joy scrunching up her nose in the same manner you do.

"Do you remember how she used to hiccup all night long?" You began, breaking the silence. "My entire body used to bounce In the bed. She kept us both up every other night."

"And how she kicked? I couldn't hug you 3 months straight because she kicked me every time I came near you." Morro said as he held the child. "She kicked her momma all to herself.I couldn't hug my wife just because of my little angel, the struggle...Now it's my turn."

"Remember how I teased her? She pressed her foot so hard to my stomach that you could see the outline of her foot and she flinched every time I tickled it." You laughed quietly as your daughter held your finger.

You both leaned down and pressed a kiss on both of her cheeks, making her whine and stir. You took her back in your arms.

"Oh no, did we upset you, my love? You asked softly as she calmed down. It only took her a second to smell you, to taste you, to find you. The first person she learned to love.

"The way you hold her is just so...natural, like an instinct." To which you nodded quietly.

"It's her first day on this world. She must be exhausted. Just imagine it - spending all your life in a dark, hot, cozy place and suddenly you're cold, everything is bright and a scary doctor is holding you.." You say, cooing at the end.

"You've done so much today, little doll... you're tired and you're confused... being born isn't easy. You deserve your rest, love." Morro said quietly as he took her back.

"It must be exhausting to even be alive when you're so cute and tiny..."

"It's her first day away from you.." And then it hit you. You felt the lack of something, the lack of your baby. She was no longer a part of you, she was her own separate person from now on. And boy, did it hurt.You put your hands on your belly, the tiny bulge under your fingers filling you with a sense of lonelyness. You never thought that you would be feeling sad at the emptyness in your belly.

"I miss it.." you sighed sadly.

"She's ours now."

"It used to be just the two of us...I miss it so much." You said as you started to tear up. You leaned on your husband's shoulder for support as remaining awake became a great challenge. He put your baby girl in her little bassinet.

"It's your turn to get held a little bit.. you've done so much. You carried her and you brought her into this world. You're doing so wonderful already." A kiss was pressed to your forehead. "You did your job...and you did it so good. You're tired, you're exhausted, and you deserve to sleep."

And you did just that. You closed your tear-filled eyes and you dozed off to a deep slumber.

#ninjago #lego ninjago #lego ninjago masters of spinjitzu #morro #morro wu #ninjago morro #ninjago x reader #morro x reader #I WAS VERY EMOTIONAL WHILE WRITING THIS

[pallastrology]

jupiter vs. saturn: cancer

jupiter

they are more intuitive. jupiter is very comfortable in cancer, and this allows for their softer, intuitive side to flourish. jupiter is generally more of an intellectual planet, but in cancer they are more receptive to the natural forces around them. they have an almost motherly aura, and when it comes to caring for others, the native seems to know exactly how to help. they can blend the practical with their kind nature, which makes for a comforting and nourishing interaction for both giver and recipient.

they are more emotionally open. the native being more receptive brings about a disarming honesty, both to themselves and their loved ones, about their emotional state. they are unashamedly true to how they feel, and listen to their intuition. this is actually quite inspiring to witness, because as the great fiona apple said, 'when you know yourself, you know life'. they are able to reflect, and apply their self-knowledge to how they want to progress through life.

they are more hot-headed. the other side to jupiter in cancer's selfless warmheartedness is that they are more open to anger too. they can be prone to emotional outbursts, especially when stressed out or when not upholding their own boundaries. they feel intensely, and so anger is a very physical experience for the native, with them sometimes feeling out of control of themselves. grounding back into their bodies and learning to ride the waves of emotion can be helpful here.

saturn

they are more defensive. saturn in jupiter also feels their emotions intensely, but they tend to struggle with a real fear of being vulnerable. they hide their emotions away, distract themselves from them, and uphold overly strict boundaries to protect themselves from the pain of being hurt or mistreated. while keeping others away helps prevent certain types of pain, it only guarantees others, and the deep loneliness that saturn often feels will only be healed with genuine connections.

they are more self-sacrificing. when they do let people in, jupiter in saturn is a kind and caring placement. they can actually be too kind; although they are naturally self-protective, by the time they let someone in they've opened themselves up fully, which can sometimes put them at risk of being used by others. this just perpetuates the cycle of shutting people out to prevent being hurt, becoming so lonely they try letting someone in, getting hurt, rinse and repeat. it takes time for the native to break this cycle, and for them to build a healthier one in its place.

they are more devoted. that being said, when they find their people, there are few placements that devote themselves the way saturn in cancer does. family can mean a lot of things, but to the natives family are their people to protect and provide for, to treat with the tender loving care they crave for themselves, and to feel safe with. saturn in cancer's love is true, selfless and warm. to be loved by these natives is a rare and wonderful thing.

both

they both crave safety and security. the crab glyph of cancer clues us in to this; cancer, in all its placements, is aligned towards finding and maintaining safety, comfort and security. they crave the feeling of being embraced in the safety of the womb, and they go through life trying to replicate this feeling. they can display incredible strength when they are within reach of it, and are extremely protective of the things and people that make them feel safe and cared for.

they are both introverted. although jupiter is generally seen as a social and larger-than-life planet, in careful cancer it starts to become more introspective and is somewhat quieter, being brought closer to saturn. neither of them really at home around other people, they keep their circles small and protect their peace. they will go to great lengths for their loved ones, and don't dislike people, but they are happiest alone or with a select few people.

they are both deeply caring. there is nothing like a cancer's love and care, and jupiter and saturn both display a particular flavour of it. they perhaps aren't as emotionally intimate as a cancer moon or rising, but they have this kind, wise way with words and emotional intelligence. they love unconditionally, they want to inspire and help their loved ones to grow, almost like the kindest and best teachers do.

they both have strong memories. cancer is a sign that never forgets and for whom forgiveness can be a difficult topic. jupiter and saturn are no exception to this, though jupiter is more likely to attempt to forgive while bottling up their feelings, and saturn tends to close themselves off after being hurt. healthy boundaries come a little more naturally to jupiter and saturn, but they still have to consciously practice them.

#pallastrology #astrology #astrology blog #astrology post #jvs #jupiter #saturn #jupiter in cancer #saturn in cancer #cancer

[stevenbasic]

GITJ Post 297: Painting His Apartment, p3

I felt every inch of my nudity now, naked and exposed. 

My legs had failed, yes, through my climax in her hand. Their strength was now slowly returning, but my new Office Manager and even more newly-appointed girlfriend Melissa Monroe still held me up. It was the casual strength of her left arm down across my chest that supported me as we gazed at the spectacle of ourselves in the mirror. My massively outsized cock was deflating in her right fist as she towered over me from behind, now resting her chin atop my head and smiling with a grin that was huge and satisfied. She had just made clear to me how excited she was to have a new man in her life that could make her feel so big and huge and strong. The television was still broadcasting the enormous rallies of women across the country who likewise were striving to gain the same thing. 

”you w-want to feel big?” I asked, as my eyelids fluttered under the attention of her obliging right hand, which still gently squeezed and massaged my spent, sagging member, floppy and goopy with my own come. It felt nice, indulgently warm.

My query brought her smile a new sparkle, and she answered me with honesty after a moment of thought. “Every time, Jay, that I walk in front of a mirror these days, or watch myself as I step out of the shower,” she began, “I can see, little by little, how my body is changing. Expanding. Getting taller.” She watched my face, how I listened to her with rapt attention. The concept of her growing, the experience of every day her waking up as a larger and larger woman was exciting not only to her but obviously to me as well, and she enjoyed how enthralled I appeared. “Every time I step on a scale I’m heavier,” she continued, “Every day I’m putting on more mass, more weight.” At that she paused and regarded me with a new tenderness. “And with each pound I gain, I always say to myself, ‘It´s for him…’”

That came as a surprise. “F-f-for me?”

“Yes, for you,” she smiled. 

“B-but…why?” I asked, half in disbelief again that I had the attentions of such an incredible, beautiful woman. My fantasy girl, in so many ways. What was I but a middle-aged schlub, destitute and failed, sickly and small? A physician still, yes, her employer and erstwhile boss. Maybe my education and accomplishments were attractive to her, a simple girl of little sophistication. But I was older than her by more than a decade, ruined by divorce, and had seemingly so little to realistically offer. 

“‘Why?’” she repeated, “Why do I want to keep growing through clothes and busting through bras and - haha ripping through jeans? It’s so I can be more for you, Jay. It’s so I can take better care of you, protect you.” Still she gently massaged my softened member in her hand, all squishy, comfortingly. “And, besides…it just makes me feel sexy,” she giggled, “because I know you like big boobs.”

At that I flushed, in chagrin, caught dead to rights. ”Jesus, Melissa, you are sexy, you’re the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen, already…”

”mmmm thank you…” she purred, her eyes flashing into mine in the mirror, contented, “go on…”

In my post-orgasmic bliss I didn’t need any encouragement to continue singing her praises. “…a-and this w-weight you’ve, uh, put on…the height you’ve g-gained…”

“Yes?” she urged, lowering her head, now, leaning in a bit more on my left so our faces were right besides one another in the mirror - hers larger than mine, jaw strong, cheekbones perfect and eyes bright. 

“…it’s all…it’s all,” I struggled, fighting my hardest not to sound the sniveling simp but failing miserably, “…it’s all so amazing.” I felt her big warm breasts pressing into my back. 

“You think big is sexy, do you?” she asked, eagerly curious, “Big women? Amazons?”

“oh g-god yes,” I admitted, all caution apparently gone. 

My confession made her smile grow, to that of a jungle cat’s, feral. “Well, if big girls turn you on then I, little man…” she purred, still staring me straight in the eye, still casually playing with the wet, flaccid smushiness of my spent member in her right hand, “…I want to be the biggest.”

I groaned, despite myself, and felt myself somehow starting to waken, in her hand. Maybe it was what she was insinuating, or maybe it was her tits or her pretty face or her perfume, but - though my legs still felt weak and unsteady - my cock was coming back to life.

“Oooo, you think I should do that?” she laughed, obviously feeling a pulse of my new vigor in her hand, and hearing it in my throat, “You think I should go to the gym more, eat healthy, eat lots, get nice and big and strong for you?”

“oh, god, Melissa,” I moaned, eyes fluttering again and leaning back into her strength. I was so far past gone I didn’t even realize what I said next until it was too late. “Is it…is it just that you want to feel big..?” I stammered, now unable to keep her gaze and letting my eyelids droop, “or…d-do you like seeing me be small?” It was like all my submissiveness was pouring forth, the floodgates opening.

“Oh, honey, yessss…” she growled, her eyes flashing again into mine in the mirror, her mouth dropping open in thrill. With that, she delicately peeled her palm away from my now-spongy cock, taking with it a handful of my thick jism. In one smooth motion she slowly wiped it across my belly and lower chest, frosting me with sticky glaze, and showed me her hand. It still shone with wetness.

“oh god, Melissa…” I sighed. I knew - I fucking knew - how pathological the deviant psychology of this moment was. I tried to wrestle with it, resist, exert myself…but it was also just so fucking hot, sinking into this meek, obsequious role.

“Here, do this," she chirped with a new smile, holding her hand up with all five fingers extended, as if to indicate the number "5", “It’ll be fun…”

Compliantly, I mirrored the gesture, and she placed her hand against mine, sticky. My eyes widened at the revelation that my hand was roughly a full digit’s joint smaller, in terms of extended size, than hers.

"Now, you've got really nice hands," she continued, "smooth, soft...and small." She smiled, coyly and innocently, looking down at the size comparison, her hand being so much bigger, and then into the mirror, to watch my own reaction.”Haha, I bet that makes you feel pretty small, huh sweetie?  Seeing my hand look like it’s gonna absolutely swallow yours?”

At the word “swallow,” Melissa had curled her fingers down over the top of my fingertips,  wrapping her long fingers around mine, emphasizing even more obviously our size difference; it actually did look like her big hand was about to “swallow” mine. And worst of all, my reaction to all of this was to feel even more aroused.  Why was I getting turned-on by this craziness!?  What was sexy about Melissa dwarfing me?? Despite the ignominy, I answered her.

“y-yes…” I replied, “I…I feel small.” I looked up to see her staring intently into my eyes in the mirror, still holding my hand, threatening to fully engulf it in hers as the two stuck together with the crust of my climax.

She cocked her head, watching me, and then gently released my hand. “Here, turn around,” she said, using her hands now to move me by the shoulders, spin me until I faced her.

I wobbled a bit, my legs now on their own in supporting my weight now that she was no longer holding me up with her left hand. But they found purchase, and I found myself staring into her chest, mere inches from her formidable bosom in her big black bra. Jesus christ her tits were enormous, filling my vision.

“Y’know what else would make you feel pretty small..?” she next offered from above as she stood up straighter in front of me, once again absolutely dwarfing me, my head now barely at the level of her breasts. I needed to lean back for fear of being knocked over, and I watched as she put her muscular arms out to the side above me and continued: “...This.” 

At that, she clenched both her hands into fists, curled her arms and flexed, producing two solid, round biceps that I could not believe were that of a female, let alone my Office Manager and new girlfriend. “I’ve been working out a lot, for years, and more since I first met you,” she said, flexing again and watching as my line of vision had moved from her tits to her arms, right, then left, my mouth gaping in awed admiration, “And I’m pretty proud of the results so far. What do you think?”

My jaw trembled, and I watched as she continued to flex, to pump her arms up even larger, smiling proudly as she swelled up with the efforts of her hard work. It was ture, watching this woman demonstrate her strength and size above me like this was making me feel absolutely small and meager, bubbling with insecurity. “I…I don’t know what to s-say…” I finally admitted, piteously.

She smiled knowingly. "Not bad for a girl, huh?" she quipped, flexing once again, making her biceps dance and peak with muscular rhythm. “Here, give them a feel," she offered, standing straight and now posed in a perfect, double-biceps pose. Because of her distinct height advantage, her raised upper arm was above my eye-level and I needed to reach up to my right, raising my hands to place one on top and one below the swell of her muscle. Even with both hands I could not fully encircle the bronzed upper arm of this young, voluptuous beauty. Spellbound by her brawn, I squeezed, and then gulped audibly. She was soft, her skin smooth and warm, but below she was solid as oak, and her bicep didn't budge one bit to my effort. As I held on she lowered, then raised her forearm. flexing twice, and then laughed loudly at my amazed expression as my tightly gripped hands moved in sequence to her actions.

“You like that, hm?” Melissa chuckled, “You like my ‘gains’?”

“It’s incredible, Melissa,” I said, honest and earnest.

"Well, then, since we're on the subject of ‘gains’,” she beamed, as she lowered her arms and begin to turn around, presenting her huge, amazing rear to me, “how about checking out some more of my progress?"

“Whoah,” I couldn’t help but gasp, as her butt turned to meet me, halfway up my chest. Torn asunder as the seat of her jeans were, the glorious cheeks of her monumental ass cleaved by a black thong  bloomed out from ripped, time-faded denim under the dramatic light. 

She posed, like a professional figure model, lower back arched, shoulders back, presenting her rear for my inspection. I fought with all I had for self control to keep from grasping my hands onto her stupendousness and planting my face on her. I struggled with the urge…but then she invited me to do just that.

“My butt’s gotten so big. Can you help me, hun,” she asked, “to get these ripped up things off it? It needs a kiss…”

My heart leapt, and I let out the feeblest of little cries. She giggled, looking down over her right shoulder at me, seeing me absolutely overcome by the sight of her. Her waist, so narrow, and then the giant, muscular swell of her rear was a sight not meant for mortal eyes.

“Is that a yes?” she asked, with another giggle, and pushed her butt out another fraction of an inch towards me.

“Y-y-yes…yes, okay…” I managed, raising my hands now to take hold of the hem of her jeans on either side of her broad hips. I took a moment to marvel at the sight; she was wider across than me, possibly twofold. What would that feel like, on me? Me gripped to her, hanging on like a baby monkey to-

Shaking myself back to reality, I tugged down, tentatively, and immediately knew this was going to be a harder task than it sounded. I tugged some more, and then with all my strength. She giggled, because all I was doing was sending jiggles through her hips and flesh, cheeks bouncing up and down with my efforts.

“Do you need some help, sweetie?” she cooed, still looking over her shoulder and down at me, “Is it too much?”

I eyed her, and tugged again. “Yeah a little,” I admitted.

At that, her hands came behind her to join mine and, with a few giggles, wriggles and jiggles, together we were able to lower the jeans off her massive hips and begin to scooch the torn jeans down. Peeling them down her butt slowly, her big, vigorous glutes were grabbed lower by the tension and then *bounced* back upwards with seismic energy when the taut hem cleared their biggest swells.  

“*Boop!*” she giggled, as her cheeks quaked mightily and caused me to gasp, her ass now free of confinement. Lord god in her black thong little was left to the imagination, each tan cheek presented proudly like it’s own small planet. She stooped, a bit, bending at the knees to allow the jeans down her thighs, to her knees. Pushing me back even further her butt was huge, wider by far than my entire body. If I’d thrown my arms around it I’d have little hope of encircling her hips. 

“Making you feel small, sweetie?” she cooed, as she dropped her tattered jeans to her ankles, wriggling her hips at me. 

“Jesus Melissa you’re big,” was all I could answer, marveling at the perfection of her round, majestically muscular ass, “so much bigger than me.” 

She seemed to like that, and with a series of giggles off came her sneakers and socks, allowing her to kick the ruined pile of denim across the room. Next, she spun me around again so we were both facing the mirror, stepped next to me, her left side to my right, and put her left hand on my right shoulder. 

"Do this," she chirped, and extended the toes of her left leg, stretching it out and planting her bare foot a pace or so in front of her. Following her lead I imitated the move with my right leg. This time, she actually seemed to embarrass herself with the volume of her laughter, a sudden snort. "I'm sorry baby, but jeez! Look at the difference." She was actually holding her hand to her mouth to stifle her nearly uncontrollable giggling. Smiling along as best I could, I actually had to agree that the comparison was almost comical. Out of shape, my lower limbs were thin, yes. But not terribly below average for a guy of my, uh, size. Five-two? Last I checked…But, anyway, compared to hers my leg looked like a children's stickball bat, almost a full foot shorter. By simply wiggling her toes, Melissa was able to generate a ripple of well-defined muscularity that put my own leg to shame. Her thigh was toned and tan, thick and long, smoothly perfect and obviously powerful. Mine, lightly hairy, was thin and pale and weak. 

“What do you think?” she asked, beaming down at the comparative sizes of our legs and taking my right hand, suddenly, and laying it on her thigh. She glanced again at the sight of us in the mirror, her smile changing, and then back down to my small hand on her massive leg. I had to shake my head, disbelieving the size difference. “How’s it feel?”

It was, this huge expanse of female muscle, so smooth and warm of skin I actually shuddered. “P-pretty impressive,” I praised, appreciating the strength I could feel through the soft upper layer of her thigh, “you obviously put a lot of work in at the, uh, gym…”

“Yeah my legs get big quick,” she agreed, flexing her quadriceps for my benefit, making them ripple and pulse under my hand. She then playfully swung her hip into my direction, catching me in the middle of my rib cage as an unspoken reminder of her considerable size advantage.

Smiling down at me, our eyes meeting again in the mirror, Melissa made another non-verbal gesture of her physical superiority by placing her right palm on my head, then moving it horizontally in her direction until it stopped an inch or so from the top of her broad left shoulder. I smiled wanly at her and once more gazed at our reflections, side-by-side in the mirror on the back of my door. 

“I mean, godddd, look at us,” Melissa marveled, a new excitement deepening her voice. She’d pulled her leg back in again, my hand falling back to my side. She stood there, proud and tall, in her black thong and matching bra, while I stood naked, emaciated and emasculated.  I was struck again - and, I’m sure, so was she - by her blatant physical superiority over me. It set my heart quivering once more, and it was all I could do to keep from whining. 

She took the moment, watching us in the mirror, to raise her arms and release her hair from its ponytail. Her huge mane of raven hair fell in great waves around her shoulders, making her seem even larger in the mirror and even bigger in comparison to me as she shook it out to full volume. 

In an involuntary spasm of my own submissiveness, I had the sudden urge to give her what she wanted, to look even smaller, to emphasize and embellish even more the vast difference in our sizes. I gave in to the instinct and began to huddle myself, stoop, cave in my already thin shoulders, bend my neck, tuck in my chin. 

“What…what are you doing?” Melissa asked, chuckling at first but then a husky arousal taking over her voice as she watched me seem to physically start to recede next to her in the mirror, “Are you…trying to look smaller?”

I decided I couldn’t say anything, and merely grunted a weak reply, huddling down even further, bending slightly at the knees. Jesus what was wrong with me?! This was pathological, but immediately I could tell it was working. Melissa’s pheromones began to fill the air again, and I felt her left arm reach around my shoulders. I shifted down, further, under her arm. 

“Oh my GODDDD, Jay!” she groaned, wide eyed, putting her right hand over her mouth and stepping into my game, “You’re, like…you’re trying to be tiny!”

“I…uh…yeah…” I peeped, unsure of myself, inadvertently playing even further into this submissive role, “i-is that okay?”

“Yes yes yes please,” she urged, obviously excited, her voice dropping, and then adding: “do it some more.” She eyed me with new, aggressive eyes, and I could see her pick up her role in this little game…if it was really just a game, that is…and stand up demonstrably taller. “You’re getting so fucking small these days…” she breathed, nostrils flaring.

This shouldn’t…this shouldn’t have been a surprise to me. Women everywhere were getting into this “vulni” thing, looking for smaller, thinner, more submissive guys. It was the latest trend; why should I expect Melissa to be any different, right? I could…play along, right? But still, my male pride did have a bit of life left. “Hey, I- I mean, come on now,” I attempted, thinking I could maybe save some dignity with some ironic humor, “I’m not…not that small. Just smaller than I was...”

“Uh, compared to me, you are small,” Melissa insisted, her voice sounding dead serious, and not about to let me go. To prove her point, she again pulled me into her body, so that our sides were squished into each other, side by side.  Naked as I was, she in her undies, there was ample flesh contact, and I shuddered as I felt the pure pleasure of her warm, smooth flesh pressing all into me. Her thigh and her hip into my flank, and her JJ-cup breast plastered into the side of my head. I saw in the mirror that my cock, unsurprisingly, had sprung back to life. Melissa seemed to be focused on other things, though, and hadn’t acknowledged it yet.

“I mean, just look at us, Jay,” Melissa breathed. It sounded like she was as in awe of the comparison as I was, if not more. “Just a couple months ago we were basically the same height, maybe you were even taller than me,” she said, “And now, I’m so much bigger, so much taller, so much stronger than you.”

“Don’t remind me,” I muttered weakly, lapsing into the sullenness regret that I knew would spur her on into even greater indulgence. 

“And now,” Melissa continued, taking the feed, her voice quickening, “I’ve gotta be twice your size, twice your weight. Wouldn’t you think? I mean, my thighs might weigh more than you. They’re thicker than your waist. My ass totally dwarfed you, and my breasts…”

At that, she pulled me tighter to her, using her left hand to press the side of my face and head into her left breast. 

“…my breasts are bigger than your head, Jay.” 

I groaned, losing my fight with the urge to just turn my face to the right, nuzzling my nose into her bra and the firm form of her enormous left breast, a swell of which was bare under her armpit. I closed my eyes, breathed her in, and mewed little words. The scent of her deodorant, the scent of her perfume, and the swell of her side tit had me absolutely enthralled. I’d thrown all caution and dignity to the wind and decided to become utterly obsequious to her breast. 

“Oh my god, Jay…” she moaned, palming my head even more firmly into her, rotating her torso just a fraction so as to push more of her enormous breast into my face, “Wh-what are you doing…?”

My submissiveness was working, I was revving her up, and I felt myself responding in kind. As I nuzzled into her I fought the instinct to reach down and grab my stiffening rod, show her tribute by stroking myself to her. She would like that, I knew, but even I had enough self control to resist that urge. Instead, maybe I could get her to-

“Flex,” Melissa suddenly spoke, calling my attention to us again in the mirror. I’d opened my eyes, seeing myself hideously plastered into her left tit, and I met her heavy-lidded gaze with my own questioning one. What did she mean?

“Flex,” she repeated, her voice deep with arousal now, and as I felt the mass of her body alongside me seeming to gather itself for something, I immediately understood. To the best of my ability I did as she asked. Watching myself in the mirror, I curled my skinny left arm and flexed my bicep. I tensed my shoulders, stiffened my legs. The result was, yes, maybe you could now see through my pallid skin the meager framework of what muscles I had. It was pathetic, but it was me. 

And then it was her turn. 

Still with me nestled into her left breast, her left arm curled around me and holding me to her, Melissa began to flex. Not just the arm around me, not just the leg I felt alongside, the one I’d unconsciously started to straddle, but everything. I watched in the mirror, and felt all around me, as her musculature just swelled and grew, each muscle growing again to twice its size. Her shoulders ballooned, her lats flared. Her traps peaked and eclipsed her neck. Legs burgeoned, abs solidified. And all the while she watched me as I watched her, seeing me stare in rapt awe at the spectacle of a beautiful woman growing right in front of my eyes. 

Melissa’s body had become superior in every way, to nearly every human on the planet. Her muscles were becoming bigger, her limbs were longer, thicker and stronger. Her breasts were freakishly huge and firm, hips and legs shapely beyond belief. Her body’s perfume was a powerful aphrodisiac, her hair grew like a god’s, and even her skin was smoother and tighter, with a healthier-looking sheen than any mere mortal I’d ever seen. But even beyond this, unbeknownst to me at the time, there were other things that were becoming plainly superhuman with Melissa. Her strength, already you’ve witnessed, was unnatural…but what we’ve seen so far, what she’d shown me, was at that point nothing compared to what she’d been able to do now in the secret gyms and labs in which she’d more-or-less been raised. Her lung capacity had grown to match or exceed even the most elite of the world’s athletes, her reflexes and coordination were becoming extraordinary. The list could go on - her immune system, the durability and density of her bones, the fucking strength of her fingernails, for god’s sake - and I don’t think even she realized what she was becoming. She still couldn’t add a simple column of figures, though, or alphabetize a stack of files. But physically she was becoming unparalleled, especially by someone who was becoming as…well…feeble as myself. It wasn’t that I was sickly or unhealthy per se, it was more that I just looked fantastically unimpressive in the mirror next to my accentuated and augmented new Office Manager, who was currently flexing every single fucking superhuman muscle she had to make me look like a twerp. 

“It’s…it’s not even really close, is it?” chuckled Melissa, winking at our reflections and pulling my face more firmly into her massive bosom, “You and me?”

I mumbled something into her breast - I can’t recall what, now - and in the next moment she bent and I felt her pass her right arm behind my knees, her left coming to support my back, and I was scooped up into her arms. She looked down at me, and with a nod of her chin she directed my gaze back to the mirror where I was greeted by the sight of my girlfriend holding me in her arms like a small child. My head lolled, and I leaned back into her embrace, onto her strong left arm in an admission of my subduction. Her huge, beautiful smile beamed back at me, white and bright under the single light above us, as pleased as Punch at the figure we struck. “Look at us, honey,” she said, in fact, “It’s perfect.”  

I had ended up in Melissa's arms again and - turned back up to my caretaker's beaming face, her brilliant white smile and her twinkling golden-green eyes - would have been content to stay there forever. She wrapped her embrace around me tightly, practically sandwiching my torso between her enormous breasts and spun me around in a circle, laughing a bit like a crazy lady. It made my stomach twirl and head spin, but before I could protest she’d plunged her mouth onto mine, parting my lips with her tongue. Waiting for my world to stop whirling I attempted to resist for a full half-second before I gave up and kissed her back. Well, Melissa did all the work, really. She made out with me passionately, squeezing my body into hers. She spun again, and again, as we kissed, overcome and overjoyed in the moment, but then after a particularly quick twirl-

oof!

She suddenly had me pinned up into the wall again, hands holding my by the shoulders, her face scant inches away from my own.. Thankfully, the paint behind me had dried. “Did you like this before?” she asked, a crooked smile full of mischief making my heart flutter. 

“Oh god yes” I was just able to reply before she crushed me with another deep, soul-sucking kiss. My limbs stiffened  as - god lord - her tongue was once again nearly down my throat. I moaned into it, letting her know she could do anything she wanted with me. 

She broke our kiss, though, after just a moment.

“I can’t wait to get even bigger for you,” she said in a low, lusty voice, consumed by a passion that seemed to be gathering more and more steam,. “It’s, like...oh my god...I just can’t wait.”

I throw any caution I still had to the wind. “I...can’t wait either,” I returned. I was so aroused that I was having difficulty breathing…plus my breath was caught in my chest because she had suddenly started massaging my torso, running her hands down my chest, holding me to the wall with the exertions of her affection.”I want you to get bigger too…” I further admitted. 

“Oh my god,” she whispered, not quite believing what she was hearing, “I’m gonna do it…I’m gonna do it for you…”

“Jesus Melissa I can’t believe what you do to me already…”

“Yeah I can see…You’re so hard again...”

“Y-yeah...” I whispered back. It all seemed so crazy, and yet, somehow I could tell, to the both of us this moment had been a long time coming. I, at least, had just been too blindly proud, in my stereotypical thick male conceit to see it.

She kissed me again, and I seemingly had not a care in the world as I made out with this goddess of a woman. I didn't care that she was five, ten, fifteen, whatever years younger than me, that she worked for me, or that I was only recently divorced from a woman who would be hell-bent on ruining me if Melissa and I ended up together. At that moment she was my dream girl and exuded more raw sexuality than any woman I’d ever met. I was completely under her spell, and if she’d have me I was hers. 

Now beyond any sense of reason - if you want to feel big, does this help? - I instinctively wrapped my legs around Melissa's waist, to get into an easier position and put my weight on her hips. This had the effect of making me seem to cling to her larger body, like a stripling. Of course, it also had the effect of pressing my crotch directly against her stomach. 

She moaned, feeling me both hard up against her and my placing my smaller body on hers. “Oh god Jay yes let me carry you,” she sighed, kissing me and stepping away from the wall, sliding her arms behind me, under my bottom for support. She began to carry me around the room like that, me clutched to her body with thin legs wrapped around her lithe waist, her breasts ballooned voluptuously between us. 

Before I knew what I was doing, I was gently bucking my hips against her. Melissa chuckled into our kiss, driving her tongue even deeper into my mouth again. She tightened herr embrace, essentially giving me the 'go-ahead' to keep doing what I was doing. She held me to her as she carried me around the room, each of us driving the other wild. She kissed me with abandon, but pulled back after a while to allow me air and speak to me. 

"You know, I've…” she began; I could feel an unusual new trepidation in her voice, “I've done this a little before, as you can probably tell. Well, not like this haha but, y’know…”

“Yeah, I get it Melissa,” I said, my breath shallow, “y-you don’t have t-”

"But I never... I...I realize now that I didn't really like doing it until I met you,” she continued, a big smile now blooming on her face, gorgeous and earnest enough to melt my mind,  “and now I want to do it to you every waking minute! Some days it's all I think about!" 

“oh god me too Melissa..!” I cried. 

She groaned, and pulled me back to her mouth again, holding me to her like she never wanted to let me go. She kept doing that, driving me to the edge of madness with her kiss and the press of her breasts sandwiching themselves between us and covering nearly my entire torso, then gazing into me with such a lovestruck look and pouring out her heart to me.

“The only thing I can think about is turning you on,” she’d say. 

"I want you every minute of the day," she’d repeat.

And finally: 

"I love you more than anything," she admitted. 

I stiffened, in her embrace, my eyes going wide. 

She kissed my face, my cheeks, my nose and chin, my eyes and lips, in a frenzy of motion and emotion, and pulled my hips more firmly into her abdomen. 

“You don’t have to say it back…” she said.

<smooch smooch smooch>

“…I know it’s really soon…”

<smooch smooch smooch>

“…and there’s a lot going on…”

<smooch smooch smooch>

“…but I couldn’t keep it in any longer.”

“Melissa I-“

“Shh,” she stopped me, bringing a quick finger to my lips, “Not now, think on it. I just needed to tell you how I’ve been feeling.” She then took to kissing me again, first on my forehead, then down my face. 

Thank god. For myself I couldn't think or move or focus on anything except those lips, those plushly exquisite lips, kissing my cheeks, my ears, moving all over my face and down my neck as she hoisted me higher in her arms, that and the rhythm I’d picked up, humping her waist.  Melissa had me bent backward by the irresistible force of her massive boobs, and I was hanging in her arms as she ravished my upper chest now with kisses, so insistent that all I could do was hang my arms back limply as I swam in the onslaught of her lips. .

She was tireless, never wavering, never slowing down in her urgent kissing, and her hands held me pressed into her, rubbing me against her strong abdomen, with these sexy little cries coming from her lips every so often as she kissed me, now back on my mouth. 

“Oh god Jay I love you so much,” she gushed. 

“J-jesus are you sure?” I stammered, caught in this hurricane of emotion that was Melissa Monroe, my new Office Manager. I was, I have to admit, a bit incredulous. Look at her, and then look at me. “I mean… “

“Shh!” she stopped me again, almost in a scold as she read my thoughts, "I don't want you to ever think you're not right for me, Jay." Her eyes searched deep into mine and she squeezed me into her boobs so hard I saw stars. "I love you as your funny, smart, friendly self, not someone worried about not being good enough, or rich enough,” she continued, “These last few months have been like heaven to me. I've never been treated so wonderfully by any guy - boyfriend, boss, whatever - and now that you're mine I never want to let you go-“

“Melissa I-“

“Please, Jay, let me keep going,” she said, earnestly, a wild look building in her eyes, “If you wanted to quit everything and move away together I would do it without a second thought. If you wanted me to drop to my knees and worship you from the moment I woke until I couldn't keep my eyes open, I would do it. Or I can be your Queen, if that’s what you want…”

“oh god Melissa, I-”

She was speaking more quickly now, right over me, her fervor building. “I would do anything for you, Jay. I want to be your perfect woman. I’d quit working out, or work out so hard I'd be a hundred times stronger than you. I’d make my breasts smaller, or grow them so big they’ll fill the room. I'd do it all. I'd do anything you wanted. All I want is for you to please please just let love me you and trust me. Don't worry about rich guys or bigger guys or any of that. They don't even exist to me."

“Melissa I…I don’t know what to say…” I offered. It was so overwhelming, and I felt both so confused and so on top of the world. This goddess was practically begging me to just be hers, and not worry about any of the stupid things I was so concerned about. Because what is there, really, but love?

“I told you, sweetie, you don’t have to say anything,” she repeated, once again looking into my eyes like she was trying to decipher me, a crazed, passionate intensity in her expression. “But, Jay,” she then asked me, “can you handle a girlfriend who's changing like me, with emotions like mine? I’m big, baby, and I’m only getting bigger.” 

I looked into her face, overcome by the strength of her passions and seeing in her eyes the huge, cresting wave of her feelings and shaking with the thought of being swept away in her tsunami, taken into her ocean storm like fragile flotsam. Was I man enough to ride the wave out, surf her swells? God, I’ll stop with the wave metaphors but…yikes. You know what I mean?

What was my other option, though? To say no, pull away, be so cautious with my feelings and fragile frame that I’d rebuff her, tell Melissa that it was better for us to be apart? That way I could try to rebuild my life, my health, maybe start to repair my marriage. I…I knew what the reasonable, adult thing to do would be, and I knew already what my decision was.

“I want you, Melissa, I want all of you,” I said to her, “Get as big as you want - I can take it.”

At that, she basically exploded.

In a motion both smooth and violent, her hands slid up to grab me by the sides of my bony ribcage and I was lifted from her waist only to be <*SLAM!*> slammed onto my back onto my small kitchen table, which was right behind me. <*snAP!*> came from the tabletop below me, as she’d cracked the wood with my body.

As I regained my senses and, half-panicked, tried to sit, I felt her push me firmly back onto my back. I raised my head off the table to see what she was doing next. I followed her eyes to my own erection, which now stood once again huge and monstrous, rising up from my bony hips. Being manhandled by my girlfriend like this had thrown fuel on my excitement, and though I’d climaxed just a short while ago there was no denying how ready I was for her again. I felt the adrenaline of fear and arousal pump into my system as I watched her. Standing over me, towering between my outstretched legs in her pumped-up glory, her phenomenal musculature shadowed strikingly in the dim light, she looked down at me like a woman possessed. Her huge breasts heaved with each deep, mighty breath she drew as she looked down at me like a conqueror with their spoils. She’d grabbed my ankles and spread my legs.

“Did you like the movie?” she asked me, plainly.

“W-wh-whu-what?” I stammered, voice quivering, suddenly confused.

“Did you like ‘She-Hulk’?” she clarified, speaking more slowly, more evenly now, but still with the eyes of a woman of the wild, like someone unhinged. Her ardor and passion burned behind her eyes like flames inside two arcane gems. “The movie we just watched last night?”

“What? I-i-I uh…” I continued, still confused. I’d slept through most of it, but-

“You love the she hulks I can tell,” she said, cutting me off, raising my ankles now off the table in her hands, spread-eagled up high into the air. Suddenly I felt more exposed and vulnerable than I’d ever been, before her and her immeasurable strength and manic passion. My legs were spread nearly as wide as they could possibly stretch, and all my intimates were laid bare. She looked down at me, her mouth dropping open, my cock responding to the sight with a surge of new vigor. I felt like, as she held me like that, that she could snap me like a wishbone.

And then she started to flex.

“I’ll give you the fucking She-Hulk,“ she then growled, pulling my ankles up and towards her, doing a modified double-biceps pose while holding me akimbo. And then, with a deeply primal <*ROAR!*> of feminine rage, I watched as she suddenly redoubled again in size, muscles flaring all over her body, her frame quaking with the effort and the room around us shivering. My eyes watered, I turned my face away from the sonic assault, and if plaster began to fall from the ceiling or the windows exploded outwards from her impassioned fury I would not have been surprised.

As she continued to completely control me, she began to get even more aroused and her muscles continued to grow, every muscle in her body bulging. Her back arched and

it seemed that each muscle in her massive body was at least twice its normal size. My rear had been lifted off the table in the meantime, lofted into the air, and my cock waved wildly between my legs. Her eyes went once again to it and she became focused, like a laser, upon it.

<*SLAM!*> I was back on the table, my ankles still held aloft in her hands, and now her head was buried between my legs. Like a serpent dragoness she had struck, and impaled herself upon my already throbbing member. I was sunk down deep into her throat and I felt her lips and mouth and teeth spread wide and clamp themselves around my entire scrotum. She could have torn me out by the root with a single, fierce toss of her head, but instead she took to sucking on me, pushing my ankles back towards my head so my knees came closer and closer to me. This was an amazon-position blowjob if there ever was one, and I watched the mighty arms of my own personal Amazon Queen flex and ripple, surging and swelling as they held my legs up and my back down, helpless.

“oh god…!” I cried, “oh god oh god oh god!” My pleas, my whimpers and moans only spurred her on to greater brute force, and at a point I felt my legs might be torn out at the hip. But the pleasure was unearthly and my orgasm was imminent, and as I threw my head back I knew what she really wanted to hear. “H-how t-tall are you?” I asked, in a voice labored and cracked.

“I’m six-foot five, two-hundred and twenty pounds,” she snarled in a deep thunder, raising her face from my crotch for just the mere moment it took to answer before diving back onto me again.

In answer I craned my neck back, tilting my face to the ceiling and clamping my eyes shut as I prepared myself to be destroyed by my climax. “a-and how tall am I?” I retorted, whining, whining whining.

 “You’re fucking tiny,” she told me, and I exploded in her mouth.

============================================== big credit to Anuar at  @artaibyanuartor for the original image, before my rework. Also check his NSFW Patreon. And once again I have to tip my hat to authors, particularly Pac, whose style I am absolutely stealing here, along with some blatant passages and lines of dialogue.

My own Patreon is Here

#growing into the job

[elettralightwood]

Everyone, please, stand up and give a round of applause for the birthday boy, our one and only Consul, the hero of many wars, one of the best Shadowhunters of his generation, an amazing and loving father and husband and brother: our sweet, caring, special boy Alexander Lightwood.💙

"It’s the world that needs to change, and we’re going to be the ones to change it."

"We change the Clave,” said Alec. “From inside. We make new Laws. Better ones."

He knew Alec enough by now to know the conflicting impulses that warred in him. He was conscientious, the kind of person who believed that the others around him were so much more important than he was, who already believed he was letting everybody down. And he was honest, the kind of person that was naturally open about all he felt and wanted. Alec's virtues had made a trap for him; these two good qualities had collided painfully. He felt he could not be honest without disappointing everyone he loved. It was a hideous conundrum for him. It was as if the world had been designed to make him unhappy.

It was part of the dichotomy of Alec that had caught Magnus unaware and left him fascinated - that Alec seemed old for his age, serious and responsible, and yet that he approached the world with a tender wonder that made all things new.

Alec knew who he was. He knew what he had done and what he had fought for, and he knew what he would fight for in the future. And he knew exactly who he loved.

Alec, with his heartbreaking contradictions, shy and brave, relentless and tender.

"But that's what you're doing, isn't it? You're part of the fight just as much as the Shadowhunters on the ship—and I know you can take some of my strength, I've heard of warlocks doing that—so I'm offering. Take it. It's yours."

"If I’m a hero of war, so is he."

"Anyone who says women are weak is afraid they’re too strong."

"I hate it when straight guys think all gay guys are attracted to them. I’m not attracted to every guy any more than you’re attracted to every girl."

"Iz," Alec said tiredly. "It's not like it's one big bad thing. It's a lot of little invisible things. When Magnus and I were traveling, and I'd call from the road, Dad never asked how he was. When I get up to talk in Clave meetings, no one listens, and I don't know if that's because I'm young or if it's because of something else. I saw Mom talking to a friend about her grandchildren and the second I walked into the room they shut up. Irina Cartwright told me it was a pity no one would ever inherit my blue eyes now." He shrugged and looked toward Magnus, who took a hand off the wheel for a moment to place it on Alec's. "It's not like a stab wound you can protect me from. It's a million little paper cuts every day."

"No one blames her." "That never matters," said Alec. "Not when you blame yourself."

He deposited Chairman Meow on the ground, and the cat moved over to Alec, and rubbed against his leg. “The Chairman likes you.”“Is that good?” “I never date anyone my cat doesn’t like,” Magnus said easily, and stood up. “So let’s say Friday night?” A great wave of relief came over Alec. “Really? You want to go out with me?”

"All I did was think about being worthy of coming home to you"

He’d always assumed that storybook moments like these were meant for Jace, Isabelle, anyone but him. Yet here he was.

"You never called me back," he said. "I called you so many times and you never called me back." Magnus looked at Alec as if he'd lost his mind. "Your city is under attack," he said. "The wards have been broken, and the streets are full of demons. And you want to know why I haven't called you?" Alec set his jaw in a stubborn line. "I want to know why you haven't called me back."

"I did not make a pie,” Alec repeated, gesturing expressively with one hand, “for three reasons. One, because I do not have any pie ingredients. Two, because I don’t actually know how to make a pie.” He paused, clearly waiting. Removing his sword and leaning it against the cave wall, Jace said warily, “And three?” “Because I am not your bitch,” Alec said, clearly pleased with himself.

"Just because you said dragon demons were extinct—" "I said mostly extinct." Alec jabbed a finger toward him. "Mostly extinct," he said, his voice trembling with rage, "is NOT EXTINCT ENOUGH."

"Izzy. My sister. She told me you liked me. Liked me, liked me.”

"The Institute has a very old magic woven into its walls. I shall now use it to commune with my mother, wherever she might be found." He put his hands around his mouth and bellowed at the top of his lungs. "MOOOOOOOOOM!"

"Check you out,' said Magnus. 'My famous boyfriend, inspiration to the masses."

#tsc #shadowhunters #the shadowhunters chronicles #alec lightwood #alexander lightwood #happy birthday alec #happy something

[ramayantika]

–✦– 𝙂𝙤𝙙𝙙𝙚𝙨𝙨𝙚𝙨, 𝙍𝙞𝙨𝙝𝙞𝙠𝙖𝙨 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙒𝙤𝙢𝙚𝙣 –✦–

Usha Lakshmi Rishika Gargi

Ratri

All of it feels so confusing. Everybody is looking at me warily as if I will soon snap at me. Maa keeps asking me what is bothering me inside and I repeat the same answer: I don't know. I don't have answer to these damn numericals, to the questions about why I had to move out and live her away from school and friends and why I feel so low about my self. I used to call myself pretty as a child, but now when I look at the mirror, I hate looking at it. Soulless eyes stare back at me. My hair is unkept and lips dry. I cry more than I breathe.

This is not how Usha had taught me to be. This is not the friend Goddess Lakshmi had made. This is not the girl Gargi saw. I am probably not going to amount to something great....

I run to the terrace. It is surrounded by large green hills that appear a foot closer when it rains. When no person understands you have nature standing with you. The trees hear your sobs, the hills see you hold yourself so strong knowing that there are too many tumultuous thoughts in your head ready to break you. The gentle winds try to wipe your tears away and the moon becomes your silent friend to confide all your sorrows, pain and fears.

The terrace is shrouded in darkness. The stars too aren't playing in the sky today. The moon looks slightly pale today. Everything looks so dull. Just like me.

"Is the outside world dull or have you projected your gaze on them?"

Huh??? I swiftly move my head towards the direction of the unknown voice. I see no being standing.

"Look carefully. You shall find the voice, your answers as well as your happiness."

I was sad. Now, I will definitely go mad. I skim my eyes through the dark when a shimmery glaze blinds my sight and flies around me. It appears like those sparkle showers from Barbie movies when Barbie gets a new princess dress.

In the dark, dressed in shimmery drapes stands a woman who looks like a queen. A tiara shines on her head and on the centre, there is a stone which looks similar to a diamond. Her eyes are dark but they shine as if containing all the stars inside them.

She outstretches her hand towards me. It doesn't feel warm unlike the other goddesses. It feels cold and light as if a cool gust of wind has brushed my skin. Her lips curl and I hear her say, "I won't be motherly or behave like your mortal and divine sisters. I know the pains you are going through. I am not here to soothe the hurt you carry in your heart. I am the silent witness to all the tiredness, sorrow, hurt and pain that exists in the world for only during nightime does one express and release all emotions held in the deepest corners of the heart. I am here to tell you that this journey of thorns is still incomplete. Pain, sadness, loss is inevitable, but do not fall prey to it and break down. Release, cry, scream and shout, but take it all out. In dawn, when my sister Usha brings her chariot in the sky, your eyes must carry strength and hope once again. You will not lose. You will get there where you want. Good times and bad times follow each other just like we sisters- Usha and me."

She blinks those star-like eyes. For a minute, I see some sympathy, a little kind look at my condition. When I blink my tears away, her enchanting face looks hostile. She tilts her chin up and says, "My presence will be cold, will make you feel that the whole world is desolate, but I am a good listener. This darkness will bring you towards light. I shall always propel you towards it. Sometimes nights will start feeling tender too. Goodnight.... "

With a graceful turn, she starts flying to the sky. Her shimmery clothes flutter in the sky. I stare at those tiny sparkles and then she disappears into thin air. A tiny sparkle still sits on my palm.

#samridhi speaks #samridhi writes #we only have a few more to write ✨✨ #but ratri reminded me of my 11th grade I was sad and silly but okay we learn lessons #indian gods and goddesses #desiblr #stories #ancient goddesses

[sobeautifullyobsessed]

Defender Strange taking care of you, the woman he loves, following your injuries from a mystic battle...

(from the next installment of 'I'll always be holding you')

(edit used by permission)

You raked your nails through one of his white streaks, and he nodded, reaching back to pull out the thin leather binding that held his trademark ponytail. He shook his hair loose and it fell free, down just past his shoulders, allowing you to comb your fingers through it. “I wanna feel it on my skin, darling—and to feel your skin on mine.”

His eyes remained on yours and his plush lips framed an ‘o’ as he exhaled slowly in his own effort to be patient. With the ghost of a nod, Stephen knelt beside you. His hands tremored slightly, hovering over the hem of your top as he watched for your consent; at your soft hum and bare nod, he began to tug it upwards, then over your head to cast it aside. His lust darkened eyes widened, though not at the vision of your form finally revealed after all those months of imagining--but at the map of mottled contusions upon your precious flesh, proof of your pain and of how close he’d come to losing you before he’d properly claimed you as his own. His shoulders sagged, while shock and sorrow colored his beloved features; he gnawed on his bottom lip as his eyes flitted from bruise to bruise, tallying the fearsome toll you had suffered. Stephen shook his head in disbelief, those eyes that owned your soul filling with loving tears. “Oh gawd…oh gawd, baby…my poor, beautiful, girl…”

He leaned down, repeating the same, repeating your name, his forehead pressed to yours. “Never…never again, my love…never…never, never…” This time his kiss was fierce, taking you by storm, fueled by his need to prove himself the force of nature he would become when he needed to protect you. You held his face and relaxed beneath his desperate onslaught, opening yourself to his need to possess you—for your need was the perfect balance to his own.  

He had barely broken from the kiss before he murmured against your lips, “Tell me what you need, Y/N. Are you in pain? Please- just tell me what to do.”

Your heart felt wonderfully weak at Stephen’s loving fervor and tears of quiet gratitude leaked along the outside curves of your cheeks. “Oh, my love- I’m fine. I barely feel them anymore. The Healers worked their magic well, and…and I look far worse than I feel.” You breathed the softest kisses of your life upon his lips. “All I need now if for you to love me…and fill me up with everything that’s you.”

Obedient and tender, Stephen answered your request, painting a patient trail of open-mouthed kisses down your throat and across your collarbone, listening carefully for any change in your sighs that could signal your discomfort. He sighed himself when you sank the fingers of both hands into his hair, carding it gently while he caressed you tentatively. “It’s alright, Stephen. I’ve craved your touch for so long now, and nothing of your touch could ever hurt me.” You gasped in delight when his right hand found your breast, loving the warmth and roughness of his palm. “Oh gawd, yessss…” you panted as he fondled you and swiped his thumb across your peaked nipple. “More…and more…and more,” you pled.

Stephen left off with a lingering squeeze, rising up and moving to straddle your thighs. Through half-lidded eyes you noted the thick bulge hidden beneath his leggings. So close now, and yet too far to touch. For now.

His gaze held a mix of hunger and concern before his eyes strayed to the cruel markings on your ribs. Stephen shook his head, barely laying his hands on the bruises there, watching for even the quietest wince. “Don’t try to tell me these aren’t a bit tender, baby. I’m still a doctor and I know broken ribs when I see them.” He closed his eyes in concentration and the blue glow of his magic lit both his hands as he laid them more firmly on your injured flesh. A soothing warmth penetrated your barely knit bones as he poured his own strength into you. It spread from your bones throughout your torso, spurring you to lay your hands atop his scarred ones. Stephen’s unlooked for gift made you long in your soul to do the same for him. To soothe and to heal. To make his beautiful hands whole once again...

#another snippet 'cuz the chapter is taking forever to write #my writing #Defender Strange #"I'll always be holding you' part two #defender strange x female reader #defender strange x y/n #doctor strange fanfiction #doctor strange fan fiction #stephen strange fanfiction #stephen strange fan fiction #My Beloved Defender #Strangebatch #My Eternal Muse

[frecklystars]

When you're feeling better, what do you think your ship tag for ES Starscream is going to be? You always come up with the cutest ship tags. What stickers will you be using? :>

When I'm feeling better........... man I really can't wait for that day to get here.

"This is not a temporary love" is the first thing that comes to mind. I've thought of using these emojis ❤️🌟 but I'm already using 'em for Saren Stone's Starscream! Soooo... I'm not sure yet what emojis I'd use! I also thought about ✈️✨ but I think I'm already using that for G1?? Man there's only so many times I can put a star emoji onto something. I try to spice it up a little but I am nothing without my sparkles.........

Normally I wait until I see more of the F/O in further episodes before I come up with a tag, because then I'll try to make it fit more to their character -- but this is my Starlight. I don't care how he's written or portrayed in Earthspark, he's voiced by Steve Blum, he is automatically THEE one and only Starlight, just in a different form and a different universe, hehe. He may not be a continuation of TFP/RiD2015 but he's got the same spark, at least to me. We have that undying loyalty and devotion to each other in any universe. Him being voiced by Steve just makes him more... special, more official, like. I'm not seeing another version of Starscream when I watch ES. I'm seeing my Starlight, just in a different body, in a different universe. The same king of my heart who would lounge with me in a starflower meadow in the middle of the night.

I like to imagine that we would crash-hug into each other and all these memories of our love come flooding back. Like when you have no idea your soulmate is in your universe, but then you meet them, and your past lives catch up with you... that kinda thing. Is that a thing, actually? Is there a name for that? I don't know, I haven't thought much about my story with Earthspark just yet because it's still really difficult for me to reclaim those characters right now. But "This is not a temporary love" is something we always promise to each other and... I think it would be really special to reunite with him in ES and immediately know we are soulmates, even in that universe where everything is so different. I think he'd actually find my red energon necklace before we reunite at all, and he'd be like "I don't know what this is, but I feel some sort of attachment to it". and it gives him strength. and when we meet for the first time, we're suddenly like. oh I know who you are, oh I remember you from another universe that feels like a hundred daydreams away. oh you're mine. oh this love isn't temporary at all, this love has literally crossed dimensions and now we're hugging and crying and I swear I'll never let you go.

"I'm not going anywhere" and "I can't imagine my life without you" were also strong contenders, but that feels more like my Saving Starlight AU... "this is not a temporary love" is sooooo so so so so so dear to my heart. My favorite song to associate with him, my favorite phrase to listen to him say in my voice clips, my favorite thing I like to write him repeating when he knows I need to hear it. It's probably the very first tender thing I ever had Starscream say to me.

I need it now more than ever, it's gonna be a while before I can heal and really, truly feel it again. But I want to believe this love really isn't temporary, he's still here for me even if bad memories are trying to block it out.

#thank you for asking anon 😭 it felt rly good to talk about him again #i rly rly rly miss him so much... #anonymous #asks #keepsake

[abyss-of-mine]

Twisted Wonderland- Soft Touches

Warning: soft sex, not proofread

Leona laid bare on his bed as Alice straddled his thighs. She stroked his member while rolling the protection on him, feeling the throbbing need from him. She slowly and gently slipped him inside and sighed at the sensation of him. Her hips softly rocked and placed her hands on his body.

She stroked his muscles and traced the outline of them with her fingers. He slid her arms under his pillow and laid his head on the side, biting his lip at how gentle she was. She circled his nipple and rubbed her thumb along it. She glanced up at him to see he wasn't watching and reached over to his face to turn him towards her.

She teased him and rocked herself more heavily, getting a noticeable reaction. She stroked her hands up his body, touching the curls and outline of toned muscles to his neck, gently brushing her thumb on his lips. She bought her hands down his body and repeated the affection, hearing him moan and breathy sigh at the soft touches on his skin.

She cupped his face and rocked her hips faster, watching his expression twist and breathe out her name. She leaned down to him, kissing his parted lips. His hands quickly gripped her thighs and quietly growled when her lips traced down to his jaw, then neck.

He moaned loudly and felt a small bit on his jaw, his head falling backwards to reveal more of his neck. He bit his bottom lip hard as her hips pushed down on him harder. She sat up to look down at him and breathe out his name, touching his skin once again and ride his member with more vigor.

Her hips went fast, heavily and tender with how she pumped him inside her. Her hands stroked and massaged parts of him that caused a heated reaction, nibbling on his exposed neck and licking up his collarbone to bit his chin. Her tongue twirled inside his mouth and listened him moan through their lips.

He curled his hands into fists on her thighs to not dig his claws into her skin. He lifted his legs slightly from the closeness of his climax, needing to hold her as she finished him off. He used every fiber of his strength to sit up and wrap his arms around her waist while she took the opportunity to grab his shoulders and pound herself on him.

She parted their lips and heard every sound he had to give. She buried his face in her chest and tilted her head to moan along with him. He weakly kissed her chest and fanned his hot breath on the skin, calling her name with such softness.

She held his head and faced him to her, panting on their parted lips, then climaxed on each other. She kissed him and entangled their tongues together, touching one another's chest and swaying their bodies against the other.

Then Leona flipped her on her back and got in between her spread out legs. His hands brushed along her curls and traced up her body to her shoulder and face, running his thumb across her lips before tracing his hands back down her body. The same tenderness she displayed to him he was now returning, the same touching and stroking had her sighing in want.

He chuckled as he grabbed her hips and slipped himself back in, rocking his hips and leaning down to give her his affection.

#twst smut #spicy writing #alice x leona

[i-did-not-mean-to]

October 8th

Monsters

Ah, @melkors-big-tits...I don't even have the words to explain what your support has meant to me.

In my battle against indoctrination and shame, you've been more than just a help, you've made me laugh about things that used to make me cry...and that's invaluable.

This tiny snippet is dedicated to your beautiful art and to @thenookienostradamus's beautiful TRSB fic (Yeah, definitely go read that one, it's HILARIOUS and beautiful).

Thanks for everything ❤️‍🔥

Words: 653

Warning: a tad of sadness and references to NSFW things (but nothing happens)

Gothmog stared at the palms of what he would have confidently called his “hands” and sighed; he seldom ventured out of the fortress except on business – heavily armed and singularly determined – for a good reason.

It was ridiculous to take the throwaway comment of a wide-eyed brat and his sour-faced mother so to heart, but somehow, he couldn’t shake the gloom that had crept into the cracks in his tough skin. He should have killed them then and there, but, if he had given in to his most savage impulses, they would have been right and he couldn’t bear that idea.

“Monster!”

The very word echoed in his head even now and he shook it angrily, willing himself to dismiss the ungracious assessment as ignorance or uncalled-for fear.

“What is the matter?” Melkor padded in noiselessly; he had known that something was amiss the moment Gothmog had returned, whatever errand he had wanted to run seemingly forgotten, and had immediately retired to the most remote of chambers which was highly unusual for him. 

“Nothing,” Gothmog replied gruffly, but he had to consider that, if anyone might understand his predicament, it would be Melkor – the Dark and Terrible – and so, he repeated the slur flung at him so mercilessly. The very word tasted like bile on his steaming tongue.

“Oh darling,” Melkor whispered, slinging his arms around the solid midriff of his devoted servant and trusted officer in an impulsive gesture of solidarity and comfort, “they didn’t mean it…and even if they did, they don’t know what they’re talking about. You’re wonderful.”

“I am a smouldering pile of evil,” Gothmog whined, aware that he was wallowing in self-pity but unable to claw himself out of the roiling pit of misery, “I am a heap of discarded shards of violence.”

“You are a marvel,” Melkor contradicted firmly even though his voice was warm and tender, “and I will not listen to you disparaging yourself so. You’re the best at what you do, and your appearance reflects your inner strength, is there anything more beautiful than that?”

“I guess,” Gothmog sniffled pitifully, but his master’s words had pierced the hardening shell of despondency and despair; it was true that Melkor himself scintillated and bulged with his glorious purpose and nobody would ever have dared question his exceptional even if unusual pulchritude.

“What would cheer you up?” Melkor asked when Gothmog’s face didn’t tilt up with new vigour immediately, “should we go find some stray Elves and make them praise your beauty?” 

“It doesn’t count if you make them,” Gothmog objected petulantly; in the depth of his volcanic heart though, he knew that he’d forever be loyal to this whimsical and queer creature.

As monstruous as the Dark Lord might have been to his foes, he was known to be kind, supportive, and boundlessly entertaining to his own people which might explain why there was so little infighting under his rule. Could those who sought to smear his name and defile his legacy say the same about themselves? Gothmog thought that to be highly unlikely, but then again, the elves were notorious liars and cheaters…

“Make them? Me? I’d never,” Melkor swore with an exaggerated look of insulted innocence in his flashing eyes and – slinging his arm around Gothmog’s searing hot shoulders – he dragged the faithful Lord of Balrogs out of his hideout resolutely to take him out for a merry hunt.

Thankfully, his scouts had told him this very morning about a group of confused-looking, pointy-eared spies rummaging around in the underbrush like the scurrying, furtive critters they were. 

A bit of fun would surely dispel Gothmog’s bad mood and if he’d have to drag the poor wretch down onto the steaming remnants of their enemies’ dismembered bodies to make him feel how beautiful he really was, Melkor would consider that part of his duties as the caring and hands-on regent he prided himself on being.

So, remember kids, it doesn't matter what you look like and "beautiful" is just a word. If you're loved the way Gotty is loved (by me and Melkor), what difference does it make that he looks funky?

@fellowshipofthefics: eh, a bit of monster-loving (no, not that other thing, not me, never me loool)

Lots of love from me

-> Masterlist

#fanfiction #writing #IDNMT writes #fotfics October challenge #fotfics fictober #ficlet run #1 scene per day #a different pairing every day #the silm #the silmarillion #gothmog #Melkor #Melkor x Gothmog #it's hard to look like that #soft moment #and murder #hehehe