#I honestly would have loved it if we had had like a fight between the two and then cut back to Earth and Aaron Paul's character returns

[valkyurii]

it’s funny how things have gone full circle with malenia. she was so hated when the game first came out, but then people grew to like her. then the dlc came out and now people hate her again lmao

[butyoudidthis4what]

Perfumer

Jack Abbot x Reader

1.5k || All of my content is 18+ MDNI || CW: none I think. Hinted at sex and suggestiveness but that's about it really.

Summary: Jack smells the perfume you're wearing, flirty fluffy happy teasing ensues. That's it, that's the fic. Established relationship. No use of y/n or related. Zero proofreading of any kind. No beta.

A.N.: The summaries and titles will not be getting better I fear. After getting out some sadness in that last one I just needed something fluffy and happy and flirty. This is very self-indulgent as I love perfume and wish I had Jack Abbot giving me some and then smelling it on me, and telling me I smell good, you know? Honestly I'm quite shocked I wrote anything with like no level of angst in it that was just fluff. But my mental health needed some pure happy fluff with him so here we are. Anyway, this is exceptionally short for me and as with last time this is my first time back writing fanfic in a longggg time so please be gentle and kind and also let me know if you like it! The ending is very open, so there's definitely part two potential depending upon reception and if anyone would like.

“I should have known the trail of smell good was you. You always smell good.” Santos comments as she walks up to you while you stand by the center desk. “Do you own like a thousand perfumes or something?” 

Jack’s head popped up from looking at the tablet in his hands a few rooms down from the desk at ‘smell good,’ correctly assuming it meant you were here. You can feel his eyes on you and look over at him. “Probably not a thousand, but a lot, yes. I collect them.” 

“Why? Aren’t women supposed to want, like, a signature smell or whatever?” She tilts her head at you. 

You start smirking but Robby beats you to it. “Oh, she has to keep Abbot on his toes somehow.” 

“What does that even mean?” She looks between you, Robby, and Jack.

You bite your lip and stifle a laugh. It’s nice, having your relationship out in the open, having been able to get to know Jack’s friends. He’s still quite private though, which you respect, and know Robby is flirting with the line. You weren’t going to go quite as far, but can’t help the way it made you smile, in large part because it’s true.

It’s become somewhat of a game for you and Jack. You wear a different perfume everyday and he guesses what it is. He’s good at it, which isn’t surprising, he’s good at everything he does. It’s a nice way to have a close moment together. He likes buying them for you too to keep the game interesting.

It lets him read your moods a bit too. He’s learned that when you’re a bit down you have a tendency to go for perfumes that are heavier in a sense, more warm and comforting. And if you don’t wear perfume he knows it means things are bad because you don’t want to end up associating a smell with however you’re feeling or what you’re going through. He also swears they mix with your chemistry and smell different at certain times during your cycle. You don’t know why you found the idea of him being able to smell that on you so hot, but you very much did.

Recently you’d taken to layering some of them, in part to be creative and in part to make it more challenging for Jack.

“It means-” Robby starts.

“Okay, can we just not?” Jack asks as he walks over to you, shooting Robby a look and standing next to you. 

“I just think it’s cute how-”

“Still talking.” Jack cuts Robby off. 

“How the tables turn.” Robby shoots back, making Jack roll his eyes. 

“I was just trying to help-” Jack starts.

“Now, now, boys, no fighting in front of the children.” You fake scold them. This time they both roll their eyes at you. 

“Go back to work since you all still want to be here past your shifts.” Jack tells everyone, grabbing your hand and leading you to the doctor’s lounge. 

You expect a kiss and hug now that you’re in private, but instead you’re met with him pressing his chest to your back, one hand coming to hold one of your hips and the other moving your hair off one shoulder and tilting your neck before he leans in close to breathe you in. You can feel the soft skin of one of his lips brush against you and the stubble from him not shaving for a day. 

“Jack,” you breathe, heavier than you mean to, one hand coming to rest on his hand on your hip and the other reaching up to cup his face. 

“Celeste,” he murmurs against your skin. He’s right so you nod. That’s the name of the perfume you’re wearing on your neck and wrists today. “No wonder Santos picked up on you. Heavy sillage.” He gives you a kiss to the neck before pulling back to spin you and give you one to the lips. You smile as he does. “Stop smiling so I can kiss you properly.”

That makes you laugh, but you’re able to control it and in turn he’s able to kiss you properly, how you deserve to be kissed. “I love that you know what that word means and actually used it. It’s kind of hot.” You give him another kiss. “I’m making my military man into a perfumer.”

He hums at you, low and from the back of the throat. He loves it when you call him yours. “If you ever told anyone I would deny all knowledge of having a clue about what sillage and gourmand and all of the other pretentiously fancy perfume related words mean.” 

“I never would. Couldn’t ruin your reputation could I, Dr. Abbot? Plus I like having our little secrets.” You let your voice trail down on the last sentence, run your hands all over his scrub top.

His eyes darken just a little and his jaw tightens. He never really had any sort of title kink before he met you, but there’s something about the way ‘doctor’ slips off your tongue that really gets to him. Same with sir. 

“You’re not here for an ED related reason, are you? Hurt? Sick?” It’s teasing but there’s just enough of a tinge of real concern to the question that melts you. 

“I am not, no. I promise if I ever was here for such a reason I would make sure you knew immediately.” You smile at him softly, run a hand through the salt and peppery curls you love so much. “I just wanted to lay eyes on you, even if only for a moment. I missed you extra today. I’ll let you get back to work.” He nods, the little smile he gives you saying everything it needs to. You share one last kiss before going to leave the room.

“Oh,” you say, turning around and shutting the door again. “You’ve only answered half the question today. I just thought you should know.”

He raises his eyebrows. “You layered scents?”

“No.” You shake your head and smirk. He narrows his eyes a little as he tries to find the answer in your eyes. It suddenly clicks.

“Fuck me, your ankles?” He groans. “You put a different one on your ankles? Why?” He can already feel himself starting to fill out. He doesn’t know if he could articulate why he finds it so hot when you put perfume on your ankles for him to discover but he does. 

Your smirk widens. “For a fun surprise and to see the look on your face when I told you.” He glances around the room and then gets a look on his face like he’s thinking. You’re shocked, honestly. It’s so out of character for him to think about trying to do it at the hospital. It’s only happened twice. “Oh no,” you laugh, “no, no, no, Jack rabbit, you are not finding out here at the hospital, so don’t even think about places you could take me to try and find out.” 

He makes a noise of protest, somewhere between a growl and a whine that makes you bite your lip. He pins your back to the door with his hips and rolls them against you, grinding him into you to let you feel what you’ve done to him. “So what, I’m just supposed to go around like this for the rest of my shift?”

“Well you might want to take a couple of minutes to let that go down baby, but yes. You can finish your shift thinking about what could be on my ankles and what position it is you’re going to put me in to find out.” You press a kiss to his collarbone and his hands squeeze your hips a little harder, an unspoken command to look at him. 

You pull back and do as he asked. So big on eye contact, your Jack. He blinks at you, jaw clenched. “I’m going to be half hard and uncomfortable there for the rest of my shift, you know that right?”

“I am nothing if not a cruel woman.” You say with fake solemnity as you smooth your hands over his chest. “I’m sure as you get drawn back into work it’ll go away. Plus, you know the anticipation and wait makes it better.”

He somehow steps closer to you, almost puts a knee between your legs and leans in close, dropping his voice and making his voice even more gravely. “I want you to remember those words because you’re going to find out all about them once I’m home and I don’t want to hear any complaining.”

“Oh?” You raise an eyebrow. “Are you threatening to edge me, sir?” His jaw grinds and you see the slightest twitch under your eye that makes you smirk. You love that you can affect him like this.

“I don’t make threats, Doll.” He whispers at your ear as he steps back from you and pulls the door to the lounge open for you both to walk out of. Everyone glances up at the two of you, effectively forcing you to control your reaction as he keeps his voice low, only for you to hear. “Only promises I intend to keep.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Part Two is here!

[blythesarchives]

Masterpiece. | B.B

summary: You show Bucky some love in Wakanda.

warnings: Smut | 18+ MDNI | Wakanda!Bucky | Fem!reader | Insecure Bucky | Soft & emotional sex | P in V | Unprotected sex

a/n: I had this idea for a really long time but finally finished it after having it in my drafts for months. A little shorter, so it was a quick little thing. I have some WS!Bucky fics in the works too, so hopefully those will be out soon! I made Bucky's time in cryo about a year and a half, between the release of Civil War and Black Panther. Idk if that's accurate or not, but for this fic it is. ;; wc: 3.6k

You stuck around. Honestly, nothing could tear you from his side.

T'Challa had arranged for you to have private accommodations within the medical wing where Bucky's cryogenic chamber was, ensuring you could maintain a constant vigil over him. The aftermath of the confrontation between Steve and Tony in Siberia had left you deeply shaken - when you discovered the extent of Bucky's injuries, including his violently dismembered metal arm - you had been horrified and it took a lot to calm you down. It was more than just the physical dismemberment, but the repeat amputation and the weight of the emotional turmoil for him and you was a lot to handle at once. Upon finally reuniting with him, you couldn't help but frantically check over his wounds, your hands trembling as you assessed the damage.

His body covered in various injuries, dried blood caking his skin, and his once-powerful metal arm now completely destroyed from Tony's repulsor blast, the metal once white hot now blackened as the circuits and wiring were completely melted and fried. The intensity of your concern was completely justified given his condition, though Bucky repeatedly tried to ease your fears with gentle reassurances. Steve also attempted to comfort you, though he mostly let you and Bucky have the time you needed.

When you arrived in Wakanda, Bucky's anxiety about potential discovery had been eating him - the fear of being found and captured again weighing heavily on his mind. The peace you had in Romania felt like it would never come again, it wasn’t perfect, but it was enough. Steve stepped in, promising that Wakanda's advanced defenses and T'Challa's protection would keep him safely hidden from those who wished him harm.

While T'Challa approached the situation with grace and hospitality, you couldn't help but maintain a defensive posture around him initially. The memory of his vendetta against Bucky was still fresh - his determined pursuit with the intent to kill still dominating your thoughts. As he approached your group for the first time without his panther suit, your protective instincts remained heightened, positioning yourself slightly closer to Bucky's side.

"I assure you, my hunt for Sergeant Barnes is over, though I understand your hesitation," T'Challa’s deep voice carried a gentle tone meant to soothe and reassure you. His eyes held sincerity as he continued, "I was foolishly deceived and have seen the error in my previous pursuit and regret my actions. We offer both him and yourself sanctuary here in Wakanda, where you will find peace and protection. I give you my word as both a king and a warrior that no one will be permitted to threaten your safety. He will be free to stay as long as he desires."

You exchanged a meaningful look with Bucky, unable to fully mask the lingering hesitation that flickered across your features. When he met your gaze with quiet reassurance, you mentally scolded yourself for being so overtly cautious, though you couldn't quite shake the protective instinct. You felt like you were being unnecessarily paranoid, but after everything that had transpired - the chase, the fighting, the constant looking over your shoulders - you felt justified in harboring some anxiety about the situation.

Despite Bucky's outward display of calm acceptance, you could sense the underlying tension radiating off of him in waves, even as he maintained a brave face for your benefit. His stoic demeanor couldn't completely hide the wariness that years on the run had instilled in him.

You stood before him in the sterile medical bay as the team of doctors prepared the cryochamber. His warm hand gently cupped your cheek, those familiar eyes gazing at you with an endless depth of affection. "It won't be too long..." He spoke softly, his gentle words attempting to calm the storm of anxiety that swirled within you.

"Maybe not for you." Your voice trembled despite your best efforts to keep it steady, barely rising above a whisper to match his tender tone. "You're gonna be frozen in there, suspended in time - just a blink of an eye for you, while the rest of us watch the world keep turning."

He chuckled softly, the corners of his lips curving upward in that familiar way that always made your heart skip. "Yeah...well, Shuri seems to be pretty smart - probably the smartest person I've ever met, so hopefully she figures something out, so I won't be in there for too long." His thumb traced gentle circles on your cheek, a silent gesture of comfort.

Your hand drifted up to cover his, fingers intertwining as you squeezed gently, seeking anchor in his touch. "We'll get through this..." The words escaped as barely more than a breath, a quiet promise meant more to convince yourself than him.

The doctors signaled the chamber’s preparation and you began your gentle goodbyes. “You could always come in with me.” He hummed against your ear as his arm wrapped around your body, holding you close. You smiled against his white tank top, sighing shakily.

“I don’t think my body is enhanced enough for that,” You muffled against him, “But I’ll be waiting.”

He continued to comfort you, his whispered promises of return that hung in the air like morning mist. When he finally stepped into the cryochamber Shuri had engineered, your eyes never left his face. You watched, heart aching, as his eyes fluttered closed and the chamber activated, crystalline ice slowly creeping across the glass, gradually obscuring your view of his rare, peaceful expression.

Through countless days and endless nights, through seasons changing and the world moving forward, you remained by his side until the day finally came when the ice melted away and those eyes opened once more.

It took quite a bit of adjusting, but life in Wakanda was gradually becoming more manageable. The climate was intense, with the relentless African sun beating down mercilessly throughout the day, making even simple tasks feel more challenging. Thankfully, the pristine lake situated just steps away from your shared cozy hut provided a welcome respite, offering an escape from the sweltering heat whenever you needed to cool down.

Bucky's adjustment period, however, had little to do with the weather. The recent removal of his prosthetic arm left him feeling deeply unbalanced, both physically and emotionally. The titanium appendage had been a significant part of his body weight distribution, and after decades of having it surgically integrated into his body, learning to function without it was proving to be a considerable challenge. The sudden absence of the familiar weight threw off his center of gravity, leading to a persistent sense of insecurity and mounting anxiety about his capabilities.

Doing things one handed was difficult.

Bucky's stubborn nature only complicated matters further, as he refused any offers of assistance, no matter how simple or necessary. Whether it was moving heavy objects around their living space, managing his increasingly long hair that now required more maintenance, or handling basic daily tasks - he remained determined to maintain his independence.

You backed off, knowing that he needed space to process and work through things independently. While your nurturing instincts urged you to do more, you consciously resisted the urge to be overly protective or maternal. He was undoubtedly capable of handling himself, yet you couldn't entirely suppress your natural inclination to provide support where possible.

You focused on offering practical assistance - preparing meals when needed, keeping the living space tidy and organized, ensuring his sleeping area was comfortable with fresh linens and proper cushioning if he’d allow it, and providing help with daily tasks like dressing when his mobility was limited.

Small gestures of support.

Though Bucky was grateful for your help, there were moments when the frustration of his situation manifested in terse responses or visible tension. He would become a little snappy at you or too moody when you spoke, but you kept reminding yourself that this was hard for him. The psychological impact of being without his arm for the first time in literal decades, regardless of its origins, was something you knew was incredibly difficult. To try to subtly ease this behavior, you made conscious efforts to help redirect his thoughts from dwelling too heavily.

Your days took on a gentle rhythm - spending time with the playful goats that roamed the area, playing with the curious children who would gather around the hut. But with every day came night, and as the sun's light faded and dusk settled in, accompanied by the persistent chorus of cicadas echoing through the trees, you saw how raw Bucky's psychological well-being was being affected.

Most of his tears flowed from deep-seated anger - anger that burned within himself for seeing weakness in his own reflection, for feeling unable to maintain his composure despite all the hell he had gone through already. In his mind, he was stronger than this moment of vulnerability, he was better than this; the act of crying over the loss of his limb felt almost juvenile and shameful to him, even though in reality it was obviously not - it was a natural, human response.

But he was still used to being human after spending a lifetime as a machine.

You were silent beside him, supporting his trembling form as the tears fell, holding him close against you as you offered what comfort you could through gentle touches and steady presence. Your heart ached to see his pain in the endless stream of tears, but there was a small measure of relief in knowing he felt safe enough to break down in your presence rather than bottling everything up until it inevitably erupted in a more destructive manner.

"I...just can't...handle this anymore." He hiccupped against your chest, his fingers desperately clutching at your top as if it were an anchor, grounding himself from everything that threatened to drag him under. You carefully considered your response, walking the line between wanting to comfort him and needing to help him face reality without pushing him further into distress.

"It's okay to feel this way...I know this is hard for you," you soothed while you rubbed comforting circles across his back. "I'm here for you, whatever you need, whenever you need it. You don't have to worry about asking for help or showing your feelings..."

He let out a trembling breath, slowly shifting his position until he wasn’t so crunched up against you. His face was flushed and tear-stained, cheeks mottled with emotion, so you reached out to brush away the wetness with your thumbs. "There you are...handsome man," you cooed, your lips curving into a soft, nurturing smile that reached your eyes. It was a familiar look he loved, no matter how he was feeling.

"...I don't feel handsome," he muttered back, his voice barely above a whisper as he deliberately avoided your gaze. Instead, his eyes remained fixed on the intricate patterns of the weathered rug beneath you both, while the sturdy walls of the hut sheltered you from the biting night air that whistled outside. His words were heavy with self-doubt, pierced straight through your heart like shards of ice. Every fiber of your being ached to chase away his demons, to somehow make him see himself through your adoring eyes, to help him understand just how perfect and whole he was.

But this wasn't about your feelings.

You focused on soothing his wounded spirit, placing his needs above all else. "You are handsome, Buck Buck," you assured him, your voice steady and warm. "Nothing could ever change that. Not the loss of a limb, not the absence of your prosthetic, not a single thing in this world. You are everything to me, absolutely everything, and I want nothing more than to show you just how true that is. Would you let me?"

He finally lifted his gaze, his watery eyes meeting your steady ones. "I don't think...you want to right now. I just...I don't feel whole anymore. Not like this."

"Let me try?" Your voice was hushed, gentle as morning light basking over his skin as you carefully guided him back until he was seated more comfortably against the cushions scattered on the floor. He obliged with visible hesitation, his eyes a mixture of trust and lingering anxiety. You began to pull the silken cloths away from his body, revealing the strong planes of his muscular chest. His breathing quickened noticeably, an edge of nervousness creeping in as your hand drifted towards the delicate silk that kept his amputated arm hidden from the world's prying gaze.

His remaining hand caught your wrist, stopping you with an urgent touch. Your eyes immediately found his face, offering wordless comfort and reassurance. "It's okay..." You whispered, keeping your movements completely still to honor his hesitation.

"They had to take the rest of it...there's...not much left there anymore. I don't even...have a shoulder anymore. It's just...empty space where something should be..."

"Hey...shh. It's alright...we can stop right here if you need to. Know that whether you have something there or not...I'll have you either way. Every piece of you, exactly as you are. That doesn't matter to me - it never has, and it never will. I promise you that..."

He swallowed thickly, his throat constricting as a heavy lump forced its way down. Gradually, his racing heartbeat steadied and his breathing evened out enough to allow you to continue. In all his years, through all his struggles, you had become the only one he truly trusted to see him like this - vulnerable, exposed, and completely himself. It took patience and time, but you remained steadfast by his side and proved you were worthy of seeing all of him.

His fingers loosened their grip around your wrist, slowly releasing you as if reluctant to let go. With the silent permission, you carefully pulled away the silk fabric. His eyes squeezed shut instinctively, the familiar wave of self-consciousness washing over him as he actively avoided looking at himself. But those tightly closed eyes flew open in surprise when your soft lips pressed against the jagged landscape of scars around the area. His body jerked away reflexively at first, the unfamiliar sensation sending tingles across his skin. The touch still felt foreign to him, but just as quickly as he had flinched, his muscles began to unwind and relax beneath your tender attention.

"There we go...just let me love you. You are so perfect." Your words drifted between tender kisses, each one a gentle reassurance as you traced a path up his neck and along his jaw. Your hands moved up and around his body, touching and caressing him as if memorizing every inch. Your touch wandered a deliberate path from his hips, ghosting up along his sides until finally reaching his face, where you cupped his cheeks and drew him close, keeping him anchored to this moment. "Look at you...so gorgeous...you couldn't be more perfect to me. You know that? Every single part of you."

Your kisses continued, dotting across his face during your gentle peppering. The attention made his nose scrunching slightly as a shy, almost boyish smile spread across his features, transforming his entire expression. "You're just saying that..." He murmured, but your earnest words had already worked their magic, warming his ears and cheeks until they glowed pink, each sweet affirmation making his stomach flip.

"Oh no, I mean it, Bucky..." You hummed with such conviction that he couldn't help but meet your gaze. Your eyes held his, full of nothing but pure adoration as you whispered, "I mean every single word, every single time."

You continued to warm him up with tender kisses and gentle touches, taking your time as you massaged his body while you lovingly peppered soft kisses all over him. Your lips traced a path down his sternum and across his stomach, your fingers dancing lightly as they rubbed soothing circles over the sensitive skin by his hips, occasionally mixing in playful little nips that made him shiver. Gradually, you felt his body responding to your attention, his desire evident as it pressed urgently against you through the remaining clothes he still wore on his lower half.

"Are you sure you want to be with me like...this?" He asked once more, that deep insecurity still festering inside him like an old wound. He kept his gaze averted from the loss of his limb, unable to bear witnessing the damage that marked him. The phantom pains that plagued him were already more than he could stand - they seemed to intensify tenfold whenever his eyes fell upon the empty space where something should have been. His mind played such cruel tricks on him, tormenting him with sensations from a limb that was no longer there, an endless reminder of what he had lost.

"I'm positive..." You captured his lips in yours, pouring all your emotion into the sweetest, most tender kiss you could possibly give, wanting him to feel just how completely and utterly you adored every part of him.

When you were both fully undressed, you straddled him once more, beginning a slow and sensual rhythm as you moved your hips up and down, grinding yourself against his length. Your breath caught in your throat as you spoke, your voice thick with emotion, "Y-you...you're so incredibly beautiful...every single mark, every scar on you...none of it bothers me the way you think it does. I can see all that fear in your eyes...hear the doubt in your voice…but I promise you, I swear to you...it doesn’t. I love you. Every single part of you. All of you, exactly as you are."

You sunk down on him before he could respond with words, his voice strained as he moaned loudly, his strong hand instinctively finding its way to your hip as you moved against him with passionate intensity. His deep, resonant moans drove you forward, fueled your desires, and you maintained your rhythmic bouncing. Your own satisfaction was the furthest thing from your mind - all you wanted in this moment was to show him just how much your love for him was through every careful motion. You channeled all your attention into performing every little movement you knew brought him pleasure, carefully swirling your hips in tight circles, rolling your body in waves, varying the tempo and pressure while you recalled previous nights of passion and how much he liked every individual change.

"I love you so much baby, you know that right? You know how completely I adore you, what an absolutely perfect, precious boy you are..." You moaned back breathlessly, your eyes meeting his for a fleeting but intense moment. In that brief connection, you made sure every word flowed directly from the depths of your heart, knowing he deserved endless reassurance and affirmation of your devotion.

"You are a masterpiece," you urged, your voice carrying both fierce determination and infinite tenderness. "And you are all mine to cherish and admire every single day."

Crystal tears began flowing freely down his flushed cheeks, nearly causing you to pause in concern. Your lips parted instinctively to ask if something was wrong, but he spoke first, his voice thick with emotion. "I-I love you so much, sweetheart, y-you've always been there for me, through everything. You've shown me nothing but love and patience...even when I was struggling and being an asshole...”

His breath hitched as he took in a sharp breath, steadying himself to continue. “You were my warmth when I was stuck in nothing but darkness and cold...when I had no one else to turn to...when I had nothing left." His movements synchronized perfectly with yours, his body rising to meet each careful swivel and roll of your hips in an intimate dance of shared passion.

“You are my world.”

He throbbed inside you, burying his face in your chest as he tried to hold himself back from finishing but couldn't. He cried out into you, muffling his tears into your chest as he came - shooting thick ropes of hot fluid deep into your cervix and warming you from the inside.

Bucky remained still afterwards, seeming hesitant and uncertain, his body tense with what could only be embarrassment at finishing so quickly without ensuring your pleasure first. But that thought couldn't have been further from your mind - his vulnerability in these moments only made your heart swell with even more affection.

You guided his face away from where he'd buried it against your strong sternum, immediately capturing his lips in a deep, reassuring kiss before he could voice the apology you could see forming.

"Hush now...don't you dare apologize, Barnes.” Your tone playfully firm with the use of his last name, “I need you to understand...I love you. So deeply, so completely...whatever you think you're lacking doesn't matter to me at all. I will spend every moment showing you exactly how cherished and adored you are through my eyes until you finally see yourself the way I do." You pressed another lingering kiss to his slightly swollen lips, letting it stretch on for several long seconds before slowly pulling back. "And I'll keep doing it for as long as it takes."

"For as long as it takes, huh?" He echoed softly, a hint of playfulness creeping into his voice though you could hear the genuine concern underneath. "What if I need that every single day?" The question held a weight to it - you could tell he worried about being too needy, too demanding of your patience and reassurance. But your expression remained unwavering, eyebrows drawing together with fierce determination.

"Every single damn day, Buck Buck...until my lungs have lost their breath."

Thanks for reading - 💙

Dividers by @/strangergraphics | Images found on Pinterest

[katsu28]

oooh kait i love the list!!

what about lando + 50. putting a hand over the other's mouth where lando is yapping abt smth?

got a little carried away with this but fuck it we ball

lando norris x sainz!reader, 1.7k. request something from here :)

“Fancy seeing you here.” 

You glance up from your phone to see a grinning Lando leaned up against the wall next to you, and you raise an amused brow. “It’s my brother’s wedding.” 

“Yeah, I know, I was just—” 

“Why would I not be here?” 

“Jesus, I was just trying to be funny, you don't have to be mean about it,” He huffs, bumping his shoulder against yours with a roll of his eyes. 

“Sorry, Lan. You’re just too fun to mess with.” You tease, reaching out to pinch Lando’s cheek. 

He scowls, batting your hand away haphazardly. “Carlos said you were gonna be here early to help get everything settled.” 

“Aw, were you waiting for me?” 

“No, I wasn't.” You shoot him a disbelieving look. “Okay, maybe I was. I had to work with your great aunt, and lemme tell you, that woman is handsy.” 

“Oh, you poor thing.” 

“I know. All because you abandoned me.” 

“I had to help Rebecca with some last minute adjustments. And besides, It takes time to look this good, Norris,” You tut, gesturing towards yourself. The bridesmaid dresses Rebecca had picked out are absolutely gorgeous. Hopefully gorgeous enough to get you what you want. 

“You do look amazing,” Lando murmurs, eyes not-so-subtly raking up and down your body a little too long to be considered innocent. Mission accomplished. 

“You don’t clean up too bad yourself,” You reply, letting your gaze do the same. His tailored suit fits him wonderfully, and his hair is styled to perfection. You fight the urge to run your fingers through his curls and ruin it by pulling him close. 

Things between Lando and yourself are…complicated, to say the least. You were both young when you’d met, all the way back in 2019 when Carlos had done his time with McLaren. Since then, you’ve both grown up, kept in touch, and somewhere along the way, you’d come to a realization. 

You like Lando. A lot. And you think he might like you back, but neither of you have done anything about it. You flirt with each other like people who have feelings for each other and tease each other like friends, dancing around the elephant in the room whenever you’re in the same vicinity. 

It certainly doesn’t help that Lando is one of your brother’s best friends. He looks up to Carlos, respects him as a mentor, and wouldn’t dare make a move against his baby sister. But honestly, you wish he just would. This back and forth is starting to get a little old. 

Now is as good a time as any, with Carlos distracted on his big day. And what was that again people said about weddings being the perfect chance for blossoming romance? 

Someone with a headset and a clipboard comes up and whispers something in your ear, cutting your moment with Lando short. You stow away your phone in your purse, already prepared to follow them to attend to whatever needs doing. 

“Duty calls. I’ll see you later, Lan,” You say, straightening Lando’s tie with a sweet smile aimed at him. “Don’t miss me too much.” 

Lando chuckles, looking equal parts fond and amused. “I’ll try my best.” 

The next time you see him is right before you're meant to walk down the aisle together. You take your mark right next to him, smoothing out your dress one last time before looping your arm through his. 

He leans towards you, lips almost brushing your ear with his whisper. “Missed you.” 

“Thought you said you’d try your best not to?” 

“Guess it wasn't good enough. Listen, can we talk later?” 

He sounds uncharacteristically serious, and it has you giving him a cautious sideways glance. “Of course,” You say. You nudge him gently with your elbow. “Everything okay?” 

“Yeah, it’s good. Nothing’s wrong, don’t worry.” 

“Well, now that you tell me not to worry, I think I might,” You reply, brows furrowing. 

“Then don’t.” 

“Seriously, Lando? You couldn't have waited until after the ceremony for this? I mean, honestly—” 

Suddenly his lips are on your cheek briefly, causing your outburst to die off mid sentence. You stiffen momentarily at the unexpected action. When you turn to gawk at him, he’s looking straight ahead, a satisfied little smile gracing his face. 

You don’t have time to process anything any further before you're being guided towards the beginning of the aisle. Straightening up, throwing your shoulders back, you tighten your fingers around your bouquet of flowers. 

Now isn’t the time. 

The ceremony goes swimmingly. There isn’t a dry eye in the place at seeing just how much Carlos and Rebecca love and cherish each other. Every so often, you’ll catch Lando’s eye across the aisle and he’ll wink back at you, settling your nerves at standing up there in front of everyone. 

You start to wonder what he wants to talk to you about. Your mind immediately goes to the worst possible thing, but surely it can’t be too bad. Right?

Lando doesn’t bring it up until well into the reception. He catches your eye from afar, tilting his head towards the nearest exit. Everyone is on the dance floor now, nobody would notice if you left. 

He slips out of the large hall silently and you follow a few seconds later, only startling a little bit when he grabs your hand and leads you further down the corridor until you can’t hear the lively music anymore. 

“What’s going on, Lando?”

He drops your hand in favor of starting to pace, rubbing his palms over his thighs nervously. “I’m gonna be really honest with you right now. Probably brutally honest. And it might fuck things up, but I think I might explode if I keep it in any longer.” 

“Uh…okay. That sounds concerning,” You say hesitantly, shifting on your feet. 

“It is. I mean, no, it’s not, it’s nothing but, I just…” 

“Whatever it is, you can tell me.”

“I’ve wanted to kiss you all night, because you look absolutely stunning,” He blurts. “But not just today. I wanna kiss you all the time, and I know—I know I probably shouldn’t because Carlos is one of my best mates and you’re his little sister and he’d likely kick my ass if he ever finds out, but I don’t care, I—” 

“Lando,” You interrupt, fighting to keep your voice level. Finally, finally, something is happening. 

He continues on as if he hadn’t heard you at all. “—can’t keep doing this…this whatever thing we’ve been doing. I really like you, and I need you to know that even if it ruins our friendship.” 

Normally you’d entertain his yapping tendencies, but you want to tell Lando you feel the same way and he just keeps on talking like he’s the only one in this conversation, so you’re left with no choice. 

You push him back against the wall behind him with one hand splayed across his chest, the other hand coming up to cover his mouth. Lando’s ranting dies off the moment your hand touches his face, like you’ve just found his off switch and powered him down. 

“Can you please just shut up for a second?” You say exasperatedly. He nods quickly, completely doe eyed under your palm. “You gonna let me talk now?” Another nod, this one a little slower. “Good. I like you too. Have for ages.” 

Lando’s fingers curl around your wrist, prying your hand away from his mouth with furrowed brows. “You—you do? Really? Why’ve you never said anything?”

“Why haven’t you?” You shoot back, cocking your head. 

“Because…because!” He says incredulously, wrinkling his nose. “You’re Carlos’s little sister, I—he’d have my head.” 

You scoff. “Carlos isn’t my keeper, Lando. I’m an adult, I can make my own choices without having to consult my brother. If I want to date you, I can!” 

Lando’s gaze sharpens, the edges of his mouth curving into a smug little smile, and you know you’re in for it now. 

“Then let me take you out. On a proper date,” He proposes. It’s a bold move, considering you’ve still got him pinned against the wall with one hand, but his bluntness makes your focus flicker. 

Lando takes the opening and makes his move, now suddenly you’re the one with your back against the wall and he’s pushed himself closer than you’ve ever been before. For someone who was just worried about Carlos finding out mere seconds ago, he seems quite confident. 

“You’re sure you want to do this?” You ask softly, searching his face for any trace of doubt or uncertainty. What you’ve wanted for a long time is finally happening, but that doesn’t make you any less wary. If anything, it feels even more daunting. 

Slowly, Lando’s hand comes up to cradle your cheek almost delicately, like he’s afraid you might disappear into thin air if he moves too fast. His tongue darts out to wet his lips just before he leans in, deft fingers shifting from your cheek down under your chin, tilting your head up just enough to meet him in a gentle kiss. 

His lips are softer than you expect, tasting a little like the rum and cokes he’s been nursing all night mixed with something else sweet, and definitely living up to every dream you’ve ever had about this very moment. 

Lando’s thumb rubs along your cheek, a soft smile playing across his face when you break apart. “Believe me, I’m more sure about you than I’ve ever been about anything in my life.” 

You smooth out the lapels of his suit jacket from where your fingers had bunched into the material, beaming at him happily. “Always such a sweet talker, you.”

“Worked on you, didn’t it? I mean, it took years, but I’ve got you now, don’t I?” 

“Depends on where you take me on our date,” You joke. 

“Oh, I’ll take you anywhere you want, baby. Name it and it’s done.” 

“A sweet talker and a smooth talker. That could come in handy for when Carlos finds out.”

“No, it—why?” His voice squeaks on the last word, eyes widening almost comically.

You give his chest a firm pat, ducking out from under his arm to return to the reception. “Guess you’ll just have to wait and see, hm?”

“Sweetheart, c’mon! He won’t try to fight me, right? Right?” 

follow @katsu-library to be notified when i post a new fic :)

[pupkashi]

a/n: hi hi !! i hope you guys like this little one shot !! please let me know what yall think :3 <3 not proofread at all oopsies

obsessed with the idea of sung jinwoo, notoriously terrible with names, remembering yours after only meeting once. jinwoo is immediately taken by you, he debates letting himself get injured just so you could heal him.

the debate lasts but a heartbeat in his mind as he lets himself get a couple cuts on his cheeks, smiling as he defeats the beast in front of him before heading over to you. “could you-?” he motions to the wounds and you nod quickly, holding your hands over his wounds and healing them.

“thank you, i don’t think i got your name” he gives you a small smile, stifling a chuckle when he sees your eyes go wide at his statement.

“must’ve slipped my mind” you chuckle, “I’m y/n, it’s nice to meet you hunter sung.” jinwoo is looking at you with more interest than you thought he would, biting the inside of your cheek to try and hide your nerves.

“please just call me jinwoo, y/n” he smiles, liking the way your name fell off his tongue, “I’ll see you around.” there’s a charming glint in his eye that makes your knees buckle as you say a small ‘goodbye’ to him, heart racing as heat rises to your cheeks. you didn’t think you’d bump into jinwoo again, coming to terms with your schoolgirl crush that would go nowhere.

three weeks later you’re sitting in a coffee shop half empty cup in front of you as you mindlessly scrolled through your phone.

“y/n, it’s nice to see you again,” the deep voice pulls your attention from the screen, your eyes meeting jinwoo’s blue ones. he finds it endearing the way your eyes widen a bit upon seeing him, a smile on his face. “may i?” he motions to the seat across from you as you nod with a small smile.

“hunte- jinwoo, hi” you correct yourself, fiddling with your fingers as you set your phone on the table, “how have you been?” jinwoo takes a sip from his drink, pausing before replying.

“I’ve been good, what have you been up to?” he fights the urge to ask if you were waiting on someone, a date? the thought alone makes his heart drop. what have you done to him?

“nothing much,” you say, “was supposed to meet a friend for lunch and catch up but she had to go deal with some dungeon” the tone of dejection in your voice doesn’t go unnoticed, jinwoo frowning at your reply.

“im sorry,” there’s a small pause before he speaks up again, “would you like to join me for lunch? I would love the company.” the charming smile on his face has your knees weak again, your heart racing as you look at your phone, no text from your friend.

“yeah, that’d be nice” you reply, a smile on your face as jinwoo sits across from you, staring at the menu. there’s a small pout on his lips as he struggles to find any food to order. “there’s not many food options here” you speak up, “we were gonna just go somewhere else to eat.”

jinwoo’s ears turn red as he stares back at you, setting the menu down and nodding. “oh, didn’t know that” he mumbles. you smile at him, cocking your head slightly.

“is it your first time here?” you question, jinwoo’s cheeks are now the same pink as his ears, as his eyes go slightly wide before closing slightly.

“honestly, i only came in because i saw you in here” a sheepish smile on his rose tinted face as he scratches the back of his neck nervously. you can’t stop the heat rising onto your cheeks, the butterflies in your stomach going insane as you tried to hide the smile on your face.

“shall we?” jinwoo grins, standing up and following you out of the cafe. you thank him for holding the door open for you, mentally taking note of how much taller than you he was.

after a bit of wandering and small talk the two of you find a restaurant, entering and taking a seat. the conversation flows easily between the two of you, you feel strangely at ease despite this only being the second time you’d spoken to the man.

jinwoo offers to accompany you back to your apartment, you give him a soft smile and nod.

“y’know im a hunter too, right?” you tease, jinwoo laughs, holding his hands up in defense.

“sorry, just wouldn’t feel right if i didn’t even offer to walk to you home” the charming smile on his face isn’t helping your growing affection for the hunter.

there’s a comfortable silence between the two of you, your hands brushing against one another as you walk side by side. the two of you are looking in opposite directions, hearts racing as your pinkies link, a small shock is sent up your hand. neither of you say anything, jinwoo is biting his bottom lip, failing miserably at hiding the smile on his face.

“im kinda shocked you remembered my name” you speak up, breaking the silence and looking at the taller man next to you. “i heard you’re terrible with them” a small chuckle leaves your lips and jinwoo laughs softly.

“oh yeah, im the worst with names” he admits, his face is completely pink now, and he’s avoiding your gaze at all costs as he opens his mouth and closes it, thinking before speaking up again. “you just really caught my attention” he blurts out, trying to ignore igris and beru cheering him on from his shadow.

you’re a bit stunned at his words, heart leaping at his confession and you test the waters a bit by unlinking your pinkies and instead intertwining your fingers with his. “oh?” you giggle, as jinwoo’s blue eyes stare at you, the panic looked on his face morphs into a more relaxed confident one.

“I’ll admit I had a bit of a thing for you too” now it’s your turn to avoid his eyes. jinwoo smiles, humming softly and cocking his head “had?”

you stumble over your words a bit, “have, present tense” you finally say, jinwoo isn’t hiding his smile anymore, not even trying to suppress the small giggle leaving his lips.

the rest of the trip home is filled with giggles and bashful smiles, your stomach sinking a bit when you finally reach your front door.

“thank you for today, and for walking me home” you say, the two of you standing in front of the door. jinwoo is smiling down at you, eyes darting from your lips to your eyes. your heart skips a beat, not wanting your time with him to end yet.

“of course, anytime” he says, clearing his throat and snapping out of the trance like state he was in. the two of you are quiet for a second, giving him a small smile and wave as you unlock your front door. “when can i see you again?” he asks, a lovesick look on his face as he stares at you.

you can’t help but feel excitement bubble in the pit of your stomach, thinking for a moment before replying. “Friday, pick me up at 6?”

jinwoo smiles, nodding happily before waving goodnight to you, waiting for you to close the door before he turns on his heel. the giant smile on his face is enough for igris to tease him, he doesn’t care, he feels on top of the world. he stops dead in his tracks as he takes his phone out of his pocket.

how did he forget to get your number?

[moonstruckme]

Hello hello!! In love w you and all your writing 🙈 such a fan!! For a request, was thinking it would be so so cute to see cuddles where Sirius decides to comfort r in his animagus form (perhaps because r is sick or just had a surgery? seen so many cute vids where dogs can tell their human is not well and comforts them 😢) could be with just Sirius or wolfstar or poly etc etc! Thank you!!

Thank you for requesting angel!!

cw: hospital, brief non-sexual nudity

poly!wolfstar x fem!reader ♡ 1k words

“What’s your plan if a nurse comes in?” you ask in a murmur. 

Padfoot only looks at you with his big, black dog eyes. Guileless. You draw your pinkie up the line of his snout and between his brows. 

“Someone’s going to come eventually. I won’t let them take you to the pound or anything, but there’ll be a lot of questions for me. Why is it that you always have to make trouble?” 

He bumps his nose up into your palm. You could almost swear he’s raising one of his furry brows. 

You aren’t really expecting a reply. Secretly you’re happy he’s here, having somehow managed to sneak in before the hospital visiting hours and lying so calmly beside you in the small bed, getting incriminating pawprints and black dog fur on the white sheets. It’s a comfort. You hadn’t liked spending the night away from your own bed; you’d missed your boyfriends to the point of embarrassment, and Padfoot makes for a very cuddly companion after your long night. 

“Do you think that maybe if I hide you under the covers,” you tease, petting his head, “they won’t notice?” 

You fear you may have to put your half-formed plan into action when the door to your room unlatches. You look up, something that feels frighteningly like nervous laughter brewing in your chest, but it’s only Remus. He opens the door slowly, quiet in case you’re asleep, but his eyes widen when he sees who’s sharing your bed. 

“Sirius!” he hisses, hastily shutting the door behind him. “I’ve been looking for you, you twat.” 

You look down at your boyfriend’s canine form in dismay. “You didn’t tell him you were coming?” 

“He did not.” Remus’ expression is exasperated. “He said that he wanted to come see you, but I told him we had to wait until visiting hours.” 

Beside you, Padfoot snuffles moodily.

“Yes, well.” Remus pulls up the chair that’s along the wall for visitors, dragging it closer to your bed. “I don’t know what you think you’re going to do when someone asks how you got here, seeing as only I signed in, but that’s your problem.” 

You bite down on a smile. Padfoot seems unconcerned by your boyfriend’s threats; you understand why. Though Remus talks stern, you both know he’ll step in with a lie if anyone actually does question how Sirius got into your room. 

Remus sees your poor attempts at concealing your amusement and tsks, his own lips curving. “How are you feeling, sweetheart?” 

“I’m okay,” you answer honestly. You don’t feel your best, but you certainly don’t feel like someone who needs to be in a hospital. “Ready to go home.” 

“I’m sure it won’t be much longer,” he says. “They’ll likely just want to make sure you’re still recovering well before letting you go.” 

Remus is sitting close enough to reach you. His hand has begun rubbing your side soothingly; from your thigh, over the hill of your hip, to your waist and back again. It’s a fond, absentminded kind of touching. Petting you as you’re petting Padfoot. 

“How was your night?” he asks. 

You shrug feebly. “Okay.” You feel a humiliating need for his attention, and though your dignity puts up a fight the truth yanks its way out of you. “Lonely.” 

Padfoot makes a low whining noise, pushing his snout against your hand. Remus’ pitying expression suggests they’re in agreement for the first time today. 

“It was fine,” you say in a soft voice. Appease Padfoot by scratching under his chin. 

Remus’ thumb strokes over your hip. “Did you get much sleep?” 

“Some.” 

“Yeah?” 

You’re quiet, shrugging again. 

He gives you a soft look. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but you look rather tired.” 

Padfoot’s head whips around so fast, you nearly jump out of the bed in alarm. 

“I said not to take it the wrong way,” Remus defends himself. 

Padfoot makes a grunt-like warning noise. Not quite a bark, but almost. 

Remus looks at you beseechingly. “Sweetheart, you know what I mean. You look lovely, of course you do, it’s only—” 

“Yeah.” You put him out of his misery, stroking Padfoot pacifyingly as you suppress a smile. “No, I know, I didn’t get much sleep. It’s just never really quiet here. And nurses kept coming in.” 

Remus breathes out, a mixture of relief and sympathy. “Maybe you’ll be able to have a nap when we get home,” he suggests. 

The mere prospect makes your chest ache with longing. “That sounds really nice.” 

“You didn’t have much problem napping here yesterday, though I suppose there may have still been some medicine in you then. That, and you had more of the bed to yourself.” He cuts a meaningful look to the dog currently lying beside you. 

Padfoot’s head tilts in innocent confusion.

“Yes, you. Visiting hours have started, you can sit in a chair like everyone else now.” 

It seems almost like the dog rolls his eyes, but then he’s transforming. Padfoot is a big dog, but Sirius is bigger still, nearly falling off the bed but for the hand Remus sets on his back to keep him from it. Remus looks appalled. 

“Fuck’s sake, Sirius, I meant you could change back in the loo or something! Do you even have any clothes?” 

“Oh, simmer down.” Sirius’ voice is smooth, untroubled. “I think she rather likes having a bed companion, don’t you, darling?” 

A blazing heat has risen to your cheeks at your boyfriend’s sudden nudity. “I haven’t minded sharing.” 

He grins. “I thought you might enjoy the company. And it was a long night for us without you, too, you know.” The kiss he places on your lips is sweet. 

“Sirius.” Remus is beginning to look rather distressed, one eye on the door. 

“I appreciate you coming to see me,” you tell Sirius, “but I think you need to get dressed now.” 

“Hear that? She appreciates me.” He looks over his shoulder at Remus, who appears unamused. Sirius rolls out of your bed. “Alright, fine, I stowed some clothes here last night. Here it is, see?” He pulls a small shopping bag from beneath your bed, standing to kiss Remus before patting him on the cheek. “Mind the door for me, would you, handsome? I’ll just be a moment.”

[luveline]

would you ever write about hotch pining after r because he thinks she’s interested in someone else but then she confesses to him that she’s only ever had eyes for him 🥹

You’re shocked Hotch will let them look at him, honestly. When was the last time you saw Hotch receive medical attention? He doesn’t seem happy about it, suit jacket folded in his lap, his shirt cut in three places, most noticeably the left sleeve. 

“His arm is definitely broken,” Spencer tells you. 

“Do you think he’ll let me give him some comfort?” you ask, the two of you with your arms crossed against the side of the second ambulance, where Morgan undergoes a similarly reluctant checkup for his bloody temple. 

“No. You can always try, though. He’ll appreciate the effort.” 

You ready yourself with a deep breath and begin the short walk. It feels long then suddenly over at the same time. The only thing between you and Hotch now is a shoe’s width and the EMT securing his temporary sling. 

“They’re making me an emergency appointment,” he tells you. 

You fight the urge to rub the toe of your shoe into the ground. “Are you in pain?” 

“No. They gave me tramadol.” 

Hotch pushed you hard out of the way of a brawl and took blows meant for you in turn. He never lets you get hurt in the field. At first you’d assumed him to be the overprotective boss, and careful of women in the team, but you’ve caught on now that his motivation wells from somewhere deeper. 

Hotch loves you. He won’t tell you. You have no idea why. 

The EMT says she’ll return and takes her leave. You nod to the patch of metal flooring beside him, legs too tired to keep standing, and Hotch moves over to leave a gap between you suitable for turning into. You sit down with a sigh. Face to face, this close, you can see the different colours of his iris and the scar under his eyebrow clear as day. 

“You okay?” 

“Are you?” he asks with nothing more than a single short nod. 

“I’m worried about you,” you confess. “I wish you wouldn’t do that. I can take care of myself, okay? I don’t like you getting hurt in my place.” 

“I’m your Unit Chief.” 

“If it were Morgan, you wouldn’t have pushed him out of the way. If it were Emily. And we both know I can hold my own.”

He doesn’t look away from your face. “I know.” 

You’re finding it hard to want to scold him. You love him, too. You appreciate what it takes for him to take a fight that was meant for you, and the sentiment behind it. You’d quite like for him to protect you, just not at work. He could glare down potential suitors or argue with people who are rude to you at the grocery store. He doesn’t need to do your job for you. 

You raise your hand tentatively to his face, ignoring his confusion as you rake the hair that falls against his forehead back up. “It’s getting a little long for you.” 

“I’ve been busy.” 

“Me too. I keep meaning to do so much stuff but we get home and I get to my apartment and I just sleep for days.” 

“I wish I did something that sensible.” 

You curl your fingers over his shoulder. Without his suit jacket, you can feel the solidness of his muscle and soft tissue clearly. You rub your thumb in a half circle. 

“Why don’t you sleep much? I wish you would.” 

His eyes flare momentarily. His only tell, a flicker of movement you can’t miss. He’s surprised by something, your question, maybe your tone. “I do sleep.” 

“Not enough.” 

“No, I guess not.” 

You press your cheek to his arm. Can’t help yourself. He’s this strong, stern guy, so used to trying to save everyone that he barely looks after himself, and it makes you sad to think he’d love you and not want to tell you, because why wouldn’t he? Something in him must stop him from acting on it, but that something isn’t in you, not anymore. “Can’t believe you got your arm broken for me,” you murmur, lips to his shirt. You let out a breath, feel the warmth of it pass onto his skin and his following shudder. 

“It wasn’t purposeful.” 

“No? That’s good.” 

“I would do it again,” he says. “I thought you’d be with Morgan.” 

“Morgan’s a big boy.” 

“As opposed to me.” 

“I want to be here with you. I’m worried about you.” You press your face further into his arm, scared to say it even though you know it’s returned. “I care about you so much, ‘n’ you never let me show it.”

“That’s not true,” —his voice climbs higher— “I thought… You and Derek are close.” 

“He’s my friend, Hotch. It’s not like that.” 

Hesitant, tender all the same, Hotch’s uninjured arm slinks around your side to hold you, to bring you closer to his side where you’re hiding. You’re much too old for this, and still you have to confess. 

“I don’t like him,” you say. 

“As opposed to me.” 

You laugh at his repetition. Too embarrassed to say anything more on the subject but wanting to cement it in his head, you raise your head and your hand at the same time, knuckle to his jawline, nudging him to one side. You lean up and kiss his cheek. 

“Please don’t push me out of the way again,” you say. 

Hotch smiles at you, a proper, soft-eyed smile. “I won’t.” 

It’s an obvious lie. 

“Maybe when we go home we can nap together,” you suggest, heart slamming considering the innocence of what you’ve suggested. 

His fingers cradle your side. “You want to?” he asks carefully. 

“You can finally get some rest.” 

He closes his eyes, resting his face against yours. 

[baphometsss]

I don't wanna sit here and act like I'm a professional or anything, because I'm not, but as someone who has had to do a lot of work to overcome trauma and reconfigure my brain more or less from the ground up, there's a lot I have to say about Solas's mental state

We know that Solas was essentially used and abused by Mythal for millennia. Even if he wasn't under a geas, he was twisted from his purpose by being made to fight, and then created the Wolf's Fang which was used to make the Titans tranquil and started the Blights. He made those choices himself, but it's important to understand that no choice is ever made in a vacuum. She took advantage of his vulnerability when he was given a body after however long as a spirit semi-existing peacefully in the Fade, and moulded him into a weapon.

He is broken, because Mythal broke him. I'm not incapable of seeing why she did what she did because like I said, no one makes choices in a vacuum and I could write about her for a long time too (in a similar way to how I have had to do myself in my own life in understanding why others abused me). He was so traumatised by everything that happened and he was trauma bonded to Mythal pretty much from the minute he gained a body. Trauma bonds are not about love. He definitely interpreted it that way, as most people do, but that's the weapon abusers use to keep the victim under their control. Abuse abuse abuse show a scrap of love and then abuse some more. If I just take it, I'll get the love/attention I need. I will earn it, because love is suffering, and I have to suffer to earn getting my basic needs met from my family/friends. Mythal, as his creator, was the one who he would've attached to in a similar way to spirit Cole/human Cole.

Trauma bonds are pathological. Mythal made him believe that if he did as she asked, and kept supporting her, then eventually he would gain her favour and they would be able to free all the elves, and he'd be able to live according to his true nature, which is one where he doesn't have to fight. (Remember his personal quest in DAI? He actually kills the rebel mages for corrupting his friend--another Wisdom spirit--into Pride.) In reality, she was just using him. She always kept the bone just out of reach for her lapdog. The line from Rook where they say (paraphrasing here) 'you know, I was actually excited about getting your approval... That's how you do it, isn't it? Keep giving little scraps of approval to keep someone loyal, and then you turn around and betray them' is so telling too.

Where--or from whom--do you think he learned to do this?

It literally reeks of a pathological trauma bond and honestly, with how isolated, 'grim and fatalistic' Solas is, it is not a surprise that he's so broken.

Solas, essentially, is little more than a lap-dog to Mythal. He followed her like a lost puppy, because especially in his early days, that's kind of what he was. You have to remember that most of the insight we get about Mythal is from Solas's perspective, and he is not a reliable person when it comes to her after so long being repeatedly terrorised and twisted and manipulated. There are several instances where he describes being betrayed by her, and mentions some of the things she did, but he never quite holds her fully accountable and ends up directing his rage elsewhere. (The parallel between Mythal/Solas and the rebel mages/Wisdom is important here.)

This awesome post by @mythalism only reinforces this. He is so messed up in that scene, he is broken, he is holding the Wolf's Fang up, trying to give it to her because it symbolises the burden he has carried for thousands of years trying to avenge her death. He never wanted the Fang, like he never wanted a body. Mythal just stands over him, fully aware of what she did to him, and only getting him to stop because Rook petitioned her successfully, and the reunion with the more benevolent Mythal within Morrigan tempered her anger. She was a goddess, with the unequal power dynamic, right to the end.

As a side note, on the potential romance element between Mythal and Solas, I read an excellent breakdown of it on Reddit a while ago about how out of character it would've been for Solas to keep something like that from a romanced Lavellan, especially in Trespasser when he comes clean about his plan/past. I can't find it now because it was pre-Veilguard release, but it made a lot of sense to me. Solas and Lavellan never have a love scene in DAI because Solas didn't want to 'lay with them under false pretences'. Lying about who you are when sleeping with someone is nonconsensual. You can't consent to sleeping with someone if you don't know their true identity, and someone who knowingly lies about who they are to get into your pants is a sexual predator. For someone who led a slave rebellion (no doubt many of them being sex slaves), and a former spirit of Wisdom, Solas would've been well aware of this. In the unsent letter from Solas to Lavellan he says he came so close to breaking and desperately wanted to stay with them as Solas, with the implication being that that is where he planned to sleep with them once he'd come clean. But because he stops, because he's still unable to forgive himself or release himself from his trauma bond with Mythal, he breaks away, and they never have sex.

Bottom line: Solas would've been honest about it. Especially that. As the Inquisitor says, he can't lie about his heart.

And it's why the Solas/Lavellan romance is so powerful because quote, 'you change everything'. Solas thought he knew what love was, that love was loyalty, devotion, worship, etc. It's not just his plans or worldview that Lavellan changes. Lavellan sees him for who he is, without the mantle of Dread Wolf, and because of that he's able to express his true nature to her, even if he's not being totally honest in Inquisition. Lavellan got much closer to the real him than most, as he says, and changed his understanding of love completely. Unfortunately, he has unfinished business, an unresolved trauma bond, and his crushing sense of duty to the past is what keeps him from taking that final step towards letting go of it entirely. Trick also says Solas doesn't think he deserves love, which tbh is kind of a hallmark trait of people who have survived abuse.

And honestly? Call me a simp but I think he really was trying to get the Inquisitor to stop him. He saw himself being unable to let go because he was so broken and burdened by his guilt, and knew he couldn't save himself--was too proud to admit that he couldn't, because how pathetic does it make him look? And how could he stop now without rendering all the damage he'd wrought pointless? Yet here was someone who had changed him right down to his core, who understood him in a way few people ever had, whom he trusted, whom he loved in a way he hadn't loved anyone else before. It took him 'centuries' to build up rapport with the members of his rebellion. The man does not know how to form attachments without trauma, and suddenly he forms a strong one with someone who loves him completely and without condition. It's a jarring change.

Lavellan says that maybe they're being prideful themselves, refusing to see their own folly. But I think in admitting that they might be wrong, that it might be wishful thinking borne from misguided love to a truly terrible person, they've rendered the point moot. It shows self-awareness, which isn't folly.

If anyone can make Solas understand true love, it's Lavellan. Lavellan loved him when he was being his true self. Lavellan loved him after his betrayal was revealed. Lavellan loved him when his guilty conscience and terrible actions almost destroyed the world. Lavellan loved him because they knew the real him, and knew that his heart and spirit were broken, and knew that their love would endure, that their love would heal him.

And that's exactly where they end up. Healing the past, soothing the Blight, and loving one another completely.

[bueckers]

UNFINISHED BUSINESS ━━━ paige bueckers

i don’t wanna fight, but you got the wrong vibes. let me get you right, it’s how i apologize. ✶

synopsis: she broke it off, but has since had a hard time leaving her alone… especially when having to see her in person.

pairing: paige bueckers x fem oc

warnings: smut with plot, p eating ( p is literally EATING ), fingering, thigh riding, and slight angst.

notes: this is ridiculously long. in honor of her fit here, enjoy.. i loved writing this almost as much as i love the song lol. lmk if i should make a part two or maybe a series!

Nervous, excited, and borderline bald from tugging at my hair—these were all the things I had felt the moment I stepped into the WNBA 2024 All-Star Game.

I would be seeing Paige tonight. Paige would be seeing me tonight. Paige knew I knew she would be seeing me tonight, and I knew Paige knew she would be seeing me tonight.

When Paige and I first started hooking up, it was never supposed to be anything serious. She was sidelined with a torn ACL, and I knew she was in a dark place, struggling with everything that came with being forced off the court. I think that’s why it started, honestly. She needed an escape, something to make her forget for a little while, and I was there.

Paige and I have known of each other for years, though. We both came up in the basketball world at the same time, our names being tossed around in the same circles since high school. We’d cross paths at AAU tournaments and national showcases, always on different teams but always aware of each other.

Back then, our support for each other was more from a distance, and it wasn’t until college that things started to shift. We crossed paths more often, whether it was at games, media events. The rivalry between our schools added a new layer to our interactions, but by then, we had leveled up from distant competitors to something more like casual friends.

Those moments were what led us to where we eventually ended up. The more we talked, the more we realized how much we actually had in common—our experiences, our struggles, the pressure to perform, and the constant scrutiny. It felt natural, easy, to let our guard down with each other, which is why when her injury happened and everything else in her life felt like it was falling apart, I wasn’t surprised when we fell into it.

We had an agreement. Not one that was ever talked about soberly, but the way it happened just fell into place so perfectly that we didn’t need to. We’d meet up when it was needed, no commitments, no expectations. Just two people finding comfort in each other, filling a void that we couldn’t fill on our own. It was convenient, effortless, and most importantly, it worked for the both of us. I guess I figured if I kept things casual, I wouldn’t get caught up in something messy. I didn’t want to be the one to complicate her life even more.

We’d cross paths after games, during off-season, or whenever our schedules aligned, slipping into each other’s lives for a few hours at a time. She knew how to keep me at arm’s length, just close enough to keep me coming back but far enough to never let me in too deep. She knew exactly how to make me feel needed without ever giving too much of herself away. It was maddening, really—how she could be so vulnerable one minute, showing me sides of herself that no one else got to see, and then switch off just as quickly.

The more we hooked up, the more I started to realize I was getting too close. I could see it in the way she’d look at me sometimes, like she knew I was starting to care too much. And the worst part was, she didn’t seem to mind pushing me right to that edge. She’d say something that made my heart race, or she’d touch me in a way that felt like it meant something, only to pull back and remind me of our status. She was always in control, always the one with the upper hand, and I hated how easily I let her have it.

And then it was all done. She cut things off with a cold finality that I still can’t even believe. No explanation, no soft letdown—just a sudden, brutal end. It was like she knew exactly when I’d reached that point and she didn’t hesitate to remind me that it was never supposed to mean anything at all.

“I’m gonna go grab some snacks, alright? Try to look a little more happy for the jumbotron,” JuJu teases, getting up from her seat. I gasped, barely having any time to process her insult as she scooted between me to get to the stadium stairs.

“Very funny,” I muttered, watching her walk away.

Alone now, I focused on the game, doing an extremely good job at hiding the gnawing in my chest. I’d say I have a good poker face, but Paige would agree to disagree. My phone buzzed, jolting me from my thoughts. It was her and she’d finally found you. She was on the other side of the arena, clearly getting a kick out of having you in her view.

you mad at me or just deep in thought?

I rolled my eyes back to the deep depths of hell. Another text from her.

you look good tonight

you too. how’s the game?

As soon as I hit send, I regret it. I should have ignored her. I should have said something snarky.

Her reply comes almost immediately.

could be better. thought about coming over

what stopped you?

You watched her text bubble practically stutter, making you quirk an eyebrow.

juju. i didn’t wanna make it awkward.

lol. okay.

actually, scratch that. leave w me.

I shifted in my seat, my hands suddenly clutching my phone a little tighter.

paige, no.

why not?

I shut off my phone just in time for JuJu’s return, watching as she squeezed through mounds of people to get back to me. She handed me a cherry slurpee, which would however be gone in ten minutes.

“Thanks, sugar,” you teased her, wrapping your lips around the straw and taking a nice, long sip. She shook her head at me as she focused on the game again, nachos in hand. Ping.

Tell her don’t get too comfortable 😂

I could even feel her eyes boring into me from the other side. I could picture the stupid smirk or gummy smile she’d have. I turned my ringer off and silenced Paige’s notifications before slipping my phone into my back pocket and reverting my attention back to the game. It’s almost over.

Fast forward to the final buzzer, and Juju and I made our way down to the court, weaving through the crowd of fans and players. I always loved the energy in a room of women’s basketball players and fans— there were always a million things going on at once. As we reached the court, we spotted Caitlin, who was already deep in conversation with a couple of other players.

“Great game, Cait,” I said, pulling her into a light hug. “Guess nobody busts your butt as good as SC, huh?” I pulled back first, resting my hands on my hips. I could say I’ve known Caitlin as long as I have Paige, but Cait doesn’t know me the way Paige does.

Caitlin laughed, rolling her eyes good-naturedly. “Yeah, yeah, Miss Championship. but don’t get too cocky now.”

Juju laughed alongside me, adding a quick comment about how USC would give her a run for her money next time. The conversation flowed easily, a mix of post-game analysis and friendly banter. I scanned the court for a brief moment, knowing exactly who I was looking for.

Sure enough, out of the corner of my eye, I saw Flau’jae and Paige making their way over. I braced myself, knowing the cameras would be all over this reunion, and the media would have a field day with it. Paige looked as confident as ever, her stride always one that grabbed attention.

“Hey, y’all,” Paige said, her voice smooth, effortless. She exchanged hugs and high-fives with everyone, her presence commanding attention as always. When she reached me, she didn’t hesitate to pull me into a hug, her hand resting on my hip before snaking around to my lower back.

And then I felt it—her hand slipping lower, fingers grazing the fabric of my mini skirt. I could hear the smirk in her voice as she leaned in, her breath warm against my ear. “Good to see you.” Just close enough to keep me coming back.

I pulled back slightly, meeting her eyes. There was that smirk. My heart was pounding, a mix of frustration and something else I didn’t want to acknowledge. “You too,” I managed, keeping my tone as neutral as possible, pulling back with a tight-lipped grin that looked friendly enough to anyone who didn’t know what was going on. Which was everyone.

The group continued chatting, oblivious, obviously. You’d found out the one thing you hated about being around Paige was the overwhelming current of being the only ones in the room who knew how each other was feeling. Paige, ever the actor, kept up her usual easygoing demeanor, but I could feel her gaze on me, like she was waiting for something. I tried to focus on the conversation, but it was impossible with her so close, the warmth of her hand still lingering on my skin.

When the small talk finally wound down, and the others started drifting away, Paige moved closer, her eyes locked on mine. She leaned in again, her voice low, almost a whisper. “C’mon. Meet me,” she coaxed, her breath warm against my ear. Her fingers brushed lightly against my side, tracing a path.

I hesitated, the resolve I’d built up over the past hour crumbling under the weight of her presence. She was testing me, pushing every button she knew she could. And damn it, it was working.

I finally nodded, barely audible. “Okay.”

It was all she needed. A single, one-word confirmation that I wanted her as bad as she does. She took my phone out of my pocket for me, placing it my hand as she said her goodbyes to everyone else, leaving me there. I suppose it was smarter for her to do that anyway.

Shortly after Paige’s departure, I made my way out as well. JuJu wasn’t a tough barrier to get past. I told her to finish up her conversations, and that I’d see her back at the hotel. I wasn’t quite show how long my excuse would suffice, but I hoped she’d find her way to the bar or something after.

I don’t know why I listened. Watched my fingers click on her contact and give the driver her hotel’s address. It was like I was compelled from the moment she’d touched me, and to be honest, I don’t think I’d be surprised if that was the case.

The Uber ride felt interminable, each passing moment only heightening the anticipation and anxiety. I could barely focus on the city lights flashing by outside, my mind consumed with the impending confrontation and whatever would follow.

Finally, I was able to make my way to her room, feeling the cool air of the hallway against my skin as I knocked on the door. When Paige answered, her smile was as infuriatingly charming as ever, and she pulled me inside with a warm, yet testing glint in her eye.

The moment the door clicked shut behind us, Paige’s demeanor shifted. Before I could voice any protest, her lips were on mine, kissing me with an urgency that made my heart race. I barely had time to process the sudden change before she deepened the kiss, her hands roaming possessively over my back.

I tried to pull away, my mind still reeling from the fact that I was even here, but her grip tightened, pulling me closer. “Paige,” I murmured against her lips, trying to catch my breath. “We need to talk—” but as much as I tried to voice it, I knew that isn’t what we both really planned to do.

She silenced me with another intense kiss, her fingers tangling in my hair, guiding my head to tilt for better access. Her touch was relentless, her body pressing against mine with all the need in her body. “I don’t wanna fight,” she whispered between kisses, her breath hot and heavy against my skin. “Jus’ wanna be close to you.” She breathed in my scent, and I melted.

The words were almost lost in the heated moment, but I could feel the sincerity. She pulled back just enough to look into my eyes, her gaze smoldering with an intensity that made me rethink actually standing on business. She waited, trying to see if I was really against this. I licked my lips, glancing at hers.

I didn’t stand a chance.

Her lips found mine again, and the world narrowed to the press of our bodies. Our kisses were feverish and desperate, each touch holding some type of meaning. Paige’s hands roamed over my skin like there were so many options in a candy store and she couldn’t pick just one. In this case, one spot to focus on. Her mouth trailed down my collarbone, leaving a path of pinkish marks.

Our bodies were pressed together and refusing to let go. Paige guided me towards the bed, her hands never leaving my body, her lips continuing their assault on my skin. When she finally lowered me onto the bed, I was needy and breathless and finally feeling a little more realistic.

“P, I’m still mad,” I tried to insist, though my voice wavered as I watched her begin to undress. She unzipped her Nike vest slowly, the sound of the fabric sliding down her body making my pulse quicken. It fell to the floor, and she ripped off her shirt with a sudden, breathless intensity, revealing her sports bra. The sight of her, partially unclothed and vulnerable in front of me again left me speechless.

“I know,” she murmurs, her head slightly tilted as she looked at me all-knowingly. “And ima’ make it up to you, I promise. Just let me get you right.” Her fingers trailed up my bare legs, eliciting a small gasp from my lips. She tugged at the hem of my skirt, pulling the fabric down and grabbing my panties in the process. I watched her do it, in utter disbelief that this was how I was spending my night.

Her fingers graze teasingly against my kneecaps, sending shivers through my body, before she gently but firmly peels my legs apart. I look down at her. “You’re just trying to distract me,” I say, but there’s no heat behind the words.

Paige smirks, a knowing look in her eyes as she falls to her knees, her hands sliding over my thighs. “Maybe,” she admits, her voice dropping into a low, sultry tone as she tucks her lip between her teeth. “But you can’t say you don’t want this too.”

She’s right, and we both know it. The way she’s touching me, the way her eyes are locked onto mine with that look. The same one that knows she’s getting her way tonight. My worries seem so distant now, nothing more than a whisper of irritation in the back of my mind, easily drowned out by the way Paige’s hands are moving.

I begin to say something, but she easily cuts me off by diving into me with no warning, immediately humming against my cunt in satisfaction. Her eyebrows were furrowed as her tongue made some deliberate strokes, seemingly in disbelief of the way I tasted. She looks up at me as she delves in, a sight beautiful enough for the Louvre but way too sinful.

She says something I can’t hear, but I do catch a, “Can’t leave you alone, ever. Fuck.”

“Yeah?” I muster out, my breath a careless whisper.

Paige smiles against me, loving the cocky tone in my voice as she responds with a fast nod, the movement making me gasp. “Yeah.”

From there, every moan and gasp from me seems to fuel her desire, making her work even harder to drive me wild. Her hands grip my hips firmly, keeping me in place as her mouth and tongue continue their relentless assault. In the haze of ecstasy, all I can focus on is the feeling of her between my legs, making good on her promise to get me right, leaving me utterly consumed by the pleasure she’s giving.

I come, loud enough that the neighbors might know Paige’s name, but she keeps going. It becomes too much, enough for me to whine and pull away, scooting a little bit higher on the bed. She isn’t going for it, though, and immediately brings me back to her mouth, wrapping my legs in her thick arms.

“Where you tryna’ go, princess?” she teases. The sensation of her mouth and fingers on me is so intoxicating that I can barely respond before she pulls back entirely, rising to her feet. She begins to peel off her pants, her movements slow, leaving me breathless and frustrated.

“Seriously?” I complain.

“Chill,” she responds with a husky chuckle, towering over me in the sexiest way explainable. It’s like she contemplates something in her head for a moment, leaving me dripping wet and needy before her.

Finally, Paige steps closer, her hands sliding down to her sports bra. With a teasing glance, she pulls it off, revealing her bare chest. My eyes widen as I take in her form, unable to tear my gaze away. She then sits back down, positioning herself comfortably on the edge of the bed. “Want you to get on my thigh, baby, m’kay?” And there was no room for argument.

I crawl toward her, a mixture of urgency and anticipation in my movements. Once I’m seated on her thigh, I start to ride it slowly, the friction sending waves of pleasure through me. I truly can’t believe we haven’t done this before. The way she flexes, the way I can feel her muscle.. it’s all too much.

I roll my head back, needing more. My hands find Paige’s boxers, slipping into them with ease as she watches, her eyes moving more than her actual head. My fingers find their way to her core, exploring.

Paige’s breath hitches, her fingers gripping my hip as she watches me intently. “You like that, don’t you?” she breathes, her voice filled with a mixture of desire and all things Paige. “You’ve got me exactly where you want me.”

I stare at her. My body and arm moving repeatedly, my hair a bit puffy at this rate, and a panting mess. Paige raises her thumb to my plump and parted lips, slipping it in. I moan out, forced to suck around it as I squeeze my eyes shut.

Paige is in a trance, completely focused on the warmth around her thumb and how your small fingers disappear into her. “So, so, so good. Love seeing you above me, baby. So pretty.” I couldn’t understand how she could say things like these, and happen to not mean them, but it was the last thing on my mind.

“Mfmfmm, I’m gonna come. Again.”

Paige’s response is a series of breathy moans, her hands gripping my hips tightly as she keeps me pressed down, every thrust and touch pushing us both closer to the edge.

As she finally shudders, her release crashes over her like a tidal wave, her body trembling violently. The sensation of her coming around my fingers makes my own climax come shortly after. I cry out, my own pleasure peaking as I grind against her, my fingers thrusting in and out.

Our combined releases feel explosive, a storm of heat and passion that has us both gasping and moaning. I feel her tremors against my fingers as I continue to move, riding out the last waves of ecstasy before finally collapsing against her, both of us spent and tangled together in a sated, sweaty mess.

I think I’ll regret this in the morning. But right now? I’ve never been happier.

[losers-clvb]

p*rnstar // soldier boy

summary: on camera, ben fucks you like he hates you, because he does.

content: smut, honestly too many warnings to list, proceed with caution

word count: 5.1k

note: please god let me into heaven.

masterlist

----

“Together, as a united front, we can work toward an equal future. Again, a special thanks to Vought and Mr. Soldier Boy-,”

“Ben is alright, sweetheart.”

Of course the son of a bitch couldn’t keep his mouth shut through the end of your speech. And that little pet name? How fucking demeaning was that when you had reminded him many, many times to not call you that. You tried to hide the annoyance you immediately felt ping through you, thankful for the intense media training you had gone through.

“Thank you to Vought and Ben,” you let the name slip out dripping with venom disguised as honey, “for contributing their time and money to this cause.” You smiled out at the crowd of women and children alike.

“Oh, it’s no bother. I love the ladies!” Ben leaned into the podium, hand sliding against your hip to keep you from stumbling. You wouldn’t have stumbled if it weren’t for him pushing you over, but you couldn’t do much about that in the moment. You hid the elbow jab you gave him. The blow was met with a dazzling smile from Ben.

You hated the way the crowd laughed and cheered at him. Could they not remember how just a month ago you were seething at the misogynistic nature of the man? He hadn’t changed that quickly, despite the story Vought was trying to spin. They had all but threatened you to allow Soldier Boy to co-host your rally. Though, your final breaking point had been the very generous donation to your charity for domestic violence survivors.

You had been under the impression that Stan Edgar had Soldier Boy on a tight leash. The truth, to your displeasure, was the complete opposite. Ben practically ran the place, walking Edgar like a dog any chance he could. You were quick to fight back with him, but the murderous look he would give you back made you shut up before anything truly bossy came out.

“I hope to see you all again! Long live the American spirit!” You called out before yanking your body from Ben’s hold. You managed to keep your storming reined in until you were back into the lobby of the hotel you were staying in. You huffed out a pissed off breath and stepped into the elevator. Forcefully pushing the button for your floor, you caught a glimpse of Ben sauntering his way toward you.

“Oh, hell no.” You mumbled, clicking the “close door” button so many times you were sure it would break. The doors were so close, barely an inch of space between them, when he stuck his hand to stop them.

“No.” You said, glaring at him. He only smirked back at you and let the doors close with him inside.

“You’re a bitch, you know that?” Ben asked. You couldn’t help the small gasp that fell out.

“You’re a fucking dick.” You seethed, staring at the screen with the floor numbers. The elevator was moving far too slowly. You wished you had a floor closer to ground level, but that was frowned upon by security.

“Woah there, sweetheart!” Ben exclaimed, turning to you. “Your loyal bunch of sheep know you speak like that?”

“Shut up.” You were tempted to hit a button for a closer floor and climb the stairs the rest of the way.

“I’d bet all you need to get that attitude out is a good fucking.”

You whipped your head to him, looking at him like he was crazy. He had a challenging look in his eye, like he was waiting for you to take the bait. No. No way were you going to lower your standards just because it had been approximately ten months since your last orgasm.

“Yeah,” he chuckled out, eyes raking up and down your body. “You just need a nice, big cock in that mouth to keep it quiet.”

“Well, what a shame there isn’t any around.” You shot back. It was a weak argument. You had heard… rumors about his many hookups. He was well endowed and he knew it.

“Doll, if you wanted a peek you could’ve just asked. No need to come for a man’s dick size.” He locked his gaze onto the swell of your breasts. “I bet you’d look so fuckin’ pretty with cum painting that face.”

“You’re a damn pig.” You gritted out, your eyes lighting up with hate when you looked at him. His face shifted from cocky to full of pure rage. He was sick of your shit. He would have never let any other woman talk to him like that, but it was fun to mess with you. Until now, when he just wanted you to shut the fuck up. He grabbed your face in his hand, gripping it just enough to make you whimper.

“You talk to me like that again, I’ll fuckin’ kill you.” He spat out at you. You were watching him with wide eyes and, fuck, that fear he saw in them got him rock hard. He sniffed, the coke from earlier messing with the nerves in his nose. With that sniff came the overwhelming scent of arousal. He knew it wasn’t from him -- he had gotten used to his own scents.

“You fuckin’ whore, you like this.” He scoffed out, adjusting his grip on you. He wasn’t lying. Despite the strong, feminist persona you put on for your voters, you loved to be dominated. You wanted to be thrown around and marked up and degraded like an animal. You hadn’t ever admitted it aloud. The closest you had gotten to fulfilling your sexual desires was a small spank during a drunk hookup in college. You had managed to get yourself off during the comparatively vanilla sex, but you knew there had to be something better.

Ben was ready to give you that something better.

He smashed his lips into yours, the fingers that had once been digging into your cheeks loosening. You kissed back without really knowing why. You hated him. Maybe that’s why you were so into it.

Ben pushed you into the wall without breaking the kiss. He groped onto your breast, playing with the plush like it was his own personal stress ball. You moaned into his mouth.

The doors opened with a ding. He pulled away from you, but you had no time to catch your breath before he was grabbing onto a fistful of your hair.

“C’mon, slut.” He growled, dragging you along with him. You whined out. Your lipstick was smudged and the hair Ben didn’t have in his hand was tangled within itself. You looked a mess. Thankfully, the hall was empty.

Ben quickly unlocked and opened his hotel room before shoving you in front of him. You stumbled in, almost falling to the floor while he made sure to lock the door behind him. No one was getting in tonight.

“Get on your fuckin’ knees.”

The rush of finally getting what you needed distorted your thinking and you followed his orders. You fell to your knees, bracing yourself with your hands on your thighs. You remembered being in a similar position last Sunday at church. This was the opposite of holy, but Ben was going to have you screaming his name out like a prayer by the end of it.

You followed his movements as he walked further into the room, then past you. You missed the spark of an idea fly to him when his eyes landed on his smartphone.

“Eyes on the fuckin’ ground, sweetheart.” He demanded, waiting until you looked away to swipe up the device. He clicked around until, finally, he had the thing recording. He propped it up, right where he knew it would scan the entire room.

Satisfied with where this was going to get him, he turned on his heel, peeling off the top half of his supe suit. You dared to look up when you heard his movements and your eyes latched onto his abs.

“Did I tell you to look up?” He growled and grabbed your hair again, shoving your head to the floor. You whimpered and stayed like that, forehead kissing the floor, still on your knees. You heard a shuffling, then something soft being thrown. A sharp pang of your hair being pulled made you moan as Ben pulled you back up. You were panting out breaths when you came face to tip with his cock. It was hard and leaking precum already.

“Open that bratty mouth.”

You dropped your jaw and stuck out your tongue. Ben smirked at your willingness to get a cock in your mouth and shoved it right in. You gagged when his tip hit your throat. There was no warming up, no getting used to the length before it was being pounded into your mouth. You shut your eyes to keep you from crying at the sensation.

“Hey!” He snapped, slapping your face to get you to open your eyes. You didn’t need a mirror to know the skin was turning red. “You look at me when I’m in you.”

You immediately tried to speak, but choked around his dick.

“What was that?” Ben taunted, pulling your head back enough to let you try to speak before slamming back into your throat. He continued a few times before allowing you some air. You gasped in a breath.

“Yes daddy.” You choked out, throat raw from the constant abuse.

“Yeah, that’s right,” Ben used his thumb to collect the few tears that had fallen, then shoved the digit into your mouth. You sucked up the salty taste, taking his thumb in to the knuckle. “I’m your fuckin’ daddy.”

He pulled his thumb out and replaced it with his dick, continuing his violent thrusts. You cried out in pleasure and let him take what he wanted. Drool spilled out of your mouth, soaking your blouse. You kept your eyes on his the entire time.

He watched you with a wicked smile on his face. Pure hate and lust dripped in his eyes, making you want to look away. You didn’t dare move your eyes, even when he held your head down for a longer amount of time, his length slipping down your throat. You gagged and brought your hands up to his thighs to ground yourself. Your manicured nails dug into his leg. Thanks to his durability, you didn’t break skin.

“Givin’ your mouth a proper job.” Ben groaned when your tongue ran across a vein. You hummed in response, agreeing with him in your submissive state. He yanked your head back again, listened to you huff for air, then shoved you right back into it. He pushed you down hard and held you, running his tongue across his teeth when he felt you fighting back. You strained against him, willing your eyes to stay on his.

When he spilled into your throat, you were thankful. He had gotten what he wanted and you could look back on this moment later with your hand between your legs. He shifted your head back, bending down to get closer to you.

“Open.”

You did as he asked, showing him that, yes, you had in fact swallowed all of his cum. He smiled proudly.

“Good slut.” He patted your cheek. It had some bite behind it, not as much as the earlier slap, but just enough to make a sharp breath fall out of you. You waited for him to tell you to get out, to shove you out into the hall with spit covering your chin.

He wasn’t finished with you yet.

“Get the fuck up.” He growled and wrapped a hand around your throat, dragging you to your feet. All pride was gone from his eyes. He was angry again and ready to show you just how much power he had over you.

You were standing on shaky legs, half from the way he had pulled you up and half from how wet it was making you. You looked up at him, the height difference giving him more power. He flicked his eyes down to your soaked chest. The light fabric of your blouse had gone sheer.

Faster than you could process, he pulled it apart, buttons flying in every direction. He forced it off of your arms. He brought himself down to your level, arms wrapping around your waist to keep you from wiggling away. You felt a flash of pain that quickly melted into pleasure. He had bitten down on your shoulder. There wasn’t any blood, but you were sure the indent of his teeth would linger.

“I can tear you apart with my teeth.” He grumbled against your skin, almost threatening to do it. You were ready to speak, but he bit down again, this time on one of your breasts, pulling the cup of your bra down. Your hands shot to his biceps and he chuckled darkly. “Your blood would taste so damn sweet.”

You moaned out with another bite. It was almost directly on top of the last, only tilted slightly to the side. This was unlike anything you had felt before. The sting of the bite woke you up but the pleasure directly after made you melt. You were already grieving the end of this, not because you would miss Ben, but because no other person would ever know about your list of kinks. It was too risky to just give out.

Ben sank down your body until he was on his knees. Somehow, it didn’t give you any sense of power over him. His face was level with your stomach, level with the vital organs that lay under the skin. If he really wanted to, he could have ripped through the skin and killed you right there.

“I’ll have to settle for this pussy.” He pulled your pants down on one side, exposing your hip before he bit it. You could see the damage now. Sure enough, the skin indented in a perfect cast of his teeth, glowing an angry red. You nearly lost it at the sight, a moan escaping when your legs collapsed under you.

“Fuckin’ pain whore.” He let you fold over his shoulder while he shimmied your bottoms off, pulling your underwear along the way. He stood with you still draped over him, your heels falling from your feet with a thump. You gripped onto his ribcage out of fear of him dropping you. You liked the biting, but a concussion may be too much.

He dropped you on the bed like you were a bag of flour. You tried to catch yourself with your hands, but the force still knocked your head to the sheets. His fingers trailed up your leg, but instead of landing on your core, they continued up. You whined when he grazed against a nipple, the sensitive bud already hard. He brushed two fingers along your jawline and you held your breath. This was soft, nothing like the animal who was marking you just a few minutes ago.

Smack

Your head turned to the side with the blow. You cried out, but the same fingers that had caressed you held a tight grip on your chin, making you shut up. Ben yanked your head back to facing him.

The sneer on his face when he pushed into your mouth made a noise whistle out from your throat. His fingers dug deeper, covering themselves in your saliva. You gagged when they hit your gag reflex, though you should have been used to something in your mouth by that point.

He quickly pulled his fingers from your mouth and moved them between your legs. He spread your spit into your folds, circling your clit with his middle finger. It wasn’t really needed. You were already soaked, practically dripping, from everything that had happened beforehand. You shifted your hips in hopes of getting more friction on you, but the movement was met with a slap on your clit. You squeaked out, making him snort a laugh.

“You really are a filthy fuckin’ whore, you know that?” He smacked down again, pulling a louder noise from you. “I’ve never seen a pussy get this fuckin’ turned on with a few smacks.”

You didn’t have the brainpower to tell him it was more than a few smacks that had gotten you to this point. You clenched your hands into fists with another hit, trying your hardest to not move. You just wanted him to touch you. God, maybe he was right; you really did need a good fucking.

“Mmm, just like that.” He hummed when he stuck two fingers into you, causing you to clench down with his words. He pumped his fingers in and out of you, curling them in just the right way to get you mewling.

“Doesn’t feel this good with your own, does it? No,” he chuckled again, “you needed a real man to get in here and wreck this pussy. Not one of those sniveling, ‘feminist’ pussies your generation calls men.”

He dropped his head to wrap his lips around your clit, suckling on it. You couldn’t bother to respond to him, head thrown back in ecstasy. You were already growing close to your release, far faster than you knew possible for yourself. He laughed into you, causing another moan to fall out.

“Who fuckin’ owns this pussy?” He asked, thumb taking his lips place on your clit. You huffed out, trying to find a way to answer, but his ministrations on you clouded your mind. When you didn’t spit out a reply, he smacked your clit again.

“Fuckin’ answer.”

You sucked in a breath, swallowing down another moan.

“B-Ben.” You stuttered out.

Smack

“Try again.”

“S-,” he curled his fingers up into your g-spot, cutting you off. You groaned.

Smack

“Spit it out.”

“Soldier Boy.” You rushed out. You hadn’t forgotten about calling him ‘daddy’ before, but you had forgotten how much he had liked it. You thought this would be the right answer, his supe name to give him the sensation of real power everywhere.

Smack

“Dumb fuckin’ whore. Get it right or you’re not comin’ tonight.” He dropped back down to swirl his tongue around your clit. You pushed your fists into the mattress underneath you, arching your back.

“Daddy…?” You finally bit out, but it came as more of a question. You waited for the next hit, but what you got instead was so much better. He picked up the pace of his fingers, licking through your folds and over your clit.

“Good girl.” He muttered into your pussy. You felt yourself push over the edge, falling into your release. He smiled against you when he felt it.

“Daddy owns this pussy.” He proclaimed while pulling himself up. You were panting on the bed, body relaxed and mouth slightly open. He pushed the fingers he had used into your mouth, making you taste yourself. Your eyes fluttered shut while you took them in and his other hand found its way to cradle the back of your head.

“She tastes good, yeah? Like fuckin’ honey.”

You moaned in response. A string of spit connected his fingers and your lips when he took them back, eventually breaking and falling to rest on your chin. You were feeling euphoric now. You had gotten the best fingering of your life, though you weren’t going to ever tell him that. With the smirk on his face, he already knew it.

You shifted yourself onto your hands, shuffling your way off the bed. You were going to have to make the walk of shame to your room. Thankfully, it was just down the hall. You hoped there wouldn’t be much security, then remembered if there were, they had heard everything. You looked around the floor for anything to cover yourself.

Ben walked up behind you and you nearly melted back into him when he kissed your neck. His hand snaked around you to grab one of your breasts, thumb flicking across the nipple.

“Did I say we were fuckin’ done?” He growled into your ear before picking you up with just the one arm. You sucked in a breath before he shoved you face-first into the duvet, ass up. You turned your head to the side, facing the desk. You saw his phone, propped up suspiciously. You narrowed your eyes and tried to bring yourself up, but his hand pushed your head back down just as he entered you.

You cried out at the stretch. It felt so fucking good.

He didn’t pause to let you acclimate to him, instantly pounding into you. Your hands shot out to grip the sheets. You needed something, anything to keep you focused. Your brain was quickly shifting into shut down mode, the imaginary percentage ticking down with every thrust.

“You’re such a fuckin’ whore, you’d take every fuckin’ load right in here.” His fingers found your clit, rubbing it for a few moments before he gripped your hips with both hands. You moaned and squeezed around him.

“You’d let me knock you right up.” He chuckled. “Fill you with so much fuckin’ cum that you’d be drippin’ for days.”

You fought to keep your eyes open. If you closed them, if you took your eyes off of the cell phone practically winking at you, you would forget everything. Was he fucking filming this? If so, why?

Smack

He hit your ass, making you whine. His hand lingered, soothing the skin.

“Yeah, I know you fuckin’ like that.” He slid his hand from your ass to your back, putting pressure on the middle of your spine. Your upper body pressed into the mattress, bending your back in a way you didn’t know possible. Ben was practically on top of you now, pounding into you at a relentless pace. Your eyes fluttered shut for a second before you opened them back up.

“You wanna walk around like that? With my cum in ya? Shake hands with the president while I’m seeping out of you?”

You gasped out a breath when he dug his hips into yours. You couldn’t hold yourself up anymore. Your fists released the sheets and relaxed out. Ben noticed your lack of strength and chuckled.

He wrapped an arm around your torso and pulled you up, holding your back against his chest. His thrusts didn’t slow the entire time, making you moan. His hand wrapped around your throat, squeezing down just enough to still allow you some oxygen.

“Mmm,” he hummed, nipping at your neck, “who owns this pussy?” He asked again, whispering into your ear.

“Daddy.” You moaned, holding your eyes open halfway.

“Say it again.”

“Daddy,” you breathed out, eyelids drooping a bit more. Your eyes were slits now, but you still had them open. You still had some of your thoughts.

“Again.” He growled. He was fucking with you now. He knew you were close to being brainless, and he loved to hear it all.

“Da-,” you mumbled, but your eyes finally closed when his cock hit your g-spot.

“C’mon, baby, I know you can say it.” He taunted, slamming his hips up. He knew that you couldn’t, but God did he savor every sputter of noise from you. You were completely incoherent. You couldn’t think of anything but him driving into you.

“What, too dumb to talk?” He asked, voice full of faux sympathy. You couldn’t bring yourself to answer, the only noise coming from you being your whimpers and heavy breaths.

“Mmm, so much better like this, sweetheart. Keepin’ that bratty mouth shut.”

He felt your body shiver with your incoming orgasm. He tightened his grip on your throat, grunting at his tightening balls. A noise, part scream, part moan, tore from your throat when you came, your body going numb after you came down from it. Ben smirked as he poured into you, fucking up into you a few more times to keep his cum inside you.

He let you fall to the bed, a hand still holding your hips up while he pulled out of you. He sniffed, that nerve acting up again, and walked to his phone with a victorious expression. He had gotten exactly what he needed to destroy you, but for an extra cherry on top, he snatched up his phone and brought it over to your wrecked body.

You were laying on your side, body completely limp. He directed the camera over you, scanning every inch of your body. It was all there; the bites, your messed-up makeup, fingerprint-shaped bruises on your hips. And finally, the real star of the show, your puffy core dripping his release out.

“So fuckin’ pretty like this.” He mumbled just enough for the video to catch as he wiped up the escaping cum with two fingers before shoving it back inside. He ended the recording, throwing the phone into a nearby armchair.

Ben settled into bed next to you, back leaning against the headboard while he puffed away at a joint. He wasn’t technically supposed to smoke in the hotel room, but who was going to stop him? Surely not you, who had curled up next to his thigh and fallen into sleep, your body spent. He smirked at the sight, bringing his hand to brush hair out of your face.

“Fuckin’ whore.” He bit out, face twitching into a sneer before he slid down to sleep beside you.

----

“So fuckin’ pretty like this.”

Ben’s voice rang out from the speakers. You swore out, looking down at the tiles of the floor.

“Turn it off.” You demanded, pacing the floor. Your finger was stationed between your lips, teeth biting away at the nail.

“That was all of it, ma’am.” Your PR agent spoke out, earning her a sorrowful look. You had sat through the whole thing slack-jawed, flinching a few times. You had remembered that night -- how could you forget? -- but you hadn’t know it would be forever memorialized on video. You definitely didn’t know that it would be leaked to every fucking media outlet who would take it.

The morning after, you had woken up bleary-eyed to an empty room. Your ripped clothing hadn’t even been left behind, courtesy of Ben, you assumed. You had made a quick call to the only person you could trust -- your best friend, Lindsay, who had come within the half-hour, despite being a good hour away.

You had vowed to keep everything that had happened secret, never to be discussed. Unfortunately, you had received a call just that next day, informing you that you had a brand-new tabloid headline written just for you:

Self-proclaimed ‘feminist’ congresswoman and her offensive kink?

Now you had to deal with a mix of your angry supporters and Soldier Boy’s incel fanboys sending you hate.

It was all a mix of emotions. Some thought you had lied about everything, all the equality you had fought for, and others -- the ones who had hated you before all of this -- degraded you for existing. You caught a few defending you, who applauded you for being able to get some good sex. A few claimed to wish they were you, though you don’t know if you would wish this situation on anyone.

You were freaking out. You paced the floor and felt the eyes of everyone in the room on you.

“Get that fucking asshole on the phone now.” You snarled. No one had to guess who you were speaking about. They knew you hated Soldier Boy, plus his smug face was still up on your computer screen.

“Ahh, movie star! Watched the film yet?” His voice rang out confident from the other side. You refrained from smashing the phone down.

“You fucking dick.” You seethed.

“Oh, I wouldn’t talk like that, sweetheart. We all know what happened last time you did.” He chuckled.

“Why?” You asked, and you knew he didn’t need any context for what you were asking. You weren’t his lover, you weren’t even his friend, but this, this was taking things to another level. You didn’t know he would play so dirty.

“I told you not to fuckin’ mess with me, bitch.” He growled into the phone before the line went dead. You waited a moment before placing your own phone down, fingers gripping the desk behind you. Of course his feelings were still hurt from your little speech about his harassment the month beforehand. You flexed your jaw before an idea popped into your head.

Your attention shot to your PR agent and she flinched, but a smile was breaking out across your face.

“Get Lindsay here, right now.”

----

“Baby, I love you so much!”

Ben’s voice cried out from your phone speakers. You were giggling away at the video, though you had already watched the thing at least a hundred times.

See, what Ben and all those other assholes in his team failed to know about was the weapon you held in your grasp. It wasn’t a gun, not a knife either. It was all so simple; a shapeshifter.

Your best friend Lindsay was a B-grade supe, a fact hidden from pretty much everyone. She couldn’t hold the form for longer than an hour, but you didn’t need longer than that to get your work done.

It took no convincing to get her to shift into Ben and get into bed with you -- you were very close with each other --, where you two made your own movie; Ben sobbing when he came. Then came his own headline:

Soldier Boy and high-profile congresswoman in love??

It wasn’t as scathing as yours, but you knew it would hit his fragile ego in just the right way, maybe even knock a few of his fans out of their obsession. You had no qualms about sharing this video with the world. He had started this war; you were trying to end it.

The second before he cried the words out again, the video paused with an incoming call.

“You bitch!”

“Baby, I didn’t know it was gonna be a double-feature!” You smiled with the words, listening to his breathing quicken in anger.

“I’ll fuckin’ kill you. You hear me? You’re fuckin’ dead!”

“Ah, ah,” you tutted, throwing a condescending tone on, “that’s no way to talk to your girlfriend.”

It was really more of Vought’s idea. They thought it would be appropriate given the circumstances for you two to be a couple, at least for the rest of your campaign. They knew there was no getting rid of you, and if they didn’t agree to this, you would smear them and Soldier Boy through the mud.

“This means nothing. Watch your fuckin’ back, bitch.” Ben growled.

“Love you too, sweetheart.” You purred out the pet name before hanging up.

When he saw you again, the sex was just as good, if not better, than the first time.

[thesecondhandwoman]

𝑷𝑨𝑰𝑫 𝑰𝑵 𝑭𝑰𝑳𝑳

Sevika x f!reader

Synopsis: You are worker in the brothel who had recently gotten attached to your client, Sevika, after countless nights of more passionate sessions. Until they suddenly stopped, leaving you with an aching heart.

A/N: Honestly forgot I had this in my documents, but thought I should post it (since we all love Sevika).

The first time she came to you, she was all easy smirks and smooth charm, her prosthetic hand cool against your waist as she pulled you onto her lap. Sevika had the kind of presence that demanded attention, the kind that made others shrink in her shadow or lean in closer just for a taste of her heat. You had been the latter.

She paid well. That was all that mattered at first. A client with deep pockets and a reputation that ensured no one would bother you when you left her room, skin flushed and legs weak. It was a simple arrangement: pleasure given, coin exchanged. Nothing more.

But then she kept coming back.

And you let her.

At first, it was nothing but indulgence—nights filled with laughter and the scrape of her teeth against your throat, her hand gripping your thigh in a way that made your stomach coil with something dangerous. She made you laugh, too, in a way few did. There was something intoxicating about her presence, the roughness of her voice, the heat of her gaze when she dragged it over your body like she was memorizing you.

Then something shifted.

One night, she stayed after. No rush to pull on her coat, no tossing coins onto the nightstand with a smirk before disappearing into the Undercity’s streets. She lingered, arm draped over her stomach, watching the ceiling like it held answers she wasn’t ready to share. You didn’t ask. But when she turned her head and found you watching her, something in her expression softened.

"What?" you asked, your voice quieter than usual.

She exhaled, long and slow. "Nothing. Just... comfortable."

The next time, she brought you a drink, one she swore you’d like. You sipped it from her fingers, let the burn of it settle behind your ribs, and tried to ignore the warmth curling beneath your skin at the way she watched you. She stayed again that night, but this time, she talked. Stories about fights she had won, men she had bested, but also things she shouldn’t have shared—memories from before she was who she was now. You shouldn’t have asked, but you did. And she answered.

It got harder to pretend you weren’t waiting for her. Harder to ignore the way your heart stumbled when she walked through the door, or the way your body leaned into her touch like it was instinct rather than necessity, like it had been there since your first breath.

And then came the night she kissed you slow. Not the usual rough, greedy clash of lips and teeth, but something deliberate, something aching. Something that made your fingers twist in the fabric of her shirt, made you press closer, desperate to chase whatever this was before it slipped through your fingers.

"This ain't what you do," she muttered against your lips, almost like she was warning you. "Ain't what I do either."

You knew that. You should have let it go, let her leave before the line between transaction and intimacy blurred any further. But instead, you whispered, "Then what is this?"

Sevika didn’t answer. Instead, she pulled you back in, and for the first time, she made love to you rather than just taking. Slow hands, lingering kisses, eyes that held something more than want. It was terrifying. It was thrilling.

When it was over, she didn’t leave. She laid beside you, arm draped over her stomach, staring at the ceiling again. The silence stretched between you, thick with unsaid things. You rolled onto your side, propping yourself up on one elbow, and ran your fingers through the short strands of her hair.

"Are you staying?" you finally asked.

Her eyes flicked to yours, unreadable. "Do you want me to?"

You swallowed, throat dry. "Yeah."

She let out a soft breath, something close to a chuckle but not quite. "Then I’ll stay."

You knew this had become something dangerous. Because you had let yourself believe, even just for a moment, that she might stay for good.

As attachments grew, you slowly stopped giving much passion to your job with other clients. You knew you needed the money, but the feeling no longer sat right in your chest. It only felt right when she came every night, when her hands traced over you in a way that no longer felt like a simple transaction.

But then, the visits slowly stopped.

At first, they became shorter. A hurried touch, a quick drink shared between you before she left, murmuring something about business. Then entire nights passed without her at all. The ache in your chest started as a whisper, then grew, a quiet panic every time the door opened and it wasn’t her.

One night, you waited longer than usual, fingers curled in your lap, stomach twisted in knots. The creak of the door had you looking up, heart leaping—only for disappointment to crush it just as quickly when you saw it was just another client. You forced a smile, but it felt wrong. Everything felt wrong.

Days passed. Then a week. Then two.

She was gone.

You told yourself you shouldn’t have expected anything else. That this was inevitable. That she was never yours to keep.

But it didn’t stop the tightness in your chest, the sting behind your eyes as you sat in an empty bed, wondering if she had ever truly meant to stay at all.

As you dwelled on it further, the confusion gnawed at you until you couldn’t take it anymore. You sought out Babette, the woman who ran the brothel—the woman who had taken you in when you had nowhere else to go. She was the closest thing to family you had, and if anyone knew what was going on, it would be her.

"She’s still coming around," Babette said, her gaze softening in concern. "Just not to you, sweetheart.”

The words hit like a gut punch. You blinked, feeling the air leave your lungs. "What?"

"She’s been with the others," Babette continued gently. "Sometimes just one. Sometimes more than one. But not you."

Your stomach twisted into something sharp, something ugly. You willed yourself not to cry, not to let the tremor in your hands show. But Babette saw it anyway. Her brows knit together as she reached out, fingertips grazing your arm in silent comfort.

"Maybe it’s better this way," she murmured, her voice almost hesitant. "You know how she is, sweetheart. She doesn’t—"

"It’s fine," you interrupted, your voice too quiet, too fragile. You forced a smile, though it felt brittle. "I was just curious. That’s all."

Babette sighed, her hand fully resting over yours now, warm and grounding. "You don’t have to pretend with me. I know what she meant to you."

You swallowed, hard, but the lump in your throat didn’t go away. "She didn’t mean anything to me. She was just a client."

The lie sat bitter on your tongue. Babette didn’t call you out on it, only squeezed your hand and nodded, her expression unreadable. But her silence told you she didn’t believe it any more than you did.

Whatever you thought you had with Sevika—it had only ever been a game to her. You were nothing more than a warm body, a convenient distraction. And when things started feeling too real, she had sought out others, made sure to remind you of exactly what you were: an option, not a priority.

The belief that you could be loved for more than your body had been foolish. And now, the ache in your heart was proof of just how deeply you had let yourself hope.

Days passed, each one bleeding into the next in a haze of exhaustion and quiet heartache. You went through the motions, welcoming clients with hollow smiles and empty touches, but the passion, the illusion, was gone. It didn’t feel right. It didn’t feel like anything at all.

You tried not to linger on the thought of her, but it was impossible when every shadow in the brothel seemed to whisper her name, when every quiet moment left space for memories you wished you could carve out of your mind.

Eventually, you couldn’t take it anymore.

“Babette,” you said one night, standing in the doorway of her office. She looked up from her desk, her sharp eyes softening the moment she saw you.

“Come in, sweetheart,” she murmured, setting down her pen. You hesitated, shifting on your feet, trying to find the right words. She noticed. Of course, she noticed. “What is it?”

You swallowed, forcing down the lump in your throat. “I need a few days,” you finally said. “Just some time.”

Babette leaned back in her chair, studying you the way a mother does when she already knows the answer but waits for you to say it anyway.

“You haven’t been yourself,” she said simply. “Not since—” She didn’t say her name. She didn’t have to.

You dropped your gaze to the floor. “I just need a few days,” you repeated, quieter this time.

She sighed, then stood, walking around the desk until she was in front of you. A warm hand cupped your cheek, gentle but firm. “You take all the time you need, baby,” she said, brushing a thumb over your cheekbone. “But don’t let this break you. You hear me?”

You nodded, though you weren’t sure if you believed it.

That night, you left the brothel and retreated to the small apartment Babette had helped you get years ago. The space felt both foreign and suffocating all at once, too quiet, too empty. You sat on the edge of your bed, staring at the floor, willing yourself not to cry.

This was supposed to be temporary. A few days to pull yourself together, to forget.

Because you had to forget.

Sevika was just a client.

She was never supposed to be anything more.

And yet, the ache in your chest told you that she had been.

And that she still was.

Sevika stepped through the familiar doors of the brothel, the heavy scent of perfume and liquor thick in the air. It was the same as always—soft laughter spilling from plush lounges, the low murmur of conversation, the occasional moan slipping past velvet curtains.

But it didn’t feel the same.

She had been here almost every night, distracting herself with fleeting warmth, with lips that weren’t yours, with the burn of whiskey numbing the gnawing in her chest. She convinced herself it was working.

Until now.

Her feet carried her straight to the bar where Babette stood, drying a glass with slow, practiced movements. The moment she saw Sevika approach, something flickered behind her sharp eyes—something knowing. Something unreadable.

Sevika didn’t care to decipher it. She exhaled sharply, leaning one forearm against the counter.

“Is she available tonight?” she asked, the words coming out rougher than she meant.

Babette didn’t answer right away. Instead, she set the glass down and folded the rag over her shoulder. Only then did she meet Sevika’s gaze, her expression unreadable.

“She’s not here,” Babette finally said, voice even.

Sevika’s brow furrowed. “She got a client already?”

“No.” A pause. “She’s been taking time off.”

Something in Sevika’s chest tightened.

“Time off?” She frowned. “Since when?”

“A few days now.”

Sevika’s fingers drummed against the counter, a growing unease curling in her gut. You never took time off. You needed the money, just like everyone else here.

“Why?” she asked.

Babette just looked at her. A slow, knowing look, one that made Sevika shift under the weight of it. And then, to her surprise, Babette let out a dry, humorless chuckle and shook her head.

Sevika’s eyes narrowed. “What?”

“Funny, you askin’ that,” Babette mused, picking up her rag again, wiping at a spot on the counter that wasn’t even there.

Sevika’s jaw tightened. “Just tell me.”

Babette stopped wiping, meeting her gaze dead-on. The look in her eyes was almost pitying. Almost.

“You really don’t get it, do you?” she said, voice blunt.

Sevika stayed silent, waiting.

Babette sighed through her nose before finally giving her the truth—the one Sevika hadn’t let herself consider.

“She got too attached,” Babette said, folding her arms across her chest. “And now she’s trying to wear that off.”

The words hit Sevika like a punch to the ribs, knocking the air from her lungs.

Too attached.

Trying to wear that off.

For a moment, she just stood there, staring, unable to process what she had just heard. Because that meant—

That meant you had felt it too.

The thing she had been running from, numbing herself against, drowning in booze and other women just to avoid facing.

You had felt it too.

And instead of dealing with it like she had, you had done the opposite. You had left.

Sevika’s fingers curled into a fist against the counter. The guilt, the frustration, the regret—it all slammed into her at once, a crashing tide she wasn’t prepared for.

Babette watched her, eyes sharp, knowing.

“You asked,” she said simply.

Sevika swallowed, her throat dry. She pushed off the counter, turning toward the door without another word.

She needed air. She needed a drink. She needed—

She didn’t know what she needed.

All she knew was that she should have never asked.

Because now, she couldn’t ignore it anymore.

Now, she knew the truth.

And there was no running from it.

Sevika stood outside your apartment door, exhaling a slow breath. The hallway smelled of damp wood and old cigarette smoke, the dim lighting flickering overhead. She had stood in front of many doors before—some with intent, some without—but this one felt different. This one made her hesitate.

She had spent days, weeks, running from this, burying herself in distractions. But Babette’s words echoed in her head, stubborn and unrelenting.

“She got too attached.”

Sevika clenched her jaw and lifted her hand, knocking twice.

A long pause.

For a moment, she thought you wouldn’t answer. Maybe you were asleep. Maybe you’d left. Maybe you wouldn’t want to see her at all.

But then, the door creaked open.

And fuck—

You looked wrecked.

Your hair was undone, tangled from nights of restless tossing. The clothes you wore were loose and rumpled, as if they had been thrown on days ago and never changed. And your eyes—puffy, red-rimmed, still glossy with the remains of sleepless nights and silent tears.

Sevika had seen you in every state imaginable—laughing, breathless, flushed from pleasure. But never like this. Never broken.

Her stomach twisted.

For a second, you just stared at her, like you weren’t sure if she was real or just some cruel figment of your exhausted mind. Then, slowly, your expression hardened, and you began to push the door closed.

Sevika’s hand shot out, gripping the edge before it could fully shut. “Wait.”

Your lips pressed into a thin line. “What do you want, Sevika?” Your voice was hoarse, quiet, so unlike the teasing lilt she had grown used to hearing.

She swallowed, forcing herself to meet your gaze. “I just need to talk.”

A humorless chuckle escaped you, void of warmth. “Talk?” you repeated. “Like how you suddenly stopped coming to me? Like how you’ve been fucking around with everyone else?”

Sevika flinched at the bitterness in your voice. She had earned that.

You scoffed, shaking your head as you tried to close the door again. “No. I can’t do this, Sevika. Just—just leave.”

Panic shot through her.

Her hand pressed harder against the door, a crack of desperation in her tone. “Please.”

You froze.

Sevika never begged. Not for anything. Not for anyone.

But she wasn’t too proud to now.

“Please,” she repeated, softer this time. “Just let me explain.”

Your fingers trembled slightly where they gripped the doorframe. You didn’t move for a long moment, weighing your choices, weighing her.

Then, with a quiet exhale, you stepped aside.

Sevika took a slow breath and walked in.

She didn’t know how to fix this. She didn’t know if she even could.

But she hoped that she could at least try to.

The silence stretched between you as you both settled into the living room. You sat on the couch, curling your legs under yourself, arms wrapped tightly around your torso like you were trying to hold yourself together. Sevika hesitated before lowering herself into the chair across from you, elbows resting on her knees.

For a moment, she said nothing. She just looked at you, at the exhaustion on your face, at the way your fingers picked idly at the hem of your sleeve, at the hurt she had put there.

She exhaled heavily, rubbing a hand down her face before finally speaking.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” she muttered, voice rough, tired. “That—that was never my intent.”

You scoffed quietly, shaking your head. “Really?”

Sevika winced but didn’t argue.

She let out another breath, staring at her hands as she tried to put words to the mess in her head. “I—this isn’t something I know how to do,” she admitted. “Feelings, love—any of that shit. It’s never been something I was meant for. The things I’ve done, the life I live… it doesn’t make me the kind of person who gets this. Who deserves it.”

Your brow furrowed, but you stayed quiet.

Sevika clenched her jaw. “I was scared,” she admitted, the words almost foreign on her tongue. “Scared of what it meant. Scared of how easy it was with you. How much I wanted it to be real.”

She finally looked up, and the weight of her gaze settled heavy between you.

“I thought if I put distance between us, it’d go away. That I could just bury it, move on.” A humorless chuckle left her. “Guess I fucked that up too, huh?”

You swallowed, shifting slightly on the couch. “You could’ve just talked to me,” you murmured, voice quieter now, the sharp edges dulling.

Sevika nodded, dragging a hand down her face. “Yeah. I should’ve. But I was so caught up in running from it, I didn’t stop to think about what it was doing to you.” She let out a slow breath. “I didn’t realize—”

She stopped herself short, like saying it out loud would make it too real.

But then, she forced herself to look at you again.

“You liked me back.”

Your throat bobbed as you swallowed, looking away, suddenly finding the floor far more interesting.

“Of course I did,” you muttered, voice thick. “I still do.”

Sevika’s chest tightened.

She had spent weeks drowning herself in anything that could distract her—other women, alcohol, fights that left her knuckles bruised—anything to push away the feeling she didn’t want to face.

But now, sitting here, watching you—

She realized she had made a mistake.

A huge one.

Sevika took a deep breath, steadying herself before she stood, crossing the short distance between you. Her movements were slow, hesitant, like she thought you might flinch away. And at first, you nearly did—your body tensed, your fingers gripping the fabric of your sleeves as she approached.

But she didn’t force anything.

Instead, she reached out, calloused fingers brushing against your jaw before cupping your face with a gentleness you hadn’t expected. Her thumb traced over your cheek, hesitant, almost reverent.

“Let me fix this,” she murmured, voice barely above a whisper. “Let me make it up to you.”

Your breath hitched, eyes flickering up to hers, searching.

“Let me love you back.”

Her words cracked something open in you, something raw and aching. The weeks of confusion, of longing, of heartache—all of it threatened to overwhelm you. You could see the desperation in her eyes, the regret, the unspoken plea for another chance.

Slowly, your body relaxed.

Your hands moved on their own, fingers brushing over the cool metal of her prosthetic before gripping the front of her vest, pulling her closer.

Sevika exhaled shakily, her forehead resting against yours for a moment before she tilted your chin up, capturing your lips in a kiss that was nothing like the ones before.

It wasn’t rushed or hungry.

It was soft. Careful. Like she was afraid you might shatter beneath her touch.

You melted into it, arms looping around her neck, pulling her impossibly closer. The kiss deepened, her other hand splaying against your back, holding you as if you might slip away if she let go.

When she finally pulled back, her lips hovered just over yours, breaths mingling.

“I won’t run again,” she promised, voice rough with emotion. “Not from you.”

You searched her face, the sincerity in her expression, before nodding slightly.

“Then don’t.”

And when she kissed you again, you knew—this time, she wouldn’t.

A/N: Kinda noticed the amount of repeating phrases in this but I didn’t proofread and wrote it when I was sick so ignore that and hope you enjoyed it (and again, sorry for being gone for so long)!

[ferrarifudds]

Dinner’s Ready. ✷ Lando Norris

Pairing: Lando Norris x Bestfriend!reader

Summary: Helping your bestfriend learn how to cook because his out of date freezer meals were a bit concerning.

Word Count: 2.1k

Disclaimer/s: Fluff fluff fluffff!! :3

Vera’s Voice! i liked this one tbh :3 wrote it during my lunch break today!!! hope u enjoy!!!

“Lando, you cannot be serious.”

“I am serious,” He replied, leaning casually against the counter as you stared at the horror show that was his freezer. “What’s the big deal?”

You turned slowly, holding up a frostbitten container of… something? You squinted at the label. Lasagna? Or… meatloaf? The date scribbled on top was from months ago. Possibly before summer.

“The big deal, you idiot, is that I’m pretty sure this thing is one microwave cycle away from mutating.” You held the container of mystery meat in your hand as you felt a gag creeping forward but you choked it down.

Lando scoffed with a grin, the dimpled, infuriating kind, like this was all a joke to him. “Survival of the fittest.” He shrugged.

“This is not funny!” You groaned, dramatically shoving the container into his arms like you’d caught him red-handed.

“You’re going to give yourself food poisoning one day. Like I’m honestly surprised you haven’t died already.”

“I’m built different.” He argued.

“You’re built stupid.”

He laughed loudly, unbothered by your scolding. “Okay, Mum, what do you want me to do?”

“You’re lucky I'm even here,” You shot back, spinning around to grab your grocery bag like some kind of control freak. “You’re about to learn how to cook a proper meal for once in your life!” A pause.

“God, this is what the rich does to people.” You muttered to yourself.

Lando groaned like you’d told him he had to run ten miles uphill. “Why do I feel like this is going to end badly?”

“Because you’re terrible at following instructions,” You teased, already digging out the flour, eggs, and the rest of your supplies.

He leaned over the counter to peek. “Wait. Are we making pasta?”

“Of course.”

“Why would we do that when the box version is right there? In the cupboard, I might add.”

You turned to him, jaw practically on the floor because he even suggested such a thing. “I’m gonna pretend you didn't just say that.”

“What's wrong with it?!” He scoffed.

“Because it won’t be made with love! And you, Lando Norris, need more love in your diet.”

Lando blinked, then snorted. “That’s the corniest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“Very appropriate since you’re the corniest person I’ve ever had the displeasure of meeting.” You quickly shot back.

His jaw fell. A hand to his chest. “You wound me.”

“Good.”

And soon enough, the two of you got to work and, somewhere along the way, the line between “teaching” and “flirting” blurred, though neither of you dared to point it out.

Standing shoulder to shoulder at the counter, the space between you shrank with every quiet moment. You guided his hands as he clumsily kneaded the dough, your fingers brushing his more often than necessary.

The air grew heavy with something unspoken, the sound of flour dusting the counter and soft laughter filling the silence. When you looked up to correct him, his gaze lingered longer than it should have, and suddenly the lesson felt like an excuse to stay close, to touch without reason, and to hide the butterflies neither of you could ignore.

“Like this,” You said softly, placing your fingers over his to press into the floury mixture.

“I am doing it like that,” He complained.

“No, you’re manhandling it.”

“It’s dough!” He laughed, twisting to look at you, his face unfairly close.

“Yeah, and it’s not going to trust you if you’re aggressive.”

Lando tilted his head, the grin creeping back. “Not going to trust me?”

You bit your lip, fighting back a smile. “I don’t make the rules.”

“Clearly you do,” He teased, though he didn’t pull his hands away from yours. You suddenly became very aware of the warmth of his skin beneath your palms, the way his shoulder brushed against yours as you leaned closer.

Your gaze flickered up, and that’s when you realized he was already watching you.

“What?” You asked softly.

“Nothing.” Lando’s voice dipped, quieter than before. His eyes were still on yours, unreadable but warm—too warm.

You swallowed hard, pulling back just a little too quickly. “You’re hopeless,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady as you turned back to the dough.

Lando didn’t argue. He just smiled, like he knew something you didn’t.

Moving onto the sauce now at the stove, the pasta dough had been cut sloppily into fettuccine, now boiling on another burner. The kitchen looked like the scene of a food fight. Flour dusted the counters, your shirt, his hair—though Lando swore you’d put it there on purpose.

You were focused on stirring the sauce when he came up beside you, far too close for comfort. You could feel him there before you saw him: the shift of the air, the way the space seemed to shrink around him.

“Need something?” You asked suspiciously, refusing to look at him.

“I’m just watching,” He said, voice light but laced with something unreadable.

“You’re hovering.”

“I’m learning.”

“You’re distracting,” You muttered, stirring the sauce a little harder than necessary.

You could practically hear the smirk in his voice. “Distracting, hm?”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” You shot back, rolling your eyes.

When you finally glanced up at him, Lando was leaning against the counter with that insufferably lazy grin of his, arms folded, hair still tousled from where you’d flicked flour at him earlier. He looked at ease—too at ease.

“What?” you asked again, narrowing your eyes.

“You’ve got…” He gestured vaguely toward your face. “Something there.”

“Where?”

“Your cheek.”

You frowned, swiping at your face with the back of your hand.

Lando didn’t move, but the smile tugging at his lips grew. “Missed it.”

“Are you messing with me?”

“Would I ever?”

“Always.” You said flatly, but before you could react, he leaned in—just enough to make your heart catch. His thumb brushed across your cheek, slow and deliberate, the contact feather-light but enough to make your skin tingle where he touched.

It wasn’t fair how something so small could make your breath falter. Your brain felt like it short-circuited, stuck on the warmth of his hand and how close his face was to yours now.

“There,” he murmured softly.

You swallowed hard, eyes locked on his as his hand lingered—his thumb now gently tracing the line of your jaw.

Your heart pounded so loudly it drowned out everything else.

“Stop looking at me like that,” You said, barely above a whisper. “You've been doing it all evening.”

“Like what?” Lando’s voice dropped to match yours, quiet but steady. His eyes never left you, his gaze softer now, something unspoken lingering in the space between you.

“Like you’re about to kiss me.”

For a moment, he didn’t say anything, but you saw the shift in his expression. His smile faded—just slightly—as his thumb paused at the curve of your jaw.

“…Would that be such a bad thing?”

Your stomach flipped violently, and you felt rooted to the spot.

Every thought in your head went quiet except for the sound of your pulse thudding in your ears. Lando’s eyes searched yours, still giving you time to say no—to pull away—but you didn’t.

You couldn’t.

Slowly, achingly slowly, he leaned in.

Your breath hitched as the space between you shrank to nothing. He hesitated for just a second, close enough for you to feel the warmth of his breath against your skin. Close enough to memorize the exact color of his eyes and count the faint freckles across his nose.

And then his lips met yours.

Softly. Gently.

The kiss was tentative, like he was testing the waters, waiting for you to pull back—but you didn’t. The butterflies swarmed in your stomach, your heart a mess of frantic flutters as you leaned into him, your hands lifting to clutch the fabric of his t-shirt like you needed to hold on to something solid.

Lando’s other hand found your waist, warm and steady, anchoring you as he kissed you again—deeper this time, but still careful. His lips moved against yours with the kind of softness that made your chest ache, like he was memorizing the moment, like he didn’t want to rush it.

You could’ve stayed there forever, standing in his flour-dusted kitchen with the sauce bubbling behind you and the rest of the world falling away.

The kitchen was still for a moment—too still. Your lips tingled from the kiss, the air between you and Lando thick with something unspoken but undeniable.

You couldn’t move. You couldn’t breathe properly. Your heart was still racing in a way that had nothing to do with the pasta you were supposed to be making.

Lando’s forehead rested gently against yours, but his presence, his warmth, was too close, making everything feel so very real in a way you weren’t sure how to process.

Then, slowly, with the faintest chuckle in his voice, he pulled away—just enough to look at you, but not enough to break the contact completely.

He was standing behind you now, just a hair’s breath away, his hands slowly finding their way around your waist again, pulling you against him in a soft but secure hug. You froze as his arms wrapped around your body, his chest pressed lightly against your back.

You could feel the steady beat of his heart, feel the warmth radiating from his body into yours. His chin nestled just above your shoulder, his breath warm against the side of your neck.

“Lando…” You mumbled, the words almost slipping from you without thought, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Mmm?” He didn’t move. His voice was low, soft—a stark contrast to the playful teasing from earlier. “You okay?”

You swallowed hard, your face growing warm from the closeness. “Think I’m having trouble breathing, if I’m honest.”

His lips brushed the back of your neck, a soft, teasing kiss that sent an electric shiver down your spine. “Not surprising,” He murmured, his tone now laced with a playful cocky edge. “I do have that effect on people.”

“Oh, do you now?” You replied, trying to sound sarcastic, but your voice betrayed you—weak and breathless.

“Definitely,” He said with a chuckle, squeezing you tighter, and you could practically hear the smug smile in his voice. “I mean, I’m not just a great driver, you know. I’m also pretty good at making hearts race.”

You let out a soft groan, hands gripping the counter for balance as you felt your heart actually race. “You are so cringe, it hurts.”

He grinned against your shoulder, his voice lowering. “Am I? I was starting to think you liked me.”

You could feel the heat creeping up your neck, but you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction. “I don’t,” you muttered, though you weren’t entirely sure if you believed it.

Lando leaned in a little closer, his lips brushing lightly against the side of your neck. “Really?”

You couldn't help but laugh softly, shaking your head. “Think you and I already know the answer.”

The air between you both hung heavy with the playful tension, but just as you thought it was about to become too much, Lando pulled back slightly, his arms still around you as the sauce seemed to be finished.

“Come on, dinner’s ready.”

like, comments, & reblogs are very appreciated ^_^ !!

tags! @planetpedri @halfwayhearted @wdcbox

[dunmeshistash]

How do you feel about Milsiril? Like what do you think of her interactions between the canaries, her goals, her intentions and morality? I keep seeing people with mixed feelings about her, some saying she's just toxic or morally grey or doing bad but with good intentions or that she's just a mentally ill and literally so much more, also with the comic about Otta calling Milsiril love for her children/Kabru as just love for a pet, I always saw people take it at face value and say yes, Milsiril did love them more as pets instead of children, did she take up raising/adopting non-elf children because she felt like none of them could ridicule her like the elves did because they didn't know what an elf was supposed to be like (and also because they were children) or did she inherently view them as less? I mean the canaries and I'm pretty sure almost all of the cast in dungeon meshi have some sort perspective on different races especially because how they were taught about them, i just think it was interesting to finally see someone interpret it as Otta just misinterpreting Milsiril, I'm just really interested in her, i think shes neat, sorry for the rant!

Ooh, well to preface this, I hadn't really realized Milsiril was such a controversial character before my last post, I kinda live under a rock. She's really not a character I had given much thought besides what I wrote there before it, but I can do my best to express what I have thought since, with sources for it. I'm not sure what order to go thru so I'll just go by manga appearances and then extras, this will probably be quite a long post

This is the first time she shows up in the manga (ch55) Kabru is wondering about what future they might have if the elves take them into custody because of the ancient magic, he thinks about Milsiril as a get out of jail card, and mentions "There's a chance they would make us become permanent resident of the elven lands." with the image of Milsiril holding him. I don't think that means she would be the one to not let them leave, since this would probably be an legal issue, and the fact Milsiril lives away from other Elves. It does set up that Milsiril is quite overprotective tho, with Kabru's reaction to her teary hug. (rest is under a cut)

The next time she shows up is in ch61 right after Kabru falls down the dungeon along with Mithrun, he faints and has this flashback

She's being her overbearing self treating Kabru's small injury as if its something you need to be in bed for, hand feeding him like he's a toddler, and when he insists he wants to learn how to fight and be strong like her, she hugs him revealing to us for the first time her arm scars, she's cleary in distress too, so you wonder "what has happened to her?"

It continues in the next pages, as she tells him to stay there, where it's safe and there's cake, and describes the bad things he might encounter. Until he tells her he will go with or without her help

Honestly this is a Kabru we don't see often, this is the version of him that is usually in thought bubbles, he's blowing out in frustation over being smothered and demanding straight up what he wants, instead of trying to manipulate Milsiril, very blunt for him. Milsiril seems to flip a switch into battle mode, when she decides to train him for real.

I really thought this was funny, the visual of these cuddly toys and this Mom that was being so soft just a second ago completely flipping into something menacing is very amusing to me. She says "I'll give you an exhaustive, thorough training in how to use a sword... until you finally decide that you're ready to give up." although it sounds cruel, it seems she really trained him as best she could to make sure he would survive the dungeon. If he couldn't take the training with her there was no way he would be able to take on the dungeon, but he could, so much so that he managed to make her let him go. I can see this being seen as her trying to prevent him from going but to me it seems more like some tough love from a traumatized war veteran in this case.

The last thoughts he has is admitting his Mom was right, "Not only were there plenty of traps, monsters, and malice... but there were times when I felt so hungry and cold that I couldn't stand it."

And he concludes with "I never once thought that I wanted to go back there. That room where I could eat all the cake that I wanted..." While I can understand the interpretation that he means he would rather go thru all this than go back, perhaps cause he hated it there, I think it's rather a statement to how committed he is to defeating the dungeon, the visuals show him in rubble vs him in a soft big bed, the rough reality he fought to be able to face and the comfyness of what his life could be. Plus is mirroring exactly what Milsiril said to him. Admitting she was right about the bad things but that he won't give up for the safe easy life he had.

After that visuals of Milsiril are used while Kabru tries to sus out Mithrun but she shows up again in Mithrun's backstory.

Here she's straight up called Gloomy, which wasn't really the version of her we saw so far, gotta remember this is also how Mithrun saw her and that she was called gloomy as a way of bullying. Kabru mostly cuts off her part in the story until the end, when she's the one to find Mithrun after he was eaten by the demon

She doesn't really care much for Mithrun as we see in some extras, and she was ready to mercy kill him, but she is also the one to spare his life. This could be seen as her thinking he can still be of use, and it's how it sounds with how Kabru tells the story, but I do think this was also a merciful act, Mithrun was in rehabilitation for 20 years after being saved, by the time he was actually useful for anything Milsiril had already left the canaries and adopted Kabru.

Now for extras... About Mithrun/The Canaries, Milsiril was cleary someone that hated the people around her. This is her extra in the Adventurer's Bible

Milsiril seems to be the type that hates "popular kids" so to say, her description says she was bullied by other elves for being so introverted so I believe she holds a grudge against people like Mithrun that seem to have succeeded where she failed. But realizing he was a twisted person like her seemed to make her feel more sympathetic towards him, that's why I think she really did act with mercy when she saves Mithrun, he's now someone she sees as similar to her, she sees he also suffered like her

Her decription also mentions she left the canaries specifically because she was disgusted with how the Utaya situation was dealt with. Yet it seems like she came back to help Mithrun with his rehabilitation once she quits.

There's an interpretation to be made that she did this only to get "revenge" on the demon since she just saw the destruction of Utaya, and that she's using him. On the other hand maybe she wants to help him find a motivation to live, she's no longer a canary and she has time to actually help him now. I don't know which one is the truth but it's not obviously something self-serving if you ask me. Especially in the context that right before this scene Milsiril admits she wishes they could have talked before.

My interpretation of her relationship with the canaries and other elves is that she's someone depressed that was mistreat for her 'quirky' side, the dolls are clearly one of the ways she used to cope with anxiety/depression but it only caused her to be bullied by her own kin, she's the daughter of an important family and it's shown in other extras, including one about Mithrun, that nobles often send out the kids they don't want around to become canaries. It's an easy way to get rid of someone undesirable and I think it was the case for Milsiril. (Pattadol even assumes her parents love her less than her sisters for sending her to join the canaries).

No wonder than that now that she's finally free from the canaries she chose to seek her own happiness away from the society she felt she could never fit into, she clearly likes to take care of children too, I think it's mean to assume she only likes them because she feels superior to them when there's no indication that this is the case.

And I don't think it's a coincidence she's so overprotective of Kabru after Utaya, it's literally the tragedy that was the breaking point for her, and he's a surviving small child from that tragedy, Milsiril cares about Kabru and wanted him to have a comfortable safe life after everything he went thru...

This ended up getting way too long so I'll make second part tomorrow about the rest of the extras and Kabru, and some other things I've seen said about Milsiril, but to answer the questions...

I don't think she treats her children as pets, Otta is just salty she was called out for dating like Leo Dicaprio.

Every single dungeon meshi character can be called morally grey because they all have flaws that in our world can be considered unforgivable, but they don't live in our world. To me Milsiril is doing her best in the context she lives in.

Who even is neurotypical in dungeon meshi, Milsiril is yet another flavour of a neurodivergent traumatized character among so many.

I believe she thought of the other canaries, especially Mithrun, as the same type of people that were cruel to her, probably because some of them really were, but that she generalized it to the point she thinks of all of them as bad by default. You can only get hurt so many times before you assume everyone will hurt you.

Part 2

[wonysugar]

going down on a dork || aeri uchinaga

synopsis : giselle, a camgirl, decides to make a dork a special guest on her page.

pairing : camgirl!giselle x bicurious!femreader

genre : smut

tags : cunnilingus, lots of it i think, mentions of fingering, mentions of hetero sex? sorry LMFAO, fem reader is implied to be bicurious, kissing, making out, giselle records this shit on her old gen macbook, we love an aesthetic queen, anyways yeah lesbian sex that’s about it really

word count : 1.9k

a/n : 4am… I TOLD YALL I COULD DO IT!😭😭but yeah uhm here you gooo i kinda don’t really care about it..? like yeah i wrote this butjfrjjf that’s about it… not one of my bests! like honestly this was not worth the wait i made y’all go throughfjdmdn I’M SORRY🙏but yeah erm i’ll proofread tomorrow cause rn i’m fighting demons to not close my eyesss gootnight love y’all or whateva

btw sorry for the thing at the end LMFAOAO i got the idea and just had to, i sincerely apologize

“alright.”

the familiar girl, known online as giselle, backed away from the macbook, grin on her face, and sat back down on the bed with another person, eyeing them excitedly.

“alright.” repeated the other girl, fidgeting with her hands nervously as she sat up, before adding on, “c-can they see me?” earning laughter from the content creator before her.

“oh they’ll definitely see you, just not your face, obviously.” 

the stranger, labeled as the dork in the title of the video, seemed to be somewhat relieved by those words and allowed herself to relax more, leaning back onto the comfy bed and putting all of her weight onto the back of her arms. by getting comfortable, her neck now came into frame, her hair length became visible. 

“so,” giselle spoke softly, her eyes switching back and forth between fixing on the girl’s eyes and lips, that is, with a playful grin. “you excited?” 

that earned a nervous giggle from said girl, “honestly? not even sure what i agreed to do.” 

truth is, this was a recurring thing for the camgirl, and it would be a lie to say that she wasn’t known on campus for that exact reason, especially by a particular subgroup of girls; she, a lesbian, spends her freetime interesting other women, whether they’re bicurious or simply just bored, into having (mostly oral) sex with her, whilst also being consensually recorded in the act so she can diffuse it online, later on. that was her whole internet thing, among the more solo-esque type of content she put out every now and then.

she gave a respective codename to each girl, as to make sure they stay completely anonymous whilst also giving them a tiny description, something for the viewers to go off of. multiple examples of those immediately come to mind; cheerleader, mom, hell, one of them is even straight up called woman in stem.

now, she had great amounts of fun with all of them, obviously, and all of those one-time occurrences contributed in making her a couple of bucks due to the number of views, nothing to complain about. but in all honesty, they were all just girls at the end of the day. this girl? she couldn’t quite place her finger on what it was, but there was something about her, something that exhilarated giselle.

she knew she was gonna have a lot more fun with this dork, and it definitely showed through her giddy-like expression when she spoke to her, she was by far the most entertaining one she’s ever had to partake with, and she hadn’t even done anything to her yet.

yet.

despite the under-average quality of the macbook giselle always filmed her videos with, anybody could guess that due to the setting, the initial rendezvous was a cozy study session, with nothing but the slight yet bright daytime sunshine breaking into the room through the mostly curtain-covered windows.

the title foreshadowed it all, however, and all it took were those uncertain words to make giselle want to turn that short conversation, this whole hangout, into something else, something more. she crawled closer and pressed her lips against the dork’s. the kiss was slow and gentle, as well as being the only thing audible in the silent room at that moment. 

she pulled away from the first contact, then softly spoke out a “you’ll figure it out eventually.” loud enough that the shitty microphone picked it up, before leaning back in again, this time in a comfier position as to properly straddle the nervous girl that was under her.

to the latter’s own surprise, she returned the kiss that was placed on her lips; it was clear she would’ve wanted to do more than just sit there and take it, easier said than done. she wished to actually allow her own hands to explore giselle on a deeper, more personal level, essentially getting accustomed to the feeling of having her body in this close of a proximity to hers, but alas, that wasn’t going to happen for a while, especially since that would officially mark the day that she’s ever touched another girl in such a suggestive manner. the laptop camera recording their every move just further added onto the feeling.

giselle knew that, though, the nervousness that radiated from the girl she intertwined her lips with was so thick in the air that she could practically touch it if she tried. “come on, pretty girl, relax.” she whispered to the girl in between kisses. it obviously didn’t take long after that for the kiss to get hungrier and more heated, which eventually resulted in having her slowly slide down to the dork’s neck, now dragging her lips across and planting messy kisses there, as well as leaving gentle suckles and nibbles. “it’s just you and me.” she added, her hot breath on the girl’s skin.

if giselle were asked to describe that day in full detail, she’d spend at least ten whole minutes gushing and rambling about how fucking good that girl smelled.

the latter seemingly let go and eventually left all of the work to the more experienced woman, taking in all of what was being put on her, slowly learning to ride on the waves of intimacy. soon enough, a content giselle slowly ran her hand up the girl’s graphic tee and reached for the back of her bra, attempting to unhook it with one hand.

which, she successfully did, by the way; muscle memory always came in handy in instances like these.

much to the other girl’s disappointment, giselle pulled away from her attention-deprived neck, breathing heavily as she looked down at the already somewhat visible markings, admiring her work. “do you have a boyfriend?” 

confusion now occupied the majority of the dork’s fuzzy mind, “n-no..” she replied, still shaken up by the mere, previous things the pink haired woman had done to her already, “i wouldn’t be doing this if i did.”

giselle smiled, amused by that answer, eyes hooded with nothing but intent and lust as she stared, “then, are you talking to anybody?”

“well…” responded the other reluctantly, now thinking more carefully as to figure out what exactly to call the strange relationship she held with the boy whose face popped up in her mind. “i-i guess you could say that.” 

giselle traced circles around the nervous girl’s stomach, hand slipped under that tee, with her black and white acrylic nails, feline-like gaze still fixed on her lips. “when was the last time you saw him?”

“..yesterday.”

“yeah?” she asked for confirmation, slightly tilting her head in query before subtly leaning closer, “tell me about it.”

“well,” started the girl, looking away as her hands found and held onto anything, her fingers fidgeting some more and playing with the bedsheets she was laying on, twisting, pulling, keeping her muscles busy. she felt like she had to use her entire brain power to recall the elements of the past evening and properly form them into words. she had barely succeeded,  “h-he asked if he could come over, i said yes, obviously, and we… uhm—”

thrown off by the sudden movement of hands slowly pulling down her sweatpants, she went silent and turned back to the girl in front of her as she tried to compose her untamed thoughts. 

“you..?” 

“right.” visibly distracted by the risky contact, the girl further struggled to speak, “w-we.. uh, we had sex.”

giselle smiled knowingly, “well no shit, genius.” 

giggling as she now had completely taken off the sweatpants of the person laying before her, she continued, “i meant in detail; i wanna know everything.”

“oh.” sighed out the girl, both in relief of finally feeling giselle’s hands on her deprived skin again and in thought.

the pink haired chuckled, clearly excited.

this was exciting, both for the viewers and the two parties involved.

the video cut to a more intense scene, the somewhat awkward tension having evaporated into the air and leaving more space for hunger, and desire.

“m-mmh—“ 

with a long, slow and almost painful swipe of the tongue, giselle managed to completely obliterate the girl’s train of thought yet again, leaving her a whimpering mess. the taste of her slick coating the entire surface of her tongue.

“just from one lick? fuck..” she lowly whispered into her cunt, practically to herself, slowly panting into it like a hyperactive dog would. she carefully spread the slightly swollen, moist with slick lips as she stared. it was so pretty, all exposed, wet and vulnerable for her.

she made her feel this way.

and because of it, she couldn’t help but want to give it another taste.

“come on, keep telling.” she reminded the girl with a smirk, who happened to have covered her mouth with the back of her hand, “i’m dying to know more, you know?”

that’s when she fully leaned into said girl’s core, tongue first; leaving gentle kisses and suckles all around the very clearly aroused bundle of nerves before going to town. it was hard to see the details, but it definitely wasn’t hard to hear them and what was going. 

every wet sound, every kiss, every lick, every suckle, every noise that forced itself out of giselle’s throat; all of it was audible.

“h-he ate me out...” softly moaned the girl, now practically biting on her hand to muffle as much noise as she could. this was a college dorm, after all. “he had his lips around my clit a-and his fingers curling inside of me and— fuck.”

giselle was visibly smiling against the girl’s core before pulling away for a quick moment, “if it weren’t for my nails, i would’ve fingered you as soon as you laid on this bed, baby girl.”

giselle would never do that for any of the other girls, her videos consisted of cunnilingus and cunnilingus only.

perhaps the dork was one of a kind?

“i know..” she responded hazily, her voice hoarse and shaky, “you w-would’ve done it better than him.”

“that’s right.” that earned a smile from the pink haired, a prideful and cocky one, “you know me so well, don’t you?”

“mhm.” she said, letting out a whine as she nodded in response to feeling the camgirl’s mouth on her. her body slightly jolted with each contact, the way giselle’s tongue maneuvered around her fragile flower, experience and familiarity showing through her movements and eye contact, even through the way she held onto the dork’s thighs. 

the girl kept telling, essentially recalling every little detail about how the boy fucked her. that, despite being fucked out of her right mind and forgetting how to form words properly.

all of those events were enough to drive the girl closer to the edge after a while.

“ae—“ she stopped mid-sentence and quickly corrected herself, “—giselle i’m about to c-cum..”

the camgirl kept doing what she did best, if not more intensely than previously. she needed to see that pretty girl cum her brains out all over her mouth. she was gonna make it happen numerous times if she was presented the opportunity.

giselle needed to see how even prettier the girl looked when she came.

the orgasm itself hit her like a truck, a loud one at that. she had unconsciously grabbed a fistful of giselle’s hair and pushed her head closer to her pussy, grinding on her and riding out her excess of dopamine. 

the girl eventually let go, and the video ended after the camgirl pulled away and sat back up, staring at the girl. both of them looking at each other and giggling together, giselle’s dimples more prominent than ever. 

maybe they giggled from nervousness? maybe it was from excitement? 

one thing was for sure, though, giselle was quick to book an appointment with her nail tech as soon as she could.

[izzyy-stuff]

𝐰𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐧 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐛𝐬𝐟!𝐊𝐚𝐢

warnings: blow job, porn, inexperienced!Kai, sub!Kai ,, wc: 630

You weren’t sure how you got yourself in this situation. Frankly, if anyone told you you’d be spending your afternoon by watching porn with your best friend, you would have laughed in their face. But here you were, sitting on his bed and squeezing your thighs together as the video played on his laptop. 

It started off as a joke, you think. One second you were teasing him, saying that he probably had a hentai addiction and watches it at night with Soobin, but he quickly argued with you, accidentally admitting he doesn’t watch porn at all. 

You were in shock, to say the least. And at that point, you definitely weren’t thinking straight because without any other word, you placed his laptop in the middle of the bed and sat beside him, encouraging him to open it. 

And so now, you’re stuck with your panties soaking wet while your eyes flicker between the screen and the boner in Kai’s pants. He tries to adjust his positions so it’s that visible but every time he does, you only get a better look at what he’s packing. Your throat bobs as you swallow, averting your eyes. 

“Hav–Have you ever given a blow job before?” His words catch you off guard, making you glance at him again. Your eyes immediately fall to his crotch and you have to curse at yourself to bring your eyes back up. “I– yeah,” you admit with a slight nod of your head. He hums, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he eyes your whole body. “I see.” 

“Have you…Have you ever had someone give you a blow job?” You ask back, watching his eyes widen. He shakes his head awkwardly and you nod again. “Do you wish to?” 

Kai hesitates for a second before nodding, averting his eyes from you and focusing on the screen ahead instead. Big mistake. Watching the woman on the screen roll her eyes back as the guy thrusts into her immediately sends a shiver down his spine and dick. “Do you wish to?” You repeat your question, and when he looks at you again, something in him snaps. “Do you like giving one?” 

And just like that, that easily, you find yourself sitting between your best friend’s legs with his cock in your mouth. His groans as he thrusts into your mouth fill the whole room soon enough and you watch him squeeze the bed sheets in his hands, holding onto his dear life. 

You grin happily, taking him deeper in your throat. You gag but don’t pull back, relaxing your mouth more. You feel his fingers wrapping in your hair and glance at him quickly, feeling his dick twitch. “Don’t stop,” he moans, his breathing heavy. Ever since your lips wrapped around his cock, he’s been fighting with himself not to cum immediately as if he was some horny teenager, and every time you look at him like that, you make it a bit harder for him. 

One of your hands moves lower so you can chase your own pleasure while the other cups his balls, watching as he gasps and squirms under you. It makes you proud, honestly. Seeing him so vulnerable does something with you. 

It’s fast, too fast Kai would say, and before he can stop himself, he reaches his release, filling up your mouth. You pull back, the soft pop sending a shiver down his spine. He doesn’t take his eyes off you, his breath shaking as he watches you swallow and lick your lips. “Can we– Can I–”  “Anything,” you assure him, moving up to kiss him. “Do anything you want, Kai.” His hands grip your waist as he chases after your lips, keeping you as close as possible. “Sit on my face then. Please.”

⋆✶ izzy's tags @beomiracles @seoulzie @adel222 @inkigayocamman @flowzel @love-be0m @virgo-and-libra @hwanghyunjinismybae @liaatiny @minaateez @bamgeutsz @lovingbeomgyudayone @definitelynotherr @hyunj00 @saejinniestar @dawngyu @xylatox @thetxtdevil @biteyoubiteme @luvsicktyun ✶⋆ Want to get notified? Join taglist here!

[nik0nk1]

I’m sorry to ask but can we please have more Beerus! Reader x mark content😩🙏🏾

There was this one scene from Dragon Ball I’m not sure which one tho where beerus meets cheelai and he kinda falls for her like instantly😭 can we have some moments between reader and mark and how they stop villains together and he attempts at making food for her but it’s not the best best but Debbie helps him make it more manageable and reader knows he tried and she eats it no problem and just overall sweet yet still crackhead moments with mark and maybe how she interacts with Debbie and Oliver :3

Author's Note: honestly nddbshssjss nddjdsjddj love it, also this will be the second to the last Beerus![Name] and the last will be the reactions of Mark's variants on Beerus![Name] please suggest other more ideas in my inbox(⁠^⁠.⁠_⁠.⁠^⁠)⁠ﾉ

So without further adu, here are some Beerus![Name] moments with some of the invincible characters( mostly Mark lol Also sorry if there isn't any romance moments jdjjjddjs:( )

Beerus![Name] Moments

[Name] Just Wants Food, Mark is Her Unpaid Butler Now, Cecil is Developing Stress-Induced Baldness, Debbie is the Only One She Listens To, Earth is Off-Limits Because She Said So, Mark Keeps Getting Dragged Into Fights, Everyone is So Tired, [Name] Moved In Without Asking, She’s Claiming Planets Like Trading Cards, Cheetos Saved Earth, Canon? Don’t Know Her

♪•|~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~|•♪

[Name] Claims the Planet & Moves in With Mark (Cecil Is Bald Now)

Cecil had never been more stressed in his entire life.

"YOU CAN’T JUST—" He inhaled sharply, rubbing his temples as his headache intensified. "YOU CAN’T JUST CLAIM THE PLANET!"

[Name], sitting on Mark’s couch, kicked her feet up onto the coffee table. "I just did."

Mark, standing next to Cecil, pinched the bridge of his nose. "Why are we at my hou-"

He gets cut off by Cecil "Why would you do that?!"

[Name] shrugged. "Because it was there?"

Cecil looked like he was on the verge of a stroke. "DO YOU KNOW WHAT THAT MEANS?!?!"

[Name], sipping from a juice box, tilted her head. "Yeah. It means I live here now."

Cecil inhaled deeply. "No, it means every government on Earth is PANICKING because some unknown Viltrumite just casually declared ownership over the entire planet—"

[Name] waved him off. "Oh, that’s dumb. I don’t want their government stuff, I just wanna live here. That’s your problem."

Cecil visibly aged ten years in that moment.

Mark groaned. "Where are you even staying—?"

[Name] smirked. "Here."

Mark blinked. "…Excuse me?"

[Name] gestured around. "Your house. I’m moving in."

Silence.

Cecil stared. "I need a drink."

♪•|~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~|•♪

Meeting Debbie: The Unexpected New Roommate

Debbie had just walked in, holding groceries, when she was met with the sight of:

1. Cecil looking like he was on the verge of an aneurysm.

2. Mark rubbing his temples in pure exhaustion.

3. A complete stranger lounging on her couch with a juice box.

Debbie blinked. "What the hell is going on?"

[Name] turned, grinning. "Hi. I live here now."

Debbie froze. "…What."

Cecil groaned. "SHE CLAIMED THE PLANET, DEBBIE."

Debbie slowly turned to Mark, eyes narrowing. "Mark. Explain."

Mark sighed. "Mom, meet [Name]. She’s…technically a Viltrumite, technically super strong, technically declared Earth as hers, and—" He sighed deeply. "—she’s apparently moving in."

[Name] grinned. "Nice to meet you, Debbie."

Debbie stared at her. Then at Mark. Then at Cecil, who looked done.

Then she sighed, set the groceries down, and walked into the kitchen.

Cecil blinked. "Where are you going?"

Debbie didn’t even turn around. "To pour myself a glass of wine before I deal with this bullshit."

[Name] smirked. "I like her."

♪•|~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~|•♪

Settling In (Mark’s Personal Hell Begins)

Mark had no idea how his life spiraled into this mess, but here he was—watching [Name] casually make herself at home.

She stole his room.

She stole his bed.

She stole his snacks.

She was just…there. Constantly.

Like now, for example.

Mark walked into his own room only to find [Name] sprawled across his bed, eating his bag of Cheetos like she owned the place.

Mark sighed. "Why are you in my room?"

[Name], not looking up from her phone, casually replied, "Our room."

Mark choked. "WHAT?"

[Name] blinked at him. "I live here, Mark. This is our room now."

"YOU CAN TAKE THE GUEST ROOM!"

[Name] shrugged. "Nah, this one’s better."

Mark groaned. "I hate you."

[Name] smirked. "No, you don’t."

Mark left the room and walked straight into the kitchen, where Debbie was making coffee.

He sighed. "Mom."

Debbie, without looking up, replied, "She’s your problem now."

Mark groaned, dramatically collapsing onto the counter. "Cecil’s gonna kill me."

Debbie smirked, sipping her coffee. "Cecil’s already dead inside."

♪•|~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~|•♪

Mark & [Name]: The Most Chaotic Duo Ever And Stopping Villains Together

Mark had long since accepted that fighting alongside [Name] was not a normal experience. He was used to strategy, teamwork, and at least some level of planning.

And [Name]?

Pure, unfiltered chaos.(As usual)

Like today, for example.

A B-list villain named Overload had been terrorizing downtown, his electricity-based attacks shorting out power grids and causing city-wide blackouts. Standard superhero work.

Mark was mid-air, dodging arcs of electricity while trying to get close. "[Name], can you—"

BOOM.

The entire street shook as Overload went flying into a billboard, face-first, before tumbling down onto a car.

Mark turned, sighing.

[Name] stood there, cracking her knuckles. "What? He zapped my bag of Doritos."

Mark pinched the bridge of his nose. "You just punched him through a billboard—"

"Yeah, ‘cause he was being annoying. You were taking too long."

"He was mid-monologue!"

"Exactly. Annoying."

Overload groaned, barely conscious. [Name] walked over and nudged him with her foot.

"Hm. Not dead. Cool. What’s for lunch?"

Mark stared at her. "We’re still in the middle of a fight!"

[Name] shrugged. "I dunno, seems like we won."

Mark turned back to Overload, who weakly raised a hand. "…I surrender."

Mark sighed. "I hate that you’re always right."

[Name] grinned. "I know."

♪•|~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~|•♪

Mark Attempts Cooking (And Fails, But It's the Thought That Counts)

Mark had exactly one mission today: make [Name] a meal.

The problem?

Mark couldn’t cook for shit.

He’d tried. Really, he had. He even watched a few YouTube tutorials on how to make something decent. But by the time Debbie walked into the kitchen, it looked like a war zone.

The stove had suspicious burn marks, the counter was covered in ingredients (somehow including things that weren’t even part of the recipe), and Mark was standing there with flour in his hair, staring at a pot like it personally insulted him.

Debbie took one look and sighed. "Oh my god."

Mark groaned. "Mom, help. Please."

Debbie pinched the bridge of her nose. "Mark, what is this supposed to be?"

He gestured vaguely to the…thing. "…Pasta?"

Debbie stared. "You burned water."

Mark winced. "…Yeah."

She sighed. "Move over, I’ll fix this before she arrives."

After a lot of motherly intervention, the dish was technically saved. It wasn’t perfect, but it was edible. Which was a huge improvement.

When [Name] arrived, Mark was visibly stressed while she sat at the table, inspecting the food.

Mark coughed. "So, uh. I made this for you."

[Name] blinked. "Why?"

Mark hesitated. "…Because I thought you’d like it?"

[Name] stared at him. Then at the food. Then back at him.

Without hesitation, she grabbed a fork, scooped a bite, and ate it.

Mark watched her carefully.

She chewed. Swallowed. Paused.

Then nodded. "Not bad."

Mark exhaled, relieved. "Oh, thank god."

Debbie crossed her arms, raising a brow. "You’re way too nice. That was barely passable."

[Name] shrugged. "I’ve eaten worse. One time I had to survive on a planet that only had meat that regenerated while you chewed."

Debbie and Mark both stared.

Mark hesitated. "…I don’t wanna ask."

[Name] nodded. "You really don’t."

Debbie sighed. "Mark, if you ever cook again, I’m supervising."

Mark groaned. "Noted."

[Name] grinned. "Don’t worry, I still think it’s cute that he tried."

Mark turned red. "Shut up."

♪•|~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~|•♪

[Name] & Debbie: The Most Unexpected Friendship

Debbie never expected to befriend a Viltrumite Goddess of Destruction, yet here she was.

[Name], despite her terrifying power, was surprisingly respectful toward Debbie. And by respectful, that meant she actually listened whenever Debbie scolded Mark.

Like when Mark forgot to take out the trash.

"Mark, I told you to do it before heading out."

Mark sighed. "I was busy—"

[Name], lounging on the couch with a bag of chips, turned. "Mark, just do it. She’s right."

Mark groaned. "Not you too."

[Name] nodded. "She made me food, so she wins this argument."

Debbie smirked. "See? She gets it."

Mark threw his hands up. "Oh my god."

Another time, Debbie had been stressed from work. [Name] had noticed and, instead of saying anything, simply plopping onto the couch beside Debbie.

Debbie blinked. "What are you doing?"

[Name] shrugged. "I dunno. You looked tired, so I’m keeping you company."

Debbie stared. "…Huh."

[Name] then grabbed the remote. "Wanna watch bad reality TV? I heard humans find it entertaining."

Debbie hesitated, then sighed. "…Yeah, actually."

[Name] smirked. "Nice. Let’s watch people make terrible life choices."

And that’s how Debbie ended up watching The Bachelor with a god-tier Viltrumite who could destroy planets but instead spent the evening judging contestants like a drama-loving auntie.

Debbie decided she definitely liked her.

♪•|~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~|•♪

Cecil’s Hairline Is Gone

Cecil genuinely considered retirement after this.

[Name], somehow, had hacked the system of life itself. She claimed the planet, got a free house, free food, and a free personal punching bag (Mark).

Debbie, at some point, just accepted it.

♪•|~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~|•♪

Overall: Chaos, Friendship, and Cheetos

Mark had no idea how his life ended up like this. His team-ups with [Name] were less about strategy and more about damage control.

And his mom somehow got along better with [Name] than he did.

But at the end of the day, when [Name] casually threw an arm around him after another insane fight, stealing his fries while grinning, he figured…

Maybe this wasn’t so bad.

Even if he was never getting his snacks back.

And Mark?

He was never getting his bed back.

Author's Note: HOPE YALL LOVE THIS ONE DJJDNJDDJ

ndbshshhshsjsejjeeejebddjssjjjddj a g. g h. hh h. hh. h. h h