#I only have my brain to make those scenes real x')))

[miyakuli]

If I knew how to draw, I'd make lots of Stolitz kisses with my dreamed positions like...

Blitzo kissing Stolas after crawling on his laps

Blitz climbing onto the armrests of the couch so he can kiss Stolas with both hands on his fluffy face

Stolas stealing a kiss from Blitz just before the portal to Earth closes

Blitz climbing a few steps of a staircase to be at the right height to kiss him (Lovely Complex inspiration here xD)

An underwater kiss (cause I want to believe we'll have a parallele with Just Look My Way but this time Blitz will be there for him ;v;)

A wedding kiss on the floor (cause Stolas just jumped on him after the priest ended his speech and they both fell >v<)

[jonnywaistcoat]

What’s your opinion on the contrast between “silly” and “serious” spaces? Do you think people can have very serious interpretations about a genuine piece of media and also be goofy about it? I’m asking this particularly because I’ve seen people in the Magnus podcast fandoms fight about people “misinterpreting” characters you, Alex, and the many other authors have written. Are you okay with the blorbofication or do you really wish the media you’ve written would be “taken seriously” 100% of the time?

And follow up question, what do you think about the whole “it’s up to the reader (or in some cases, listener) to make their own conclusions and interpretations and that does not make them wrong”, versus the “it was written this way because the author intended it this way, and we should respect that” argument?

This is a question I've given a lot of thought over the years, to the point where I don't know how much I can respond without it becoming a literal essay. But I'll try.

My main principle for this stuff boils roughly down to: "The only incorrect way to respond to art is to try and police the responses of others." Art is an intensely subjective, personal thing, and I think a lot of online spaces that engage with media are somewhat antithetical to what is, to me, a key part of it, which is sitting alone with your response to a story, a character, a scene or an image and allowing yourself to explore it's effect on you. To feel your feelings and think about them in relation to the text.

Now, this is not to say that jokes and goofiness about a piece of art aren't fucking great. I love to watch The Thing and drink in the vibes or arctic desolation and paranoia, or think about the picture it paints of masculinity as a sublimely lonely thing where the most terrible threat is that of an imposed, alien intimacy. And that actually makes me laugh even more the jokey shitpost "Do you think the guys in The Thing ever explored each other's bodies? Yeah but watch out". Silly and serious don't have to be in opposition, and I often find the best jokes about a piece of media come from those who have really engaged with it.

And in terms of interpreting characters? Interpreting and responding to fictional characters is one of the key functions of stories. They're not real people, there is no objective truth to who they are or what they do or why they do it. They are artificial constructs and the life they are given is given by you, the reader/listener/viewer, etc. Your interpetation of them can't be wrong, because your interpretation of them is all that there is, they have no existence outside of that.

And obviously your interpretation will be different to other people's, because your brain, your life, your associations - the building blocks from which the voices you hear on a podcast become realised people in your mind - are entirely your own. Thus you cannot say anyone else's is wrong. You can say "That's not how it came across to me" or "I have a very different reading of that character", but that's it. I suppose if someone is fundamentally missing something (like saying "x character would never use violence" when x character strangles a man to death in chapter 4) you could say "I think that's a significant misreading of the text", but that's only to be reserved for if you have the evidence to back it up and are feeling really savage.

I think this is one of the things that saddens me a bit about some aspects of fandom culture - it has a tendency to police or standardise responses or interpretations, turning them from personal experiences to be explored into public takes to be argued over. It also has the occasional moralistic strain, and if there's one thing I wish I could carve in stone on every fan space it's that Your Responses to a Piece of Art Carry No Intrinsic Moral Weight.

As for authorial intention, that's a simpler one: who gives a shit? Even the author doesn't know their own intentions half the time. There is intentionality there, of course, but often it's a chaotic and shifting mix of theme and story and character which rarely sticks in the mind in the exact form it had during writing. If you ask me what my intention was in a scene from five years ago, I'll give you an answer, but it will be my own current interpretation of a half-remembered thing, altered and warped by my own changing relationship to the work and five years of consideration and change within myself. Or I might not remember at all and just have a guess. And I'm a best case scenario because I'm still alive. Thinking about a writers possible or stated intentions is interesting and can often lead to some compelling discussion or examination, but to try and hold it up as any sort of "truth" is, to my mind, deeply misguided.

Authorial statements can provide interesting context to a work, or suggest possible readings, but they have no actual transformative effect on the text. If an author says of a book that they always imagined y character being black, despite it never being mentioned in the text, that's interesting - what happens if we read that character as black? How does it change our responses to the that character actions and position? How does it affect the wider themes and story? It doesn't, however, actually make y character black because in the text itself their race remains nonspecific. The author lost the ability to make that change the moment it was published. It's not solely theirs anymore.

So yeah, that was a fuckin essay. In conclusion, serious and silly are both good, but serious does not mean yelling at other people about "misinterpretations", it means sitting with your personal explorations of a piece of art. All interpretations are valid unless they've legitimately missed a major part of the text (and even then they're still valid interpretations of whatever incomplete or odd version of the text exists inside that person's brain). Authorial intent is interesting to think about but ultimately unknowable, untrustworthy and certainly not a source of truth. Phew.

Oh, and blorbofication is fine, though it does to my mind sometimes pair with a certain shallowness to one's exploration of the work in question.

[solxamber]

I love your stories 🥰 they’re so cute. Can I request Malleus Tsum and his S/O’s Tsum dropping in for a visit, but these Tsum’s are from the future so they bring their little Tsum offspring to show off to their non-Tsum counterparts, and the diasomnia crew.

Visited by your Tsums! - Malleus x reader

I loved this ask, its adorable!

The first sign that today was going to be anything but normal was the soft plop you heard at your feet. You looked down to see something small, round, and suspiciously familiar.

“Malleus?” you blinked. "Why are you… tiny?"

At your feet stood a tiny, Tsum version of Malleus, his beady eyes staring back at you as if this were the most normal thing in the world. You were just about to reach down when—plop—your Tsum counterpart appeared right next to him, and before you could even process that, three more Tsums—small, round, and suspiciously dragon-like—plopped right down between them.

“Malleus!” you squawked, eyes wide. “Why do we have Tsum kids?!”

Real-Malleus (the non-Tsum version) was beside you in an instant, looking as bewildered as you felt but also… ridiculously happy? He knelt beside the tiny family, eyes practically glowing. “It appears we’ve been visited… by our future.”

“You mean our future Tsums. With… our Tsum kids,” you added, still trying to wrap your mind around what was happening. “How do Tsums even reproduce?”

Just as Malleus was about to respond, Lilia swooped in, his eyes lighting up at the sight. “Grandchildren!” he squealed, sweeping up the tiny Tsum-children in his hands like they were the most precious things in the world. “Oh, this is wonderful! Look at their little wings! And their tiny horns! I knew this day would come, but not so soon!”

“Grandchildren?!” you yelped, cheeks burning. “Lilia, wait a second—Malleus and I only just started dating!”

Lilia, completely ignoring your flustered protests, was already cradling the Tsum babies like a doting grandfather, eyes misty with joy. “Oh, they’re perfect! Look at these little faces! I always knew you two would make beautiful children!”

You felt your face heat up as you glanced at Malleus, who was watching the scene with an expression that could only be described as giddy.

“Isn’t it wonderful?” Malleus said, voice soft but tinged with awe. “Our future looks… very promising.”

You could only blink at him, your brain short-circuiting. “We’re not even close to that stage yet!”

“Perhaps not,” Malleus mused, “but the future clearly holds… delightful things.”

Before you could respond, Sebek stormed in, his face torn between utter disbelief and something bordering on reverence. “WHAT IS THIS?!” he bellowed, pointing an accusatory finger at the Tsums. “ARE THOSE… LORD MALLEUS’S CHILDREN?!”

“Well, not technically children—they’re more like… future-Tsum-offspring,” you tried to explain, but Sebek’s brain had already short-circuited.

“I… I don’t understand! How could—A HUMAN?! WITH MY LORD?!” Sebek wailed, torn between his intense loyalty to Malleus and his confusion over the fact that his beloved Lord had apparently made mini-Tsum children with a human.

Lilia, still blissfully ignoring the chaos, began bouncing the Tsum babies in his arms. “Don’t you just love it, Sebek? Grandchildren already! They’re perfect, just like I imagined!”

“GRANDCHILDREN?!” Sebek practically choked, his voice hitting a pitch that was probably illegal in most regions. “But—Lord Malleus—human—children—I—I DON’T KNOW HOW TO FEEL!”

“I think it’s lovely,” Silver commented from his spot in the corner, looking half-asleep but clearly entertained. “Though… are they going to stay for dinner?”

You stared at the Tsums, then at Malleus, and then back at the Tsums. “Is this… like a sneak peek of our future? Is that what this is?”

Tsum-you and Tsum-Malleus both bobbed their heads as if to say, yes, of course.

Malleus, positively glowing with excitement, bent down to inspect the tiny offspring, his voice full of awe. “Our children… They take after you,” he said softly, turning to you with a fond smile.

Your heart did a little flip, and you rubbed the back of your neck, trying to fight the urge to melt on the spot. “Yeah, but… we’re not even—y’know—there yet.”

“True,” Malleus mused, but his smile didn’t fade. “But I look forward to that day.”

Lilia, meanwhile, was already planning the family reunion, holding up one of the Tsum-children like Simba “Sebek, take a look! Your Lord’s legacy! His tiny, adorable legacy!”

Sebek, still torn between utter confusion and blind loyalty, managed to sputter out, “Lord Malleus’s children… even if they’re Tsums… Oh my god, it’s my Lord’s children.” His voice dropped to a whisper, and he sank to one knee in reverence.

You couldn’t help but laugh at the sight, shaking your head. “This is the weirdest day of my life.”

“And yet,” Malleus said, stepping closer to you, “I find myself… delighted.”

You glanced up at him, still flustered but starting to feel the warmth of his excitement. “Yeah, I guess it’s… kinda cute.”

Malleus leaned in, his voice a low, rumbling whisper. “One day, we’ll have our own family. I look forward to it.”

You flushed, but you couldn’t help the grin that spread across your face. “Guess we’ll just have to wait and see, huh?”

Tsum-you and Tsum-Malleus squeaked in agreement, as they bounced happily between their future offspring.

“Well,” you said, giving the tiny family one last look, “if this is what the future holds… I guess it doesn’t look so bad after all.”

Masterlist

[shuenkio]

Brought the heat back | PsH. 💥

Paring: Sunghoon x M!reader | Genre: SMUT

Synopsis: Arrange married Park Sunghoon who you had never seen since birth, finally took a turn when he realized you're the one.

Cw: explicit scenes, cursing, cumming inside, moaning, whimpering etc (read at your own risk)

Non proof read | Eng is not my 1st lang.

This is a work of fanfiction, do not throw unnecessary tantrums on this nsfw/sfw blog. ©Shuenkio

A&N: from ANON request. I'm super sure there'd be awkward parts because I'm stressed out to write a perfect smut but might fail... Nvm enjoy reading. Smut below cut ✓

Enjoy your life at peace eat, drink, work, and sleep. Cycle this routine as life goes on. Until a man who is not your dream shows up. Since his parents and yours used to be hardcore bff when they were young, they wanted to tie the bond together by arranging a forced marriage between Sunghoon Park and M/N.

Disagree to this arrangement would be useless; why on earth would your parents befriend the gangster group out of everyone else? Which makes it worse if you don't want to be married to a man you have never met.

Along with your future groom, maybe at least you expected that he would be a gentleman, is a green flag, have a nice attitude, know what's right or wrong, be mature, talkative, or so on, yet none of these can be seen in him. All Sunghoon had was a face, a body, and a dead-looking, cold face.

He was an ice prince, for real. So on the day both guardians confirmed this ceremony, you couldn't help but wonder: What did you do to deserve all of this? A future husband who couldn't fit your standards—a future husband you didn't even know and love before. What would the tension between this unfold? Just sigh and let it be; better shut up or be breathless.

Later on, after the big party, Sunghoon and M/N were freshly married. Nothing special happened, not even a spare word for each other, any eye contact, especially Park Sunghoon, what's do you expect? All you got on your night together was,

"I don't like you, m/n—don't get your hope up just because we're married; now remember your place,"

and that was the last thing you've heard him say, and it's the most hurtful thing you've ever experienced. Then why? A month had passed since we were married, and you had noticed that Sunghoon's behavior had slightly changed from before.

He has a hot temper whenever you're on the phone with anyone, having a nice conversation with the neighbors, or interacting with anyone passing by when going out, and he can't seem to calm down. Sunghoon himself didn't even know why he felt this way; he said he hated you, but why would he be jealous of somebody else other than him? However, he didn't care if you'd bring up those events when he said those words.

All he knows is that he realizes that nobody else cares about him more than you. M/N, as Sunghoon's husband. Never been a lazy househusband; whatever the tension of hatred is, you still make him eat three times a day. Doing all the shit in the house as if you're the one who brought it. When he was sick, you were never afraid to ask him what's up and how he feels. And that's when he knows that you're the one.

Either you love him or not, he's going to repay you and make you love him back. Who cares right now if you love him or not, because once you're in here, you can't leave in anyway? Coming home after a late-night date, Sunghoon's is full of all the memories and contact you had with the waitress earlier at the restaurant. You were a little too sweet toward those guys. as a result of making him unable to hold back his possessions and jealousy any more. Sunghoon needs to mark you as his own; it's now or never that you are his property only. The eyes contact; ugh, he can't seem to stop the burning sensation inside his brain.

Without further ado, once m/n settles in the bedroom, Sunghoon quickly locks the door slam with one click, and all the windows shut off from the remote. Starlet, by the sudden, you ask him nervously; a look could kill a person's presence on Sunghoon's face. It was dark; if his eyes could glow, it'd be lava red in irritated. Yet he didn't respond with anything. He ripped off his top and threw them away before buckled his belt, prepared to do something to his desire.

You know that you'd be a food to his Hungary by this midnight, all fabric on the floor. What's that mean? Well,  he's probably doing what most couples do; actually, he's going to fuck and drive you nuts. Gulping down a hard lamp in your throat, too scared to run away, too scared to say no, but there's a small part in you that screams you have to let him be; there's must be something underneath after all of this. When you open up for him, exhale what's coming for you. In one motion, both of you and his underwear are nowhere to be seen.

You always wonder, as a boy, what the dick would look like for the hot guy. It is long, small, curved, or what? Yes, Sunghoon was there to unveil that; his cock was gorgeous, he had big, huge ass balls, and the shaft was paler than his skin. His tip is faded pink, and well, the best part is that he's uncut. He doesn't like getting his skin chopped off anyway. Seeing you gone speechless by the view he was giving, only to boost his desire even better, no warning alert, your two legs are thrown across on his shoulder, while his cock is in the position of your small hole.

The atmosphere changes in an instant; the dark, empty bedroom is filled with a burning spark. Neither you nor him had any experience, but let's say Sunghoon has been trained for a while now, probably most of his alone time, to know and do what could drive you to your begging stage.

"S-sunghoon, I know it's not wrong, but... You're too huge for me."

"I don't give a damn, m/n, endure it. I'm yours, husband, isn't it? You can't say otherwise!" Distracted by his words, you were surprised at the contact of his cock buried inside you, thrusting in unexpectedly. The enormous hard cock of his indeed spread your ass into two, resulting in your cries out with pleasure.

Seeing you still adjusting to his size, Sunghoon trailed down his lip, brushing softly against yours. The kiss is mixed with love and jealousy of his; he can't stop it now to breed you and mark you as his own. He was eager to tell the world you were his only. Sinking into Sunghoon's touch, you slowly and finally adjust to his huge cock. Once he knew you were ready, his demonic power took over him as he began to push his hip to the deepest part he could ever go in one thrust. The sudden sensation drizzled you as you whimpered out loud shamelessly. Meanwhile, Sunghoon also had the same feeling; his body shuddered into pieces when he moved his own hip up and down.

All those sex toys are nothing compared to your tight entrance, which is clenching so hard and tight of his cock at the moment. He is groaning so good; it was heavenly pleasurable. It's going on for another couple of poundings until Sunghoon gets a sign he'll explode anytime soon. Clearly, you are unprepared but have to be without it. As both of his large arms encircle your waist, the wet kisses continue harder than his tongue licking over all your lips and intertwined in your mouth. Chasing that climax, which is what you're aiming for too,

"M/n, I'm fucking coming; I'm coming; I'm —" desperately, he breaks the kisses, and in one last grind, he comes undone inside of you. The massive load filled you like a cum dump, squirting out all of his orgasms and shivering with all the nerves. Enough with him cumming out; you're soon finding your dick twitches, following his orgasm as it squirted, and shooting out the hot white liquids too.

With your eyes flying up facing the ceiling, you endure the pleasure, sucking in a sharp breath. You were almost passed out with just one round, your chest heaving nonstop while Sunghoon was already recovering a while ago. M/N just feels too good to fuck, and he won't stop till he is satisfied.

"M/n! Don't test me from now on; I realized that you're nobody but someone who still puts up with me even if I'm a bad husband. I'm going to love you like no one else can, and if you ever smile at somebody else than me, I promise I'll bring the heat back." 

🗣️Reblog and like is much appreciated ♥

🗣️ please mind my English! ><

🗣️ CRD TO ALL THE OWNERS.

[meet-you-at-the-north-star]

Let Me In

Eric Northman x human! Reader

Summary: inspired by scenes from ep. 3x02 & 3x03 as well as a couple other plot points in the show (but plot is quite vague anyway)

Word count: 1517

“You’re going to invite me in” he stated, slowly, in that gentle purr his voice always sounded to my ears.

I took a step back, partially to hide the jolt that went through my body at those words. “And why would I do that?”

I wondered if he could sense the change in pace of my palpitations. They were yet to invent a way to disguise that from a vampire's super hearing.

“So I can protect you” He took a step forward. Then another, equally measured. “Or have passionate primal sex with you”.

When my hands touched the wood of the door behind me he stopped, slightly tilting his head: “Possibly both”

I gulped. I didn’t even realize that I had been backing away.

“You’re not gonna distract me by talking nasty” I said, perfectly aware that I was the one trying to distract him from the effect he was having on me.

He smirked, leaning down and invading even more of my personal space. “I already have”.

“So…are you going to invite me in?”

“That’s not how it works” I scolded him, a warning look on my face.

“Pity” He leaned back. “As soon as you let me know what the rules are, I’ll be more than happy to play along”

I stared at him for a moment, different streams of thoughts racing through my brain. “Do you really think something might happen to me tonight?”

“There’s a good chance it might. Tonight, the night after that, it doesn’t make much of a difference. I’d rather be safe than sorry” He cut short.

“Alright. I am going to invite you in…” I began, placing my hand on his chest to stop him from taking another step forward. “If you promise not to cross this threshold and to leave me alone the minute I do.”

“Well, that’s no fun”

“Eric.”

He nodded. “I promise. If that’s what you want”

“It is” I lied, but he didn’t need to know that. “You will be able to sense it if I’m in some kind of trouble, right?”

“Correct.”

“Good. Then you’re officially invited to come inside, Eric Northman…if I should need your help” I specified in an eloquent tone.

“Thank you.” His hand reached out to move a strand of hair behind my ear, with a tenderness that was as unexpected as disarming coming from someone like him.

I struggled to fight back the instinct to immediately take back everything I had just said, but I couldn't help but at least smile at him.

He smiled back at me and pulled his hand away. “Goodnight, Y/N”


A moment later he had literally vanished into thin air.

I closed the door behind me with a sigh, my heart now beating wildly. Sleeping was going to be no easy feat after all that.

I tried to prepare myself calmly, retracing all the steps of my usual nighttime routine in order to banish any kind of thoughts from my mind, both the positive and the negative.

When I finally got into bed, however, it was impossible to avoid those piercing blue eyes and features so beautiful they didn't seem real, which had so often populated my recent dreams.

Even though he had cheated by giving me his blood, a part of me couldn't help but think I would have dreamed of him regardless. After all, my daydreams were much the same way.

Eric’s eyes were my last conscious thought, then only darkness. And the sound of steps. Some kind of creature was approaching me. I could hear its menacing growl clearly now. I started running as fast as I could, but it seemed like the noise was only getting louder and more frightening. I turned a dark corner and my heart dropped realizing there was no way out of it. It was a dead-end. Then all of a sudden the floor opened up under my feet and I fell into an endless dark pit.

I let out a scream so loud I must have woken myself up. I felt cold arms holding me and instinctively fought to free myself from their grip, still screaming. Did the creature that was following me finally catch me?

“Hey” Two hands were cradling my face in an instant, gently. “it’s okay, it’s me, you’re alright”

I blinked once, twice and finally the fog clouding my brain started to dissipate as I found myself back in my room, staring into those blue eyes again. But this time I was only not seeing them with my mind. Usually impenetrable, they now betrayed concern as they studied my expression intently.

“What are you doing here?” I managed to utter in the end.

He looked a little uncomfortable, as if he was afraid I might be mad at him. “I sensed your fear”

It finally hit me: the chase, the panic I felt, it was all a dream. But he couldn’t tell the difference and thought I was actually in danger. I felt a blush quickly rising to color my cheeks and I rested my head against his chest to hide my embarrassment. “Oh my god, it was a stupid nightmare”

His arms slid up and down my back, holding me close in a protective grip. “It’s definitely quite a relief”

“I’m sorry you had to come all the way here for that”

“I’m not” he said, a half-smirk curving his lips.

“Eric” I leaned back and looked up at his face, trying to recover some sense of distance between us, but we were too close this time. And there was no invisible magical barrier I could cross.

He understood what I needed, slightly loosening the grip of his arms to allow me freedom of movement, but his eyes remained locked in mine. “Do you want me to go?”

I opened my mouth to respond but not a word came out. I ran a hand through my hair nervously, eyes darting everywhere until his hand came up to gently cup my chin, forcing me to bring my attention back to him.

My eyes dropped to his lips. They looked even redder in contrast to his unnaturally pale skin.

He didn’t move, waiting, while my brain performed somersaults to find any valid excuse why I shouldn’t let this happen.

It couldn’t.

I had about half a second to be surprised at my own impetuousness as I crashed my lips against his, then my mind went blank.

My hands quickly travelled up his neck and tangled in his hair, pulling him to me as our mouths explored each other, greedy and eager.

I felt the blood rushing through my veins and speeding up my heartbeat until it was a loud pounding in my ears. I should have been frightened by how vulnerable that probably made me in his presence, but I wasn’t.

I wasn’t afraid of him or this in the slightest, everything about it felt too right. The feeling of his arms surrounding me again in secure hold, his hands gripping my shoulders and then cradling my face, his lips hungry, relentlessly pressing on mine in a silent request for access.

My mouth parted with a sigh, allowing his tongue to slip inside, deepening the kiss. Our bodies were flush against one another and in the blink of an eye he’d pulled me onto his lap and my hands moved to his shoulders to regain my balance, lips still locked together in a restless dance.

“Hey!” I jokingly protested, finally parting for air after what felt like a two-hour apnea. “Some of us here still need to breathe”

“Mmm, you know that’s something I can easily remedy” He grinned, lips teasingly trailing up my neck and leaving nothing but small kisses behind.

“Don’t even think about that”

“What a shame” His eyes found mine again, thumb lightly stroking my cheek. “You’d make a stunning vampire”

I simply smiled at that, leaning down to capture his lips again. The kiss was slower this time, less frantic; but languid, our lips slowly taking their time to savor each other.

I felt him grin into the kiss as my hands moved in the small space between our bodies and started unbuttoning his shirt.

“Wait a minute” I abruptly stopped and shot him a worried look. “You can’t stay here”

He raised both eyebrows in disbelief. “You cannot be serious right now”

“No, I mean…what about the sun?”

He burst into a soft chuckle, shaking his head. “Good thing you people have invented blinds”

“True, guess humans aren’t all that bad, uh? ” I smirked.

“They have their moments” He conceded, looking at me.“But you do realize” he began, tone dropping suggestively, “that means I’m going to be stuck in this room for the entire day, right?”

I bit my bottom lip and shamelessly let my eyes wander over his messy hair and the half-unbottoned shirt on his chest, drinking it all in: he was one to talk about “stunning”. Then I brought my lips close to his ear: “I’m sure I can think of a way to keep you occupied”

[upon-a-starry-night]

There's this idea in my head that's causing real brain rot. So that one time, when Connor and Hank are on the rooftop, and he almost kills Hank? Can I request something like that, but with an f! reader? Maybe f! reader is on the deviant's side, and Amanda has already taken over, as a result, fight ensues. Major hurt/comfort. You choose how this ends. Thank you in advance 😭

Connor Rk800 x Gender Neutral Reader!

DBH Masterlist Main Masterlist

Word count: 2.5k

Warnings: Hurt/comfort, angst, minor violence

A/n: I always thought Connor should’ve had another chance to become deviant at this rooftop scene so this is the perfect opportunity to write it! I hope you enjoy!

-

The night air is cold as you step out onto the roof, a distant alarm blaring as it fights to be heard against the harsh wind. 

You flinch and pull your coat tighter, watching your breath fog out in front of you, snow scattering in every direction. It’s a night you’d rather be spending in the warmth of your home, curled up with a good book and good company. Unfortunately, your good company chose to go bad cop on you and now you’re out here trying to get him back.

You can already feel your fingers growing numb and you regret not bringing gloves up here with you. As if life being a detective wasn’t hard enough.

You squint at the light illuminating from the giant Android billboard and instead focus your gaze on the figure near the edge of the roof. It’s the last place you want to see him right now. On this roof- on the wrong side of history. Making a mistake you know he’ll regret.

It’s all you can do to hope you’ll be able to convince him to come back. 

You don’t know what happened. One day he’s kind and funny and even a little flirty and the next he’s cold and calculating. Had he just been pretending the whole time? Did he tell you all those sweet things just to eliminate you as a threat to his mission? 

Whatever the reason, even if he was faking it with you you weren’t faking it with him. Over the past few months, you’ve formed a genuine connection with Connor. A connection you thought was more than just partners working on the same case. 

You think back to all those late nights Connor stayed up with you as you wrote your reports, cracking jokes so the police precinct felt a little less cold and dim. The time he helped you move your furniture after your previous apartment almost got broken into. The little moments where he’d walk you to your car no matter the time, or go out of his way to pick you up a coffee.

That couldn’t have been fake, right? Nobody went through that much effort just to make sure you were friends. It was because of the way he treated you and cared for you that you found yourself in love with him in the first place.

You sucked in a sharp breath and shook that thought from your head. You’d only just realized it last night. You’d planned to tell him today but something about him was different, he didn’t look at you the same way, though his body still lingered near yours. Then you’d gotten the call this evening about where he was headed and you knew you had to stop him.

The Connor you knew wouldn’t do this. But maybe the Connor you knew wasn’t real…

“You don’t want to do this Connor” He doesn’t even flinch at your voice. He probably heard you from the second you got there and was just waiting for you to say something. 

Perhaps that was a sign? Your Connor was always polite with you.

“You shouldn’t be here, Detective.” His voice bites at you with more coldness than the night air and it makes your heart sting. It’s a tone you’ve only ever heard him use with suspects or Gavin. Even when you first met and he seemed devoid of emotion his voice was warm, friendly. What happened?

Was it something you had done? Something you said that gave away your feelings about him? He was built to read body language and pick up on subtle clues after all. Had he known even before you? Was he disgusted by you? That a human like you could fall so easily for an Android?

He shifts the position of his gun, getting a better shot on Marcus and you take another step forward, if you could just reach him then maybe-

“You won’t stop me from accomplishing my mission.” Him and his stupid mission. It’s all he ever used to talk about before he started being open with you. You thought you’d become more important than his mission. Guess not.

“What mission Connor? What? You think you shoot this guy and it’s all over? The whole rebellion falls down? Is that it?” You scoff, shoving your hands into your coat pockets to try and garner some warmth. “You shoot Marcus, someone else will just take his place. Do you really want to spend your life hunting down Androids until you’re the only one left with a soul?”

He doesn't speak but you see the way he squeezes the gun tighter, your words clearly having an internal impact. 

“Come home Connor,” You say it out of instinct, your home had become a shared space with Connor, a place he knew you’d always welcome him into. “We can find a good movie and-”

“And what? Huh? Sit there and pretend like we could be anything other than a human and a machine?” His words cut deep, slicing your heart open and revealing all the ugly fears that had been festering in your brain. The urge to throw up fills your stomach but you push the feeling down.

What Connor thought you could or couldn’t be didn’t matter right now. Even if it hurt, you had to make sure you stopped him no matter what.

He places his finger on the trigger and you know you have to resort to the last thing you wanted to do. The last thing you thought you’d ever do to Connor. You pull out your gun and aim it at his back. Emotions well up in your throat as tears threaten to break free

“Get away from the ledge” You wish he couldn’t hear how your voice trembles but you know he does. You don’t know if you have the gall to shoot him and he knows that. Still, he stands up and turns around to face you anyway.

It’s the worst sight in the world- the image of him in front of the barrel of your gun. His eyes are cold and unrecognizable, and you take note of the fact that he doesn’t drop his gun. A strong breeze roars through and you shiver, watching the wind ruffle his hair.

The same hair he used to let you brush your fingers through as you spent hours talking on your couch. His head in your lap, his eyes closed, his LED spinning blue, and a content smile on his face. You remember wanting to take a picture of how cute he looked then, just like a happy puppy. 

Oh, how things change. 

Your hand shakes as you hold the gun, maybe from the cold, maybe from the anguish, probably from both. 

“Go home detective. It’s not my mission to kill you but this is none of your business” You nearly flinch at the word ‘kill’ but manage to hold your resolve. You couldn’t show weakness in front of this version of Connor.

You scoff, “None of my business? You call you killing an innocent man none of my business?”

“It’s not a man. It’s a machine-”

“He has a family! He has people who care about him and depend on him! He has a partner and friends! Like you and I were-”

“We weren’t anything but coworkers Detective. If you thought we were more, you were mistaken.” He cuts you off with the words you feared to hear more than anything. Words he promised you he’d never say when he told you “I’ll always be here for you detective” with that stupid sunny smile of his.

Wiping a tear with your shoulder, you shake your head as you try to get a read on him.

”you don’t mean that”

“I think I do” He tilts his head, in a way you always found cute but now just find menacing. 

“I can’t let you kill that man Connor” You tighten your hold on your gun and he narrows his eyes, sizing up whether or not he thinks you’ll shoot before going to put his gun down.

Your body relaxes slightly only to be met with the full force of his gun being thrown at you. You try to block it but it crashes into your arm, causing you to hiss out in pain. In the next second Connor is coming at you, disarming your gun and throwing it across the roof. 

You try to throw a punch but he swiftly blocks it, grabbing hold of your shoulder and throwing you to the ground. The impact is harsh and the cold only makes it worse. You can already feel the nasty bruise it’s going to leave but you don’t allow yourself time to dwell on it.

Grabbing a metal grate from nearby you launch it at Connor and use it as a moment of distraction, rushing towards your gun near the ledge of the roof with Connor hot on your heels.

Connor sweeps your legs from under you as you’re inches from the gun, sending you crashing to the ground in a fall that stings your palms. At least it helped that your hands were practically numb from the cold. 

Army crawling as hurriedly as you can, you manage to swipe your gun as it teeters precariously off the edge of the roof. In a motion that sends pain through your injured shoulder, you manage to flip onto your back and point your gun at Connor just as he stands directly over you. 

For a brief second, you can’t help but think that Connor was taking it easy on you, but then he smirks like an asshole and your flame of hope dies out

“You really gonna shoot me, detective?” The cocky disbelief in his eyes is the most emotion you’ve seen from him all day and in a moment of weakness, you hesitate because you’ve seen that look when Gavin throws his fits about Androids or when the other detectives think they can do his job better than him. Cocky was an emotion Connor didn’t often show but it always made you laugh.

He takes advantage of your moment of hesitation, twisting your gun from your hands and throwing it off the roof. It lands with a solid ‘clack’ in the snow below. You try to sweep his feet but he blocks your legs with his arm, grabbing them and pushing them to the ground. He reaches down and grabs you by the collar of your sweater, angling you so that you're dangling over a fall that would definitely kill and for the first time, you truly feel scared of Connor.

You struggle in his grip to no avail, eventually giving up as you stare into his eyes for what might be the last time. You feel tired and angry and heartbroken and you don’t have the energy to fight him anymore. You let the wind rage around you as you hold out your arms, daring him to drop you.

“Moment of truth Connor…what are you gonna do?” You struggle to catch your breath as his LED violently flashes red. “You gonna kill me for trying to be a good friend?” You wait for anything to happen, for him to throw you off the roof or respond but all he does is stand there staring blankly. His LED goes crazy, flashing from red to blue to yellow and back again, like he’s having some sort of internal struggle. 

His grip on you seems to loosen a bit and you inhale sharply “C-Connor” You cry out desperately and he gasps, his grip tightening as he pulls you into his body and clings tightly to you. He takes a few steps back from the roof, forcing your body to move with his as he brings you both back to safety.

His arms wrap around you in a tight embrace and you’re unsure what to feel until you hear his pained voice

“I’m sorry.” It’s more raw than you’ve ever heard it before and soon enough tears are streaming down your face as your arms reciprocate his hold. His hands clench tighter to your jacket at the sound of your sobs. “I’m so sorry i-” His voice breaks off and his chest starts shaking and you look up to see tears streaming down his face.

You’d never seen him cry before, you didn’t even know he was capable of it- and from the looks of it neither did he.

“A-amanda- she took control and I couldn’t-” His eyes refuse to focus on you, staring at the swirling snow behind you, so you release one arm to cup his face and bring his gaze down to yours. “I tried to kill you” He looks absolutely heartbroken at what he’s done and he quickly begins to scan you for injuries. His hands coming up to cup your jaw and tilt your face this way and that.

You manage a smile through your tears as you realize you have your Connor back. Relishing the gentle way he holds your face and the concern that never leaves his eyes as he looks over you. 

“No harm no foul” You attempt a joke and Connor’s lips quirk up for the briefest moment before his gaze zeros in on your shoulder and he frowns

“I hurt you” You pursed your lips, unable to deny that fact but not wanting to ruin the moment. Reaching up, you wipe the tears from his cheeks with a gentle hand, watching as he leans into your touch.

“It’ll heal.” You tell him instead, just happy to be bruised and safe rather than dead. “What happened back there?” He looks like he wants to say more about your injury but after reading the look in your eyes he drops it.

“ I broke free. I was stuck in this frozen garden for so long. I couldn’t control my own body or words but then I heard your voice and I had to save you” You lay your head on his chest once more, feeling the steady flow of Thirium pumping through his body, the cold long forgotten from your mind.

He rests his chin upon your head, pulling you into a hug once again. 

“You’re more important to me than any mission.” His voice trembles and it takes everything in you not to start crying again “I didn’t mean any of it- those awful things I said, I didn’t mean any of them… I Love you, Detective”

Your gaze snaps to Connors, a wide smile and a light blue blush dusting his cheeks. Those three words- three words ten minutes ago you were sure you’d never heard from him. You had to make sure you hadn’t misheard him 

“What?” your heart pounded in your chest

“I said I love you, detective” This was really happening. Connor loved you back. You couldn’t help the tears that fell at the genuine emotion in his voice.

“I love you too, Connor” A delighted laugh escapes you as you pull him in for a kiss, soft cold lips meeting yours. Sure this wasn’t your ideal confession but with Connor, nothing ever went as planned, and that was perfectly fine with you “Now let’s go home, it’s freezing up here”

-

A/n: peep me watching the roof scene over and over to get this right (and also just to admire Connor) ~ Starry

[deepestnightcolor]

First of all, I love the way you write it always helps me picture in my brain the scene so thanks for that~

I'll stop being mushy now hehe

I've been having thoughts about the fem!farmer having a profile on a site to look for hookups before moving to Pelican Town and forgetting about how she used to have spicy texts with Sam just to accidentally meeting him on the streets of her new town while going on a stroll 😏 hehe

Anyways! Have an amazing day!!!

ᴀ/ɴ: IT MIGHT BE FINALS SEASON FOR ME (please, end me) BUT THAT DOESN'T STOP ME FROM KEEPING YOU ALL FED IN ADDITION TO THE OTHER GLORIOUS MEALS YOU MAY CONSUME HERE. Thank you so much for the praise, lovely, it means THE WORLD. I hope you forgive me that I gave this story a little twist, and that you enjoy nonetheless!

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: Sam (SDV) x fem!Reader

ᴡᴄ: 3789 words

ᴍᴅɴɪ ✧ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: sexting, dirty talk, praising, unprotected sex, slobber, pierced dick (I said it and I will say it again, fight me), mutual pining, you are being pounded~, cream pie.

☾ ᴍᴇᴇᴛ ᴍᴇ ᴏɴʟɪɴᴇ ☽

Sometimes you still read them. Read them when you were touching yourself beneath the sheets of your bed, read them when you wanted to get in the mood. Sometimes you still read them when you needed a little inspiration, but it was a fact that you still read them.

Normally, you deleted every conversation you had had on that website. But the ones with him had been so… entirely different. It wasn’t like you had been looking for something when you signed up on a site that promised quick, anonymous chats. Chats that could be easily discarded and forgotten. Messages that had one purpose; to still the one’s lust and then move on. To put it simply, a website that promised horny people to meet other horny people, whether it stayed digital or became real was none of their business.

You had never wanted any of this to become real – you were happy to play around with someone and be played around with when you laid in bed, all bored and horny. You were satisfied by being told how good you would be railed, happy with empty promises of being treated like a goddess. Comfortable with sharing some pictures – of course well-placed pictures, hiding details that would enable being recognized, never showing your face. At least you had been happy with building castles in the air until you had met him.

You had stumbled across him in one of the forums, a man showing off his upper body with a sense of pride radiating from his posture alone. He had accompanied the image with a simple line of text: “I am missing my muse.” Usually, you would have rolled your eyes and scrolled past in search of something spicier, dirtier. But something about him had made you click faster on that username than you would have ever liked to admit, sliding into the chat with him with a sense of despair in your chest: >If you treat me well, I could be your next muse.<

Your text had started a message of the sexiest texts you had ever received, and you didn’t even fucking know why. “SkAterdreaM” just seemed to know how to press your buttons. Guiding you to touch yourself with such a sense of precision, praising you just right. >That’s a pretty girl…Are those thighs twitching just for me? Yoba, Id love to kiss them, fuck you right until they are shaking because that’s what you deserve. Deserve to cum over and over again. Come on pretty baby, lemme hear those moans< >You make me so hard, fuck. I am drooling for you< But not only that – he added those videos. Fuck, those videos. You were pretty sure he had always put on a show for you with how he squeezed his cock, milked the pre-cum right out of himself. With how he let out these quivering, shaky gasps, moaning praise right into the microphone. “Look at what you are doing to me, princess- ah, fuck~ I wish you were here with me, gorgeous... I’d let you ride me right now, bounce on my cock… Are you touchin’ yourself for me, sweet girl? Rub that clit for me, yeah? Slooowly, I want you to go slow, just like this- you are going to be good for me, aren’t you?” Reacting perfectly to the videos you were sending him, picking up on little details not even you had been aware of. >Look at those pretty lips, all bitten-up... Feelin so good, baby? You make me wanna kiss em all better, gorgeous< Making you feel seen, heard, and appreciated. And the worst of it all? He wasn’t even there with you.

In all honesty, you had rarely ever come as hard as you had that night, and you hadn’t been able to find anything like that chat on that website since that night. And you had really tried. Texting men and women alike, talking to them, desperate to replicate what you had had with SkAterdreaM, but you always ended up disappointed, always ended up in that chat again and you always ended up disappointed when that last message smiled at you. >You were the prettiest muse I could ever possibly find.<

And damn how you wanted to find SkAterdreaM. Even now that you lived in Pelican Town did you sometimes read that chat, in hopes that the green button next to his name would indicate him being online, would allow you the chance to talk to him again, but you were always denied. It felt like Yoba had given you a gift, just to take it away from you again, leaving you in the bliss of it all and grieving the loss of it. How could life be so cruel?

You had tried to coax him back online, too. Sending pictures, all too pretty pictures. Of you in lingerie, which, you had to shamefully admit, were bought with him in the back of your mind. Of you cupping those pretty tits he had praised the whole night. Of you posing for him. But nothing. SkAterdreaM stayed offline.

But then, one day, you heard it. That voice. It immediately sent your body into a state of tingling sensations, skin burning up, heart pounding. You knew that voice. It sounded a lot less shaky and a lot less raunchy, but you knew that voice. Fuck. Were you going crazy? Had your insatiable need to meet that random-ass man again manifested into a psychosis? Maybe you should visit the town’s doctor, but what would you say? “Hey, I had a really great online sexting session, and now I hear the dude’s voice in real life, please help”? Maybe someone just had a- “Stop it, Seb, or I will kick you in the fucking nuts,” the voice laughed, sending a shudder rippling down your spine. You couldn’t believe it, yet there he was. The source of the voice was making his way toward you – well, more likely toward the saloon behind you, but fuck it – laughing with a man walking next to him.

“Oh! Hi, you must be the new farmer,” he smiled once he noticed you, and you were pretty sure you were just about to topple over, lip quivering. Could this really be? Could you have moved into the same town this online phantom was living in by accident? Was someone playing a cruel joke on you? Nevertheless, you were staring. Staring hard. What were words again, and how did you use them?

“Hi, I-“ -met you on a website for sex and fuck, I missed you. Before your tongue could release the word vomit onto the poor blond you snapped shut your jaw, trying to cover your tracks with an awkward smile. However, something in his face had shifted. A hint of recognition in those blue eyes – Yoba, he was handsome -, but they were definitely flooded with disbelief. A knock in his ribs coming from the man next to him made him stutter back into motion.

“Sam,” he choked out, mirroring that awkward smile on your lips. You gripped his offered hand, your breath hitching into your throat, making it near impossible to breathe out your own name.

“You remind me of someone,” he suddenly started out, Adam’s apple bobbing up and down, “a muse I met a while ago.” “What the fuck, Sam? Leave the poor girl alone,” the dark-haired man – Seb? – laughed, clearing his throat awkwardly. Little did he know that Sam had said just the right thing. “No worries, you remind me of a dream I had,” you shot back, making a small grin appear on his pink lips. “I will see you around then? I have made a few promises.” “Definitely.”

The way your lips crashed together could only be described as heavenly. Sam hadn’t even really taken the time to close the door behind himself before he had already wrapped you up in an embrace, fingers running through your hair before gently cradling your head. You couldn’t help yourself but moan into the gentle suckle of his lips, your body melting into him like it knew where it belonged. “Fuck, I thought I would never find you again,” he breathed, leaving your lips only for a second to gently nip at your jaw before going right back to your lips. His tongue lapped at the fat of your lower lip, greedily pushing past your teeth to lick over yours, his hands now wandering down your back. The feeling of being desired cursed through you just as much as the feeling of desiring him, your own hands wandering beneath the white shirt he was wearing to feel the smooth skin of his toned stomach. “Same,” you gasped out as he pulled away just enough to let you breathe, “I kept texting you,” you stammered, your lips kissing along his neck, savouring that breathless groan that left his already swelling lips, “but you never replied.” “I lost all access to that account,” he breathed back, his own hands now slipping beneath your shirt, small moan escaping him as they engulfed your tits, “fuck, baby. They feel just as pretty as they looked.” Yoba, he loved that giggle that left you. He had loved everything about your encounters. The way you had reacted to him, the way that you had moaned for him. The way you had begged for more, even though he just couldn’t give you what he had wanted – which had been everything. He had absolutely loved your voice cracking, the way you bit your lip as your hips bucked. The way your thighs quivered. It had been burnt into his mind, lending him a hand whenever he fucked his fist. It should have embarrassed him – an online encounter absolutely possessing his mind, but it didn’t. He had cursed heaven and hell when he had realized that he had lost access to that fucking account, and thus to you. “Believe me, I tried to get back into it,” he sighed, big hands squeezing the flesh in his hand, pierced tongue licking along your throat, just to ease the following blow of his teeth sinking into your pretty skin, “but I couldn’t for the life of me.” And really – he had tried. Even asked Sebastian if he could regain the access he had lost, even though it had set him up for a lifetime of mockery. Your answer was a mere whimper, one that made his pants way too fucking tight. He had never been this hard ever since that night, but now- now he could touch you.

“Pretty princess,” he sighed, hips rutting into you almost automatically. Yoba, feeling you after dreaming about you for so long – it made him feel like he could come right now, like he could cream his pants just because he felt your hands wander down his back, nails scratching along him ever so slightly. Yoba, he needed you.

Even though it physically pained him to pull his hands away from your nipples, he did. Just in favour of pulling down the fabric of your pants. He needed to see you. All bare, just for him. His breath hitched when he saw your panties, adorning your pubic mound in a way not even the most skilled artist could have painted. His whole body quivered as his long fingers reached out for you, brushing the calloused pad along the still clothed skin. He could hear the slight thump of your head falling against the wall behind you as you took in a shaky breath, and he wanted to cry tears of joy. He could have you now, all for himself. The realization made every ounce of patience he had promised himself to have evaporate, instead his fingers curled into the fabric, giving the thin layer of clothing a good tug. “So wet for me already, princess?” he all but cooed, holding your underwear up to your face, a wet spot beaming right at you. “Shut up,” you laughed, albeit a lot more breathless than you had been at the beginning of this, running your hands down his body. “You are not much better, SkaterDream.” Sam’s hips almost involuntarily bucked forward when your fingers brushed along the outline of his erection, eyes rolled back in his skull. Why did your fingers feel so much better than his whole fucking fist? Shit, you had ruined masturbation for him – but he just couldn’t be mad at you. No way, not when you looked up at him like this, doe eyes glazed over with lust, lips puffy from the rough, hungry kisses the two of you had shared.

Just looking at you made his balls pull tight, red tip of his dick drooling pre-cum into the black of his boxers. You were right, he wasn’t much better. His eyes drifted shut as you fisted at his poor dick now, making it cry for release from its restraints. “You are so beautiful; you know that darling? So damn beautiful,” he sighed, allowing your hands to unbuckle his belt with a clinking noise, his own working to slide your shirt above your head. Normally, he would have brought you upstairs, laid you on the bed before he would have taken his sweet times, but right now, he felt like he was starving right in front of a meal. He struggled out of his pants while he pushed up your bra, lips latching on your sweet nipple, letting the moan that left your sinful lips go through his whole system, savouring the way his dick twitched. “That’s right, baby, moan for me,” he coaxed, flicking a finger against your clit. Just lightly, to gauge your reaction. And oh, did you deliver. Your hips bucked forward almost immediately, back arched in in an attempt to get closer, to get more, more, more. Your eyes were half-lidded now, your cleavage flushed, as your lips mouthed wordless begs. How could Sam resist?

He couldn’t. His boxers pooled around his ankles just to be kicked away, pierced dick meeting his stomach with a wet smack. The moan that came from you upon revealing his girth almost sent him toppling over, legs shaking slightly as he slid it between your folds. “What is it, baby? Do you like my dick? Is it good enough for your pretty pussy?” His hips rocked back and forward now, coating his perverted shaft in your slick, eyes never leaving your face as he awaited your response. The nod you gave was small, but the look in your eyes was enough to make him drool. Tears welled in them, just about to slip down those flushed cheeks, so full of desire and despair that he felt like they were mirroring his soul. When the pierced tip caught your twitchy hole, both of you gasped out loud, making Sam’s hips work faster, bumping against your entrance over and over. He adored the wet sounds the two of you created, the way you moaned in his ear, and oh Yoba, how you bit those pretty lips again. He just had to – had to kiss them better, had to aim for your clit, had to please you.  “Sam,” you suddenly gasped, making his head snap up, taking his focus away from how pretty your pussy looked with his dick teasing it. “Yes, baby? What do you want? Tell me, princess.” “Fuck- Sam, please- fuck me,” you mewled, head again bumping into the wall. Another fat glob of pre-cum leaked out of him, and he was pretty sure he had sold his soul to the devil – how else could this be true? But you were his muse, his pretty, pretty princess, that made his balls hurt so good, so if he had actually sold his soul, he would have done it all over again.

“Do you need me, baby? Want my dick to ruin your sweet little cunt? Yeah? That’s what you want?” Another bump against your clit, another tease at your hole, and yet another glob of pre-cum coating your folds. “Yes, Sam! Fuck, PLEASE.”

That had definitely done it for him. Greedy tip lining up with your drooling hole, his eyes searched your face once more before he pushed forward. Feeling your drenched walls wrap around him, Yoba, he wanted to weep. His dick surely did. You were so beautifully wet around him, greeting him with a squelching sound as your walls stretched around him. If his brain had been working until now, it most definitely had short-circuited at right this moment and had left his mouth hanging open, spit dribbling down his tongue and on your gorgeous tits. You weren’t in much better shape – Sam was big. Girth stretching you absolutely thin, making you feel like you were going to rip in half, but fuck, did it feel good. His pierced tip bumped against your walls, and you could feel him pulse inside of you with each push forward.

“Y..you..you okay?” he whispered as he was about halfway in, nodding at the small nod you gave him. “Doin’ so good for me, baby. So good. Fuck, you feel so good. Better than I could have ever imagined, babe,” he babbled, strings of spit landing on your skin with almost every word. “Sweet, sweet girl. Taking in my dick like a perfect little slut, I am gonna move again now, ‘kay? Gonna take all of me, princess?”

You didn’t have any other option than nod – it felt like with Sam’s dick entering you, all the words you had ever learned had left you. Not that you minded, what he gave you was so much better. He fucked his dick further into you, moaning your name in the most strained, beautiful way as he bottomed out. “Good fucking- Good girl, so good for me. Don’t deserve you, darling,” he yapped, beginning with a slow and steady pace. That didn’t last long, though. Your moans were just so beautiful, you see? Sam really did try, though! Really tried to keep slow and go easy on you, but there was just no way to do so when you sounded like this, when you scratched your fingers down his back like this. When you whimpered and bucked into him like this – no, he just couldn’t.

He fucked into you like you deserved, like you had always dreamed of. Giving you quick and hard thrusts that reached deep, tip bullying into you mercilessly. Sam wasn’t able to get enough from seeing you like this, with your mouth either hanging open or closed as you bit your lip, seeing you being ruined by his dick while your tits bounced for him – it just was so delicious. “Fuck, baby. You are suckin’ me off, does it feel good? Do ya like my dick pounding that cunt? Do ya like how I make you mine? Tell me, love. Use your words.” His fingers wrapped around your chin, making you look at him as he thrusted at a rough pace, keeping eye contact as your pussy squelched for his throbbing dick. You smacked your lips together, once, then twice, trying to answer these simple questions, but it was just so hard when it felt like the ability to speak was hogtied by the feeling of your building orgasm. “Can’t hear you, sweets. But look at you, bitin’ your lip again, ya love this, dontcha?” He cooed, licking along your throat, down your cleavage, just to lap and nip at your nipple while his thumb rolled over the other. “Still, I wanna hear you, let me hear those words, c’mon. I know you can do it.” Just to underline his words, he gave you an especially hard thrust, making you gasp out his name, followed by a babbled string of “yes”’s. “That’s it, love. That’s it. Knew you could do it,” he cooed, eyes watching how greedily your cunt sucked in his dick. Yoba, he was close. So, so close. The thought of filling you up made his balls pull again, aching for that sweet, sweet release. He needed you to cum, drench him, cream his cock – he just needed you to.

His tongue lulled out of his mouth, spittle landing on your already damp skin as he pounded into you. His thumb found its spot on your clit again, flicking and rubbing it in circles that matched the pace of his thrusts. “Sa-Sahaaam!” You sobbed, voice edging in a high pitch as your stomach swirled around that approaching high. “What is it, baby? Gonna cum for me? Please, cum for me. Drench me, I want it all, make a mess of me.” His words only added to the building pressure within you, the room suddenly seeming to spin, the only thing that stayed in frame being the blond that fucked into you as if his life depended on it. Your moans no longer consisted of anything cohesive, only the high-pitched edge announced your nearing orgasm. Sam picked up on it, fell right in love with it and obeyed, keeping his pace a steady, hard fuck, thumb massaging your aching clit in a way that made your thighs twitch. You tried to tell him that you were going to cum, you certainly did, but all that left your mouth was a sob, followed by a small whine before your back arched in, legs full-on shaking as your orgasm wrecked through you.

Your hole spasmed around Sam’s already pulsing dick, gush of juices creating a creamy ring around the base of his shaft. He wanted this image of you to be forever etched into his brain, wanted it to be one of his core memories.

The look you gave him was enough to send him over the edge himself, red tip spitting ropes of cum inside of you, filling you up with each thrust. Sam just couldn’t stop, the need to fuck it deep inside of you possessing him as he pounded away, wanted to mark you as his and only his.

Only when his balls felt so incredibly empty did he slow to a stop, panting for hair like a dog in heat. Looking down at you, you weren’t in much better shape. You looked wrecked. Body flushed still, covered in his drools and lovebites he had left while he had been fucking into you. You were still shaking lightly against him, your eyes holding a fucked-out gaze that made his knees weak. For a while, the two of you just looked at one another as you panted, Sam’s hand carefully trading through your hair, the other working on holding up your tired body.

After a while, Sam dared to speak again. “So…I know we met on a website for sex, but…could I maybe take you on a date?”

[snorlaxlovesme]

alright everybody, it's time we talked about Hostage. (buckle up because this is going to be long, but it'll be worth it)

season 2 episode 8 of Link Click was one of the most confounding episodes in the entire season while airing. starting with Lu Guang's insane boat crash/martial arts smackdown rescue of Cheng Xiaoshi and ending with Cheng Xiaoshi diving into a photo to possess Lu Guang to get answers for his actions, from start to finish it was a wild ass ride where we, the fandom, AND the characters spent the whole time questioning Lu Guang and his motives

and...puzzlingly... didn't really get an answers by the end of the season

Lu Guang wasn't granted any post-climax time to explain what happened that day from his perspective, and while Cheng Xiaoshi was possessing him he didn't get any answers because he literally WAS Lu Guang, just doing whatever the hell he thought he needed to do.

the thing about Hostage that has always felt extremely off to me, is that we DO get explanations for Lu Guang's actions during the episode, but they're from people wholly unqualified to be giving them.

Captain Xiao finds Lu Guang's phone, hidden in a folded towel, and concludes that Lu Guang had left them clues. Qiao Ling, after seeing that Lu Guang had taken a photo that night, came to the conclusion that Cheng Xiaoshi must have been the one possessing Lu Guang during his deranged rescue plan at the pier, seeing as Lu Guang wasn't an adept fighter at the dojo and he was acting extremely impulsive. She even goes so far to say, later in the episode, that Cheng Xiaoshi HAS to dive into the photo, because it's already happened, and needs to follow Lu Guang's words to not change the timeline.

all of these assumptions, to me, are horseshit

I refuse to listen to ANYTHING Captain Xiao says. one, because he simply does not know these kids and should not be making assumptions about them, and two he is in fact the worst cop in the world. and Qiao Ling, bless her heart, has only found out how their powers work mere DAYS ago and doesn't understand the nuances of them at all

so I'm gonna debunk all that nonsense and explain to you what Lu Guang's REAL actions were that night, and what was up with that cryptic photo he took

now you might be thinking, Kelly, you're not even starting in the right place, because those weren't Lu Guang's actions, they were always Cheng Xiaoshi's, just in Lu Guang's body!

FALSE. on two counts! we have evidence of Lu Guang and Cheng Xiaoshi performing the act of escaping the hospital differently. Lu Guang does not use the kettle to break the window to distract the cops. we're not sure what he uses, but that kettle is still there.

Lu Guang also places his phone face down in the towel

while Cheng Xiaoshi places it faceup

so by the end of the episode we have literal, physical evidence that these two performed this timeline differently, and therefore it was not "Cheng Xiaoshi the whole time" like Qiao Ling tried to misinform us to believe. i also have another Big Brain post [x] that explains why Lu Guang being an impulsive, supposedly "good" fighter during that pier rescue scene are both in-character for him.

(and if we wanna get really nitpicky about how an injured Lu Guang could have raced across town in his condition, i simply believe that Lu Guang was smarter about it that Cheng Xiaoshi, and probably took a bus or cab. Cheng Xiaoshi, pure of heart and dumb of ass, ran because HE physically could while inhabiting Lu Guang's body. our injured catboy did not sprint across town while holding his organs in place)

so if we already have all this cold, hard evidence stating that Lu Guang really is THAT bitch and did all that shit on his own, what the hell is my problem? why can I not let this episode go?

BECAUSE I WANNA KNOW WHY LU GUANG TOOK THAT PHOTO

Captain Useless seems to think that Lu Guang took that photo as some sort of helpful clue left behind for the gang

but what, pray tell, was this photo supposed to tell us without someone with Lu Guang's powers there to interpret it? without Lu Guang to tell him what to do, Cheng Xiaoshi left to his own devices knows just as much as himself as he does possessing Lu Guang

and, the bigger question, is if this was supposed to be some sort of almighty clue for the gang, why did he not text this photo to either Qiao Ling or Cheng Xiaoshi before escaping the hospital? he took the time to text Qiao Ling the location of the boat, did he not? why not the photo too? seems like a crappy way to clue someone in, to take a photo and save it on your password protected phone that you just went out of your way to hide from plain sight

because that's the thing! after the season finale we discover that Lu Guang's password is literally a reminder of his dive, or even more specifically, a reminder of his trauma. we KNOW that he didn't share his password with Cheng Xiaoshi, he just just happened to figure it out on his own

so tell me how Lu Guang expected this trauma-password protected phone, with it's one singular picture, to get in the hands of Cheng Xiaoshi, hmm? riddle me THAT

so we've established by now that 1. Lu Guang's actions in the beginning of episode 8 were indeed his own and 2. that photo was never meant to be seen by Cheng Xiaoshi, who shouldn't have known Lu Guang's passcode

given the trauma-passcode, we have to believe that the only person ever meant to see this photo was Lu Guang. i've made ANOTHER post previously [x] stating that Lu Guang might have used his powers in a way we haven't known possible, by taking a photo and using his Blue Eyes White Dragon powers to see 12 hours into the immediate future

plausible, but not what i'm about to propose now.

because I think Lu Guang took that photo as a contingency plan

listen, the only person who had ANY credentials to theorize what Lu Guang was up to that night was his trusted partner. while Qiao Ling and Captain Xiao spouted their nonsense theories, Cheng Xiaoshi said the only smart thing that entire brainstorming session

and I think Cheng Xiaoshi was right. he wasn't wrong in assuming this photo was a Save Point of sorts, the only thing he was wrong about was who would be using it

the only other person in this show capable of diving into a photo, we find out during the finale, is Lu Guang

we also find out in the finale that powers are transferrable, and it looks like they transfer when the owner of that power dies in someone else's arms

Lu Guang took that photo that night NOT for Cheng Xiaoshi to find and use, but for LU GUANG himself to use. i believe Lu Guang firmly believed that Cheng Xiaoshi was to die that night, and he would do everything in his power to make sure he had a chance to change it again if he needed to.

that meant:

1.taking a photo on his phone as a Save Point.

2. hiding his phone in the hospital bathroom so it could not be taken from him or busted later in the night. and

3. racing to where he knew Cheng Xiaoshi would be, so he could either

4. a.) rescue him, or b.) ensure that during CXS's death, the diving power was transferred back to him so he could do the night over again.

Lu Guang took that photo as contingency plan to save Cheng Xiaoshi's life should he get killed that night.

but that plan was botched when Cheng Xiaoshi used it instead to possess Lu Guang, because each photo can only be used once.

which might also explain why Lu Guang was SO DISTRAUGHT when Cheng Xiaoshi was shot

they had deleted all their photos earlier that week to prevent the twins from possessing them remotely

that was the last photo Lu Guang had taken. the ONLY photo on his phone. if Cheng Xiaoshi died that night, there would have been no Save Point to return to

[maneskinwh0re]

“one more word.” ~ butch!wolverine x ladypool!reader this is just a wlw honda odyssey scene bc i need butch wolverine to be real. i also aimed to write them in character! give feedback babes plsssss

cw: outdated cultural references, fourth wall breaking, nsfw, blood, f!ngering, strap!sex, idk just lotta gay shit xx

wc: 4.3k...👁️👁️

"get. in the fucking. car."

"it'll get you there safe and sound!" nicepool reassures with a loving pat to the top of the grey honda odyssey. "lil betsy always does." his eyes then fall to dogpool, who is held tightly in your arms. "you're gonna have to give me my dog back, though..."

"i know," you reply matter-of-factly. "listen-" you start before mary puppins places a paw on your hand. "yes, child... if you ever want to give her up or if she needs a new home, or if something should happen to you, i'd love to be her mama."

nicepool only wheezes at your remark. "what would ever happen to me?"

"lots of stuff," you reply with a shrug, smiling innocently under your red mask.

as soon as he realizes your seriousness, his smile fades and looks to the older woman standing to his right in an ask for help. the wolverine lets out a huff as she pushes herself off the honda and moves to grab the dog from your grasp.

"n-no! we're running away- agh- the corn was too dense, girl!" you say in apologies to mary puppins and watch sadly as laura hands the you-variant over to the other, nicer-you-variant.

you begrudgingly get in the passenger seat of the shitty car, waving goodbye to dogpool. the obnoxious sound of you singing "we'll meet again" is muffled by the car windows as laura drives you both away.

time passes. maybe 15 minutes, maybe an hour. doesn't matter, reader— don't worry about it. you haven’t been paying attention to the time because you’ve been sneaking quick gazes at the wolverine in the driver’s seat to your left. the way her brown hair curls up on either sides of her head looks so cute. yet the way her large, gloved hands grip the steering wheel causes your mind to wander other places. all you know now is there’s been a lingering thought poking at your brain since you picked this wolverine up from that bar in her universe.

"okay i'm just gonna ask. what's with the suit? first thing i did when i flamed out: i took mine off."

"drop it." laura mutters.

"it's not that ugly..."

"stop talkin about my suit."

"did you make it yourself? been there!"

"quit. now." the tension in her voice is rising.

"the x-men make you wear it? those sons of fuckin bitches. they are not your friends, i'll tell ya that. friends don't let friends leave the house looking like they fight crime for the los angeles rams-"

"shut the fuck up about the suit," she snaps.

"woahwoahwoah watch your frown lines, angel baby." you back off, lifting your hands in a motion of surrender. "i'm just trying to bond a little bit-"

"yeah? well then talk about something else."

"fine!"

there's an uncomfortable silence between you two, only for a moment before you play around, making spiderman web motions with your gloved hands. you just can’t help but annoy the woman next to you, it’s too much fun. it’s like your duty as passenger princess.

"stop it," she snaps again soon enough.

"why? don't wanna get distracted seeing my fingers in this motion?" you tease, moving your middle and ring finger back and forth. laura only scoffs at the sexual innuendo. "ahh, the natural hand position of the sapphics." you turn to look out the car window and make eye contact with the reader. "is that why so many masc lesbians are obsessed with spiderman? i guess only earth-616 knows the correlation..."

and wait- if i'm supposedly you, the reader, but as ladypool-- then how am i breaking the fourth wall? gasp! a fourth wall break inside a fourth wall break... that's like- sixteen walls... am i talking to myself? or talking to myself? whatever. anyway i know why you're here, you slut. let's make conversation by pushing wolvie's buttons some more, yeah?

"if they could fix your world, what's the first thing you're gonna do when you get outta here? some rubbing alcohol shots? maybe a wiper fluid chaser?"

laura's gaze slowly turns to you. "what did you say?"

"i said when you get back, what's the first thing you're gonna do-"

"no no, before that."

"if-" you catch yourself. shit. "-they can fix your world?"

with an aggressive slam on the break, your seatbelt doesn't even have time to prevent your head from colliding with the dashboard. and as the car stops, you know there's nothing that can save you from the rage behind wolverine's tone.

"what do you mean if?" she asks through gritted teeth, body fully turned to face you.

"i mean-"

"you lied to me. you don't have a fucking clue if they could help me fix things. do you?"

"no, but i mean-" you start to defend yourself before three metal claws impale your thigh, and probably extend under you all the way through to your seat. "agh- fuck! fuck! i didn't lie!"

"you lied!"

"no! i made an educated wish!"

laura only tilts her head at your defense, eyebrows furrowing.

"because i need you," you continue as you unfold the photo that was in your pocket and hold it up for her to see. "this is why. right here. cause if we don't do something, they die. i don't know anything about saving worlds, and why would i even care? cause my entire world is right here in this picture. it's only nine people, and i have no idea how to save it alone. i know how to fuck people up for money but you- YOU know how to save them... at least the other wolverine did-" at that last comment, laura twists her claws in your thigh, striking enough pain for more curses to escape your mouth. "f-fuck! ah- i guess i'm stuck with the worst one-"

"did you just say you made an educated... fucking wish?"

"they call me the merc with the mouth. they don't call me truthful timmy the blowjob queen of sass catoo-"

the three metal blades are quickly removed from your thigh only to be brought up next to your face. laura's shaky breath exercises seem to be the only thing keeping her from slicing you apart.

"one more word... please, give me one." her guttural voice is a low warning. you wait a moment as if thinking to a random word generator in your brain.

"~gubernatorial~" you say simply before cowaring behind flailing arms when laura prepares to stab you in the face, only fake you out. her breaths are deeper, more steady as if she's trying to calm herself.

"you know what? you're a fucking joke... no wonder the avengers didn't take you, or the x-men or fuckin anyone. i mean you are a ridiculous, immature, half-wit moron. i have never met a sadder, more attention-starved, jabbering, little prick in my entire life. and that says a lot 'cause i've been alive for over two hundred fucking years." the volume in her voice begins to rise with each word, striking your emotions further and further as you sit there speechless, yet her anger keeps rising. "and i'll tell ya- that villain chick was right about one thing: you will NEVER save the world. you couldn't even save a relationship with a goddamn stripper! and motherfucker i wish i could say you'd die alone, but it's one of GOD'S best jokes that you can't die! except that's all on all of US!"

she hits nerve after nerve. the pain in your chest hurts too fucking bad. you are not only speechless, you never want to speak again. you have millions of words to say yet none at all.

how fucking dare she bring up vanessa like that? who does laura think she is? no fucking hero, that's for goddamn sure.

"you got nothing to say, mouth?" she asks, almost out of breath from yelling accusations.

all you can manage to say is one sentence. and she doesn’t even fucking deserve the warning too. "i'm gonna fight you now."

wolverine only snorts, a pitiful laugh towards your remark. "oh, are you?"

you take note how a quick punch to her nose shuts her right up, and watch in satisfaction how blood trickles out her nostril down to her upper lip. your small victory is cut short by her fist colliding to the same spot on your own nose. she pushes you to the window and grabs the back of your mask, then slams your face down onto the center head unit multiple times. different radio stations flick back and forth as you make contact with the buttons and nozzles, eventually landing on a song from the original 'grease' soundtrack.

♡ last gore x nsfw warning !! :3 ♡

you lift your hand to grab one of your swords but another punch to the cheek causes your vision to cloud. by the time you come to your senses, laura has buckled your seatbelt and is digging her left claw into your stomach, twisting her hand slowly.

“not talkin’ now, are ya?” she growls before withdrawing her claws and moving to stab you again. pulling the lever on the side of your car seat, you fall backwards to quickly dodge her blow. you kick your foot against her shoulder to keep her back, and then tightly wrap your legs around her head. another three blades enter your side in a sudden motion, causing you to release your chokehold.

“agh! you dirty bitch!” you shout before kicking her out the front windshield of the honda. you laugh and point as she rolls and tumbles through the leaves and dirt. as soon as she gets up, you unsheathe your swords while she sprints back to you. she’s a fucking animal—ramming herself into the front of the car, causing the airbag to go off on your stomach and send you flying back into the reclined seat.

laura jumps through the broken windshield and lands claws first on top of your already bloodied body. slash after slash, you both further each others’ injuries until you flip laura over and pin her down to the seat. there is surprise in her eyes with a hint of something else that you can’t quite pinpoint. trying to catch your breath, she only looks up at you with a ratted smile, as if amused to see you attempting to kill her. blood stains her face and fanged teeth, and her short hair is tangled and damp with sweat. fuck—it’s a sight. with your elbow against her chest, you’re still close enough to smell her alcohol-tainted breath.

“need a mint, you preening slut?” you ask before you are flying through the sunroof of the honda and falling to the ground outside the car. after kicking yourself up, your little wolvie gestures for you to come back with a simple hand wave behind the window. who are you to keep her waiting? throwing the swords over your shoulders, you take out your baby knives before running back to the car and jumping through the window.

broken glass and blood is everywhere, but neither of you care. you’re both having too much fun trying to murder the other as you take turns regenerating. it’s a pointless waste of time and energy. a total meaningless circle of fighting and healing.

you pin laura through the broken windshield and onto the front hood of the car, stabbing her shoulder and arms repeatedly with a knife. the sleeves of her suit eventually fall apart, fabric scattering and leaving her muscular arms to your gaze. so clearly you’re distracted. she grabs your wrist behind her and heaves your arm over her head to hold you in her place for a moment to catch her breath.

she then drags you by the belt from across the car and holds you down with her body in the back seat. her claws sink through the red fabric and into your sides. again. and again. the repetitive motions of the sharp metal soon causes a big tear in the fabric of your suit, exposing the skin under your breast. it seems as if neither of you notice at first, continuously fighting until another stretch from her pinning your arms above your head causes a terrible ripping sound. you both stop and look down, unsure on who has the decency to yield the fight first.

wolverine pauses for a moment, hovering over your bare tit before suddenly attacking your nipple with her mouth. there is nothing gentle about it, and you can’t tell if her actions are still a way of fighting with the harsh ways her sharp teeth nip and bite.

you lay there for a moment in shock, chest heaving up and down in short spurts as you try to breathe. your hands drop the knives to the car floor behind you, yet your wrists are still trapped in the wolverine’s grip. before you can think to stop it, a breathy whimper escapes your lips. the sound pricks laura to come to her senses and looks up at you with a flushed expression.

fucking hell. if you weren’t okay with what’s happening, you would’ve said something by now. even laura knows that—considering how fucking chatty you are.

“were ya hungry, peanut? needed a mid-fight snack?” you tease, tilting your head with a raised brow.

“i didn’t say i was finished.” she smirks before lowering her head to your chest again. her tongue circles and flicks at your nipple, treating it oh so lovingly before biting and pulling at it so fucking roughly. you chew on your bottom lip to muffle your own moans—all because you’re too stubborn to let her know how fucking good it feels.

she’s holding herself back, yet you kick her chest and propel her weight backwards onto the head unit, while the momentum pushes you the opposite direction into the third row of seats. as she falls, the grease song playing from the radio is muted, leaving you two to a short-lived silence.

"i was wrong—the honda odyssey fucks hard,” you say, rolling your head back and cracking your neck in the process. looking back to laura, you usher her to you with a teasing two-finger motion. “too bad you don't, needle dick.”

“oh, we’re just getting started, bub,” she replies, eyeing your manspread position before lunging to you again.

calling her an animal is to say the fucking least. but you’re no better. she rips and tears your suit, not giving a single fuck in the world that you may need to keep it in tact for later in the plot line. she pulls the tough fabric apart, exposing your tits to her lingering eyes. it’s like a switch is flipped. all of a sudden she can’t get enough, wanting- needing to see more of you. for a moment, you just let her. your belt is removed followed by your pants all while you just lay back and watch her do the work. soon you’re only in your black underwear, smirking under your red and black mask at how fucking needy she looks. her callused hands grip your waist, easily pulling you up to her as her mouth finds your other nipple.

“you’re not you when your hungry. and clearly, you always seem incredibly hungry, wolvie.”

“shuh du phvck uh.” is what you make of her boob-drunk gibberish and assume she’s simply cussing you out.

“huh? couldn’t quite catch that. y’ know you really shouldn’t talk with your mouth full-”

a large, gloved hand muffles your masked mouth before her lips release your tit with a pop.

“off,” she says. you furrow your eyebrows in confusion and she must be able to tell by your silence, causing her to elaborate quickly while her free hand lingers on the black lace of your underwear. “i don’t want a damn word out of your filthy mouth until you’ve taken these off. if you want me to fuck you, you’re gonna have to let me.”

fucking hell. panties are soaking wet right now.

you slowly nod your head in her restrictive grip, and lift your hips to remove the damp fabric from your body. damp from blood or sweat or something else… who fucking knows and who fucking cares. you toss them to the side and immediately pull laura closer to you. her harsh kisses mark your neck and collarbone before she wets her middle finger with her tongue and starts to rub quick circles on your clit. you almost push her away, her starting speed too overstimulating at first, but you soon get used to it, bucking your hips in a physical ask to move faster.

“keep still, sweetheart. that’s it,” fuck even her praise is still low and demanding somehow. you wrap your hands around her hairy forearm, hissing curses as you feel yourself grow closer and closer to the edge.

“fuck- you know, i bet you’re a pretty good dj in some other univers- oh my god!” your silly quip is cut short by her pushing one finger into you. then another. and before you know it, you’re a blubbering mess as you soak her hand as well as the car seat beneath you. her mouth is against your masked ear, shushing your witticism. white rings of cum coat up to her knuckles while her thumb resumes a quick pace on your clit.

banter is over as quiet whimpers replace your usual chatterbox routine. her large fingers feel so much better than your own, and then that’s where she leaves you—fingers curling inside your cunt causing your brain to see stars. your orgasm hits you hard, but not as hard as she does—a rough slap to your face intensifies every sensation, leaving you pained like putty in her grasp as you come down from your high. “don’t got much to say now, huh?”

your eyes focus on her hair and how it twirls up on both sides—the classic hairstyle for any and all wolverine’s across the multiverse. “why do~you style~your hair like that?” your voice slurs with dizzy haze, and laura only looks down at your drunken state quizzically. “were ya going f’ wolf? ‘cause it makes ya look more like a cat. like my little meow meow~”

a growl creeps from the back of her throat before three claws find a home—digging into the flesh on your shoulder.

“shit! you angry ‘bout it, mama?” you ask teasingly before watching her slowly remove her belt. “no- not the belt! i won’t be a naughty girl, i swear!”

“don’t be dramatic,” she scoffs as she tosses the belt aside and straddles you again.

“that’s kinda my job. hashtag drama queen. hashtag full-time. ‘round the clock. just like how your full time job is hiding a fully comic accurate superhero suit under your clothes for when its use comes once every twenty fucking years.”

that switched something in her. she yanks your mask off your head and glares down into your eyes. then a smirk sneaks its way onto her lips. fuck. what does she know that you don’t?

“you think this suit is the only thing i keep under my clothes?” your jaw tenses when laura unzips her pants and allows her strap to spring out to your view. it has to be at least eight to nine inches, the color matches her skin tone and the base of it connects to the black harness buckled around her boxers.

“marvel jesus h. christ! where did you even get that thing? the prop table from the set of alien?!"

you half-expect an answer, but she only lifts your mask and forces a mouthful of the red fabric down your throat, leaving your fear-factored size question hanging in the air. “there… silence is nice. isn’t it?” you’ve lost your voice, but you don’t protest. your frustrated whimpers are muffled and shaky breaths escape through your nose as laura traces her dick up and down your wetted lips. “just relax, beautiful,” she whispers as she slips the tip into you. the tone of her voice is teasing, clearly loving how much power she so easily has over you. pushing in deeper, her pace stays agonizingly slow, as if she’s having to think about controlling every thrust. your eyes follow the grinding movements of her hips and your legs instinctively wrap around her waist. as laura starts to speed up, your backside rubs against the car seat. trying to find a sense of stability, your hands scatter up the butch’s clothed torso and eventually grip her broad shoulders. you can’t help but buck your hips again, no longer ashamed of how fucking needy you look doing so. one of her hands claw at the shoulder of the seat behind you while the other has a strong hold on your hip, guiding your body with hers. guiding soon turns to holding and holding soon turns to pinning. not only is she now chasing her high, but she will do whatever she needs to get to it.

“agh~ fuck. is this what you wanted? to be wrapped around me like this? you’re so pathetic, it’s adorable.”

when all you can do is moan in reply, laura knows she’s fucked you stupid, but still long ways away from being done with you. she suddenly stops altogether and pulls out of you, chuckling quietly when you groan due to your pleasure being delayed. she turns you over and props you up on your knees, then holds you down by the back of the neck with one hand and finds a firm grip on your ass with the other. her relentless thrusts continue, causing a repetitive sound of her hips slamming into the backs of your thighs. every time she pulls back, you follow her dick—leaning to her to chase that friction.

she hits nerve after nerve. the pain hurts too fucking good. your words are still muffled against your ladypool mask, the fabric now damp with saliva and drool. maybe tears as well.

“speak up, princess. ‘s hard to hear you,” laura instructs as she removes the piece from your mouth.

“i… i’m… gonna-” you start before trailing off, finding it hard to focus on words as laura speeds up her pace.

“what, pretty thing? y’ gonna cum?”

“tha-that’s what she said!” of course. of-fucking-course those are the words you can get to leave your stuttering mouth.

“god—do you ever shut the fuck up?” laura groans before tossing your mask to the side and holding your hips steady. when she notices your silence, she leans forward, a hand massaging your tit and her teeth taking a harsh bite at your earlobe. “or maybe you just need to be fucked speechless, don’t you?”

yes. a million times yes.

quiet whimpers leave your lips, the smell of cigars and alcohol mixed with the stench of blood and sex is almost overwhelming. laura slows her pace again, taking her sweet time watching, playing, torturing you for pleasure. that sadistic fuck.

“i do love these cute little noises you’re making, yeh? tell me how good it feels. i know it feels good but i wanna hear you say it—come on. spit it out,” she says into your ear. her lips have gone dry from breathing heavily and sweat trickles down her forehead and nose. the torn fabric of her yellow and navy blue suit rug-burns against your skin from all the excessive movement, but you don’t care. laura pulls your arms behind your back before yanking a seat belt out of its buckles to wrap tightly around your wrists. the rough material hurts, but it’s a good-hurt. when you only let out a porn-styled moan (half-exaggerating to poke fun at her), the wolverine behind you reaches under your neck and grabs your jaw. “you’ not gonna use that mouth?”

“fuck- okay! yes, it feels good. you feel so fucking good. just- please, let me- let me cum!”

and your begs get so easily rewarded. laura must have a soft spot for you because her thrusts speed up again, and this time hit hard with no intention of stopping.

what has little wolvie turned you into, hm? you, ladypool, a beggar? breaking out of character many would argue, but maybe that’s her goal: finding what breaks you.

“not yet. shit- wait ‘til i say.”

the hilt of her strap hits her clit just right as she continues to drive herself into your pretty cunt. as minutes pass and breaths quicken, her metal claws unsheathe and dig themselves into the seat beneath you two. she’s close.

with clamped hands still tied behind your back, you sense that knot in your stomach growing. guttural sounds from the back of the throat slip from laura’s lips, filling your ears as she hits your g-spot again and again, pushing you so quickly towards your release for the second time.

“right there! plea- please, please! i’m… gonna-”

“go on, sweetheart. fucking cum~”

at her words, her command—you feel yourself tighten around her. and your moans must’ve been what did it for her because immediately after—husky groans are heard from behind your bare, trembling body. the heavy weight of a wolverine falls against you, breathing hard onto your skin as her sweat-coated face buries itself into the nape of your neck. a trail of little bite marks, enhanced by her small fangs, are left scattered across your shoulders and upper back.

her middle finger finds your clit again to draw little circles, bringing out pitiful whimpers and post-sex muscle spasms from your worn out body.

“ca- canada…”

your contorted face and senselessness brings her to hum—which is her version of a laugh in this dizzy state. she broke you. and it didn’t take very much, did it?

she turns your chin to look up at her, her face reflecting that drunken haze with the ghost of a smile across her lips. her focus falls to your parted mouth for a moment before finally connecting her lips with yours. the kiss is softer than you expect, as if her hunger’s satisfied, yet the warm taste of cigars and alcohol linger.

“y’ did good, sweetheart.”

just good? must she always be so condescending?

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

spent way too long on this lol comment/repost if you like it, loves !!

this is so gonna flop but idc i wrote it for me and bookie 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩

taglist: @pr1ncessjo <3

[thesevro]

[nanami kento] a man of yours, tonight

[Nanami Kento x FTM/Transgender Male Reader Smut] CW: Contains scenes of explicit sex below the cut

Walang plot for real

He has noticed your shy smiles, the exuberance in that glint in your eyes every time he gives voice to the praise you deserve. He'll give it to you no matter the time, the place, or the hour.

—

He has noticed your shy smiles, the exuberance in that glint in your eyes every time he gives voice to the praise you deserve. That color makes you bloom, he said as you headed out the door to start the car. Hmm, new shampoo today? Your hair smells wonderful, he murmured into your ear as you scooped him into your arms to settle in for bed. You’re always using that brain of yours, hm? He told you as you settled the accounts for Jujutsu Tech on a whim, manipulating the arithmetic and algebraic behind accounting with ease. 

Now he moans your name in pleasure, his heartbeat speeding up to match the symphony of your own. Your legs have locked around him. Every time he feels your thighs around his waist and your limbs wrapping around him his brain explodes with pleasure and a delicious throb courses through him. He is yours; you own him, and you are his to breed.

“Kento,” you groan deeply, head twisting to the side as his fingers reach between your thighs to finger the tip of your little cocklet. “Please—wait.”

“No, no, love.” He slides his middle finger up the sensitive tip of your bulging clitoris, shuddering through a breath as you clench tight around him. “Keep using that handsome voice of yours. Make sure everyone hears how good I fuck my beautiful husband.”

Your head tilts up to force a kiss to his lips. Your tongue slides against his. He knows all your tactics, all the ways you try to stop him from saying all the things you like only because you’re too shy to hear them. He parts his lips from yours to suckle kisses along your jaw, gentle enough to leave no bruises but with enough insistence to have you shivering with delight. His cock stretches you inside as he thrusts. 

For a time, he had been shy himself. Making love to you for the first and every time blew his mind, though the words of praise he wished to share with you would catch in his throat. It was when you had made love to him, moaning words of sweetness into his ear with you between his legs that cracked him. He will always remember every second of those moments: the skillful shift of your hips to angle into his sensitive, neglected prostate, the pleasured shudder of your musculature even as he knew your pleasure was derived only by the sight of your sex meeting his. After, though spent and panting from three drawn-out orgasms, he had wrestled you into bed to slip his face between your legs and drag his tongue along your slit. You had already removed the prosthetic and had drawn a bath for the two of you, but he would not heed your call for a bath and simply moved his tongue around your still-hard cocklet. He remembers the way you fought till the end, telling him to leave it be, that you could take care of it yourself, until your body had sagged with each expert movement of his desperate tongue and your wetness gushed from your hole to spill into his starved mouth. He remembers licking into you, past your overstimulation with you clawing at his shoulders, until he’d broken you into giving him a second, your moans deep and borderline exhausted.

“Kento,” you cry now, voice high-pitched. Ah, you’re close. This sensitive cocklet of yours… how he loves it. 

“Mm, let it out, lovely.” 

Cum on my cock, show me what it feels like. Give me your pleasure. Perhaps, one day, he will hear you say these things with your own length pumping inside him.

Your body twists as he draws an orgasm from you. “That’s it,” he moans, his thrusts slowing, deepening as his cock pulses with his own need. “Good boy. Good boy.”

Though his pace has slowed, he falls over the brink easily. His body loosens and he hunches over you to cradle you in his arms as his cock throbs to fill you up with his cum. He groans into your neck, unabashed, holding you close while your lips kiss his ear to tiredly murmur your own praise. 

“Fill me up Kento,” you groan. “Fill me up.”

After, though spent, he draws a bath. He grabs the two towels designated solely for cleaning the both of you up after sex and returns to the bedroom to wipe bewteen your legs, as you have done so many times for him. You give a squeeze to his hand and murmur your thanks. 

“Of course,” he says, kissing the corner of your mouth. “I’ve always got you.”

[winterarmyy]

Promise Me | Part III

When he was sent out for war, Bucky made a promise to his lover that might just last through several lifetimes.

Navigation: Part I | Part II | Part III (end)

Words: 4.2k++

Pairing: 40s!bucky / eventually tfatws!bucky x female!reader

Warnings: angst but happy ending. The anticipation, the hesitation, yup it was real in this one. Not enough dialogue in my opinion but meh my brain was not braining. Bucky's scene before their official reunion.

P/S: Yeay, it's a wrap. Sorry for the delay guys. I'm still sick but feeling better, so that's a good news! This is the final part if the mini series, I hope you enjoy!

Read my other works here: Masterlist

Louisiana, 2024 – New beginning

War after war, from one fight into another, Bucky finally had the chance to catch a breath for himself. With the Flagsmashers gone and Sam being the new Captain America just as Steve envisioned, there was a moment of peace for Bucky's tortured soul to finally rest.

He sat at the deck area of Sam's ship, watching the sun meets the ocean over the horizon, occasionally sipping on his probably fifth bottle of beer.

When he drowned himself in the memories of the events that happened these past few months, suddenly the tranquil of the sunset ahead of him doesn't interest him the least; not when a certain person had been occupying his mind.

Replaying all the twists and turns of his journey fighting those rogue group of super soldiers, one person had been but remained a mystery to him.

The Deathstalker.

It was the one puzzle piece that didn't seemed fit in the picture. As if she was plucked out entirely from a different story, a riddle that would lead him into another adventure beyond the unknown.

He still remembered the way her hands trembled against his face, tears pooling in her eyes that then fell into her mask as she muttered his name again and again.

Bucky gulped as his eyes loomed over hers, "Who are you?"

The Deathstalker seemed to be taken aback by his question. Her mutterings stopped and her eyes locked on his blue ones; there was hesitation in her gaze, or a contemplation of an answer that Bucky was dying to know.

"I-- i'm--" her words stumbled as her feet dragged backwards, putting some space between herself and Bucky.

Bucky's heart stammered in anticipation, he had a gut feeling that she wasn't just someone that he had crossed path with once or twice. He could tell they had some kind of a long history, a deeper connection; Where? When? He wasn't sure. He just knew it that there was something special between them, especially when she looked at him with such eyes.

But before she could give a definite answer, multiple groups of bounty hunters started to re-gather in their area. Zemo came in clutch with a car, picking up the injured Sam with the help of Sharon.

Bucky can hear Sharon's voice yelling out his name yet he didn't move an inch and within minutes they were surrounded by the hunters.

What was it that gave him such courage to court death just to hear her answer? Was it just purely out of curiosity or was it some kind of delusional hope that intrigued his soul?

Y/N looked around to assess their dire situation before gazing up at the taller. She knew this wasn't the best time for the truth and her hesitation only makes it worst.

But when, Bucky held out his hand towards her, "Come with us." there was a strong pull that made her wanted to just give in and take his hand. "Come with me."

And Bucky didn't know why he reached out for her, but it felt right. She glanced in between his hand and his pleading eyes, her own hand twitching, almost submitting to her desire but the last minute she decided to stand on her ground.

Y/N ended up turning her back and fled away, leaving her lover's hand hanging and his question unanswered.

Through the time that Bucky was deep in his memories, he may or may not have unintentionally bored his gaze towards Sarah's direction, which only triggered Sam into a protective brother that he is, "Don't flirt with my sister." He warned.

Bucky briefly scoffed and denied his accusations, "I'm not." He sipped on his bottle as he averted his gaze away.

The look on Sam's face seemed like he was trying to glare into Bucky's soul; he was skeptical with the his deflection. But the brunette only rolled his eyes in response as he spoke, "Seriously. I'm not interested." He continued before Sam couldn't interject, "Not that there's anything wrong with her.. it's just..." 

Seeing Bucky's struggles to find an excuse, Sam curiously quirked, "It's just that you already have a girl in mind?" He suggested.

There was a hint of softness in Bucky's smile when he ran his thumb across the glossy sticker of the bottle, "I had a girl." He spoke dearly as his eyes diluted into another spiral of scattered memories of his past lover, "I had the best girl."

Since the truth that was unfolded in Madripoor, Y/N had been keeping tabs on Bucky. At first, she couldn't believe it. She had to put everything about the super soldier serum on hold, to uncover more of Bucky's survival.

As it turn out, he managed to survive the fall from the train back in 1945 and had been brainwashed into a lethal weapon for Hydra for years after that.

His identity had been a secret for decades but since the fall of Hydra a few years back, the whole world knew who the Winter Soldier was. However, the people in the underground world was much fond of his villain's name, rather than the name of a war hero when it comes to addressing him.

Therefore, the lack of use of his real name had been one of the reason why Y/N was not aware of his existence. Not to mention, when he made his first public appearance when the bombing at Washington D.C. happened, she was determined to leave anything related to her past life behind and was trying to live a new life away in Singapore.

Then, a few years after that, when she came back to New York during the first year of the blip, Bucky was unfortunately, one of the people who vanished.

But, those things doesn't matter anymore now that she knew he was alive. Her Bucky. Her James. He's alive. Y/N couldn't remember the last time she was this happy, this overjoyed. That night, she couldn't sleep very well; not when her heart was working overtime all through the night.

Ever since then, she had been lurking around Bucky and Sam most of the time. Besides, her own mission of making sure the super soldier serum doesn't fall into the wrong hands and to put an end to the Flagsmasher, Y/N was also there just to see Bucky.

She couldn't help it.

Imagine living a somewhat immortal life without a piece of your heart for decades. Withering to the fact that you can never see your lover, not in life nor in death; Or spending days and nights, missing and longing for his soul to be one with yours again.

And then suddenly discovering he was still alive.

Of course, she would use any excuse to see him every single day without fail. But at the same time, she didn't want to make things more complicated than it already was. With the crisis of the vigilante super soldiers, she didn't think it would be wise to reveal herself to Bucky anytime soon.

So, she stayed in the shadows instead, refuse to make herself known to Bucky. Whether as the Deathstalker or as Y/N.

Except for that one time that she decided to help him.

Bucky looked around the parking lot, trying to make a decision on which vehicle would be easiest for him to hijack. That was when he heard her signature robotic voice, "Hey, sarge!" She yelled.

He followed her voice upwards to see her feet dangling in the air, as she sat on the edge of the metal of the fire escape stairs. He hadn't seen her since their first encounter at Madripoor, "You..." Bucky whispered quietly.

Now that he thought about it, did she just call him by his title?

She titled her head to the side, "Do you require any assistance, sargent?" She asked nonchalantly as if they have been buddies for years.

Yup, she did used his title. 

Bucky's signature frown only deepened when she insinuated a jest-like tone. He wasn't sure whether she was trying to appear friendly in order to help him or slow him down. So be safe, his defense went up when he straighten his back into a stance.

When Y/N saw how his guard changed, she decided to get straight to the point, "I didn't come all the way here to fight with you, James" she leaned as if it'll close the distance between them.

She wondered if her words trigger a memory in him; after all, she did use the similar sentence in 1943 when Steve rescued him from Hydra's captivity. But the lack of response from Bucky told her otherwise. Perhaps, it was too long of past for him to remember, or it wasn't significant enough for him.

Bucky's brows quirked when she yelled, "Heads up." and his hand rose up to catch whatever it was she threw down at him.

Y/N briefly titled her head forward as she spoke, "Far left. The black bike." In which Bucky briefly followed her directions, to indeed see a black bike parked at the spot.

Bucky wordlessly turned his head back and gaze up at her with a questioning look on his face. He couldn't see her behind that mask she was wearing but if he could, he would've see her smiling, "You need it more than I do."

It has been a few months since that night. And she was still lurking somewhere in the dark. Everywhere he goes, she will be right around the corner; watching, observing.

Even now, when she found herself standing on one of the boardwalk in Louisiana, near where Sam's boat resides. There was no denying that she was sort of being a creep, basically stalking Bucky from where she was standing.

From this distance, she could see that Bucky was having the time of his life entertaining the kids with his left arm; or maybe the kids were, when they compete each other on how long they can last hanging from the vibranium metal.

Y/N just had to smile seeing him happy like this. Her heart bloomed with warmth that she never thought she would ever had the chance feel again. Bucky looked as if he was finally at peace, and that made her doubt if it was a good idea to insert herself in his life now.

She believed that he deserve a happy ending. After all he had gone through all those years, he should be able to have the luxury of having a completely new life, a new beginning. Away from the past that are just filled with painful memories and dreadful suffering. To find love again and live a long happy life where she is nothing but a distant memory.

He deserve that.

But is that what she truly wanted?

Brooklyn, 2024 – Truth Untold

"That'll be $25, sir." The red-haired smiled as she handed Bucky his usual order. He paid accordingly as he took it off her hands and walked out of the cozy little shop at the corner of the busy city street.

His gloved hand gripped onto the stem of the bouquet, as his dark and tall silhouette slithered through the crowd. Everybody seemed to be entranced with whatever it was on the screen of their phones, while Bucky felt like he was out of place and time with arrangement of primroses in his hands.

The hustle bustle of the city slowly transitioned into a much calmer and quieter scenery. He walked passed the rusty, almost deteriorating entrance gate, nodding to the old ground keeper as he passed by. He knew he could get lost if he doesn't keep his focus, yet his eyes remained on the petals of the flowers, gambling his trust in his feet to bring him to the only spot they recognized.

"Hey, doll." Bucky greeted, gripping on the stem a little tighter as he read the name of his lover on the worn-looking headstone. Months of cleaning and tending her grave, it still looked grey and sombre compared to when he first visited; but that tends to happen to a grave is been left out since the 70's.

He lowered into a crouching position and placed the flowers in front of the headstone, "I'm sorry I've been missing some weeks on ya. Duty calls." Bucky knew that wasn't a good excuse to miss their dates but the Flagsmashers events had caused him to skip this little Tuesday routine of his.

As depressing it might sound, he missed coming here.

Besides going to therapy, this has been the only place where Bucky talks the most about his feelings. Though it might be completely a one-sided conversation, but he could spend hours talking to her. Telling her anything and everything that's been going on in that pretty head of his. No matter how scrambled and messy it was up there.

Bucky traced his fingers to the words engraved in the stone; it read 'Beloved daughter, sister, aunt, and friend.' Each title were delightful as they were but then again, she could've been 'a lovely wife' and 'a great mother', but she didn't.

"Why didn't you?" Bucky whispered quietly. "I just know that men must've been thrilled chasing after you, begging on their knees for your hand." He chuckled as he remembered all those times when his friends would ogle over her whenever he brought her out for a dance, "And you'd be a wonderful mother too." Knowing her gentle nature and how the kids in the hospital adored her, he just knew she would be.

His heart pierced painfully to think that she might have grown old alone, and died without family of her own. "You should've live a happy life, y/n. Marry a good man, build a family." Tears that pooled started to drip from the corner of his eyes, each tore an aching sob from his throat, "And I wished I could've be there with you."

It wasn't rare for Bucky to cry during his visits to Y/N's grave. He is the most vulnerable when he's with her; even in death, being around her has been comforting for his soul.

Y/N could clearly hear the sound of his sniffles when she stood closer to him like this. She spend day after day, gathering the courage and figuring out what to say if she ever confronted Bucky.

But in the end, the fact that Bucky was just within her reach, living, breathing; it broke whatever plan she had in her mind.

It still felt like a dream. A lucid one.

Bucky knew that was someone standing behind him; but he felt no sorts of vendetta from the person and if they mean him any harm, they would've done it sooner. He roughly stroke his palm across his face in effort to hide the tears streaks away and took a deep breath as he stood on his feet.

Whoever he had in mind, well it was definitely not that person who was standing behind him right now. It totally caught him off guard when he saw the Deathstalker standing in front of him instead of any other familiar faces.

Though her identity was still hidden, but instead of her combat attire, she was in a much comfortable clothes. Casual sneakers, basic jeans, an oversize sweater, its hood pulled over her head and a soft cloth mask covering her lower face.

Despite the change of style, her eyes were still the same. Big, bright and Bucky could only describe them to be filled with curiosity and concern as they looked up at him. He could feel the burn from the drag of her gaze on each part of his features; the softness of his lips, the red of his nose and especially the puffiness of his eyes.

He broke the silence when he started the conversation, "I assume that you're not going to fight me." He said, "At least you don't look like you're equipped for it..." Bucky pointed out the obvious.

Y/N took a few seconds of silent blinking before she responded with a shook of her head.

The lack of verbal response somehow caused him to feel slightly awkward. Rubbing the back on his neck, Bucky titled his head to the side, "So... you're here for your bike?" He asked. He still hold on to the bike that she lend to him, though it was back at his place, if that's what she wanted.

Her eyes curved into a pair of crescent moons, a side effect of a smile that Bucky couldn't see. She shook her head again to deny his speculation.

Bucky pointed out at the graveyard around them when he asked, "Uhh...are you here for a visit too?" He doubt it but it was worth to try.

Y/N looked over his shoulder, reading the familiar name engraved on the headstone behind him, before locking her eyes back to his. She shook her head yet again.

Bucky was starting to get why Sam felt annoyed with his staring problem now that he had first hand experience. Though she wasn't glaring at him like Bucky would at Sam, but still, she was staring at him most of the time. And the lack of words made it more noticeable. "You don't talk much do you?" He asked, there was a hint of passive-aggressive in his tone.

And Y/N recognized that tone anywhere. She was surprised that that part of him hasn't change since the 40's. She remembered how Bucky would use this tone whenever he was irritated but he didn't want to be a jerk and yell out his frustration.

The fact that she still managed to notice this little quirks of his after all these years made her chuckle amusingly. There wasn't a voice changer now, it was just her voice; raw and unfiltered. And even if it was muffled behind the cloth of her mask, her laugh sounded awfully familiar to Bucky.

It sounded pretty and soft, that it tickled something in deep within his chest but not enough to trigger any memory from his subconscious, "Then, what are you doing here?" He asked curiously.

It took a moment of blinking silence before Y/N grabbed onto the fabric of her hood; she pulled it back and it revealed her long, slightly wavy hair . Bucky watched intently as her index finger slipped into the tiny slot at the side of her nose, hooking it on the fabric of her mask.

And those mere seconds of hesitation triggered the tears to form in her eyes. Her heart beating fast, tiredlessly pumping blood through the veins of her body yet her fingers still runs cold with fear.

Between the thumping sound of her own heartbeat, she might have second guessed her own decision of revealing her identity. Thinking that maybe it was best to leave the truth untold. Because what if Bucky refused to believe her?

It would truly destroy her; this time, beyond repair.

Y/N briefly closed her eyes as she breathed in, she then pulled the mask down to reveal her face. The crack in her voice betrayed the smile that curved on her trembling lips, "I'm here for you." She finally spoke.

The upward movement of muscle around her cheeks pushed her tears out, letting it flow from the corner of her eyes. She didn't dare to look at him in the face for too long, so her eyes casted downwards to where her feet dug the ground.

Decades passed and it might have been several lifetimes for Y/N since the 40's but it only felt like it was yesterday for Bucky. Especially when he had lived many years of his life to either be awake for the Winter Soldier or asleep in the freezing chambers.

All of which were just scattered of loose memories to him now. It haunted him, yes. But sometimes he couldn't tell if it was just a series of nightmares or actual reality. Thus, he tends to feel as if he had lost his sense of time. That is why he always felt out of place in the modern society.

Inside, he felt like he was still the man he was in the 40's; just thrusted forward in time. And since he started to tap into the memories of himself in those olden times, it made him felt like it hasn't been that long for Bucky since he last saw her.

Yes, he felt like it was just short distance of time but his soul certainly didn't feel the same. It had been deprived of its other half for far too long.

All the images of their time together flashed rapidly through his mind; every touch, every kiss, every laughter and even every tears they ever shared, all came rushing in like untamed waves crashing to the shore.

The beautiful strings of chaos in his head hadn't calm the slightest, in fact it pushed Bucky to move forward; to catch her silhouette before it could disappear on him like the way it always does in his dreams.

Y/N's vision was blocked when Bucky smushed her face to his chest, trapping her in an unbreakable embrace as he whispered her name, "y/n?"

Was he talking to her or was he talking to himself? Because he didn't stop muttering her name as if it was some sort of a ritual chanting.

Bucky's hand briefly roamed her body from the back of her head, barely passing her shoulders, across the spine and then folded around her waist, drawing her in; impossibly closer.

That was when she felt his body shake; much like herself, Bucky was crying for the lost time that they will never make back, for the pieces of hearts broken in those decades that they lived without one another.

Bucky had witness some unbelievable things throughout his long life on this earth; lots of mind-boggling creation of man-made technology, actual magic and sorcerers, aliens and literal Gods.

He should know that nothing is impossible. Yet, holding Y/N in his arms felt unbelievably surreal to him.

Before she managed to draw in the air, her body felt the need to melt into his form. She can feel his firm grasp around her frame, and feel how rapid his heart beating on her cheek.

At that moment, she couldn't help but to find resemblance of him to his past habits; he way he holds her, how his fingers would occasionally dance across her body, or how his nose would nudge into her hair.

Even his scent remained the same. At least the essence of it were unchanged.

Being in his arms reminded her of the whispers of promises Bucky made to her, "You promised to come home." Y/N tried to steady her breath, "You promised to come back to me."

Bucky pulled her head back, cradling her face in the contrast of his hands; one was once warm and another that felt familiar. He desperately wiped her tears away with his thumbs, almost too rough of a caress but surprisingly it brought more relief than pain to her.

Even in the sorrow and grief, anger managed to slipped through when she growled, "You dickhead, you left me behind." Though it was weak, her punches still hits the target perfectly.

Repeatedly slamming her tiny fists on his sturdy chest. The chest that were caged with heavy remorse and regret. And there wasn't really anything he could say to sooth the pain that she felt when he died.

Bucky knew that, but he had to say something, anything, "I-doll, I'm so sorry..." He was drowning her with his eyes, flooding her heart with his tears as his hand ran through her hair. Soft as he remembered it to be; at least compared from the lucid dreams she was starring in.

"Shhh!" Y/N hushed him quickly, "Just please..." her breath shuddered when she inhaled.

She didn't spend most of her lifetimes to hear an apology, not from him. If anything, he should swear on his life to never leave again, to stay this time around and always. She tugged him closer, lips hovering over each other's, just one nudge away to finally get the sweet taste of it, "...never again."

And when he kissed her, it tastes of her tears. But it was beyond fulfilling. Like their lost soul were finally being able to touch again. The gentle need, the tender crave of his kiss was enough to forge her trust back into its former glory.

And all of the sudden Bucky felt like he was drowning again; like he was desperate to breathe and she was the air. He kissed her again, and again, and again. As if he needed the taste of her lips to survive the waves; like she was his lighthouse in dark.

When they finally set apart, she wanted to speak but all she can do was croak, "Don't leave me, not again." Bucky's lips curved into a loving smile and he nods once. He folded her frame in his arms, tightly and closely; his whisper was ever-so-soft when he promised, "Never."

End.

Read my other works here: Masterlist

A/N: Did you notice two dialogue throwback from when Bucky was rescued in 1943? "I didnt come all the way here to fight with you, James" and "I'm here for you" Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this one. Thanks for reading and maybe tell you what you think?

[randomshyperson]

Mess is Mine - Milf!Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Summary: Being divorced from Wanda Maximoff implies never getting over her.

Warnings: (+18), language, brief smut, divorced ladies who are very still much in love with each other, unspecified age gap, marriage going wrong, hopeful ending, mild angst, fluff.| Words: 3.949k.

A/N-> There's this divorced couple in a Brazilian soap opera with so much chemistry in their scenes together because of the intimacy gained during marriage (even though that didn't work out) and they won't leave my tik tok ; at some point, my brain thought about this fic. I would love to write more of this trope in the future.

General Masterlist | AO3 | Wattpad

--//--

Wanda had a persistent migraine, and the pile of work in front of her was not helping.

Still, all her stubborn brain could focus on instead of her real job was the stupid headline of the gossip magazine on her desk.

A cheap and badly angled photo of her ex-wife with colorful captions that read 'The newest business killer couple?" and dozens more insinuations about a secret high-society romance made her stomach churn.

Wanda tried not to be affected by the gossip, but you looked so happy in the photo that she couldn't help it.

The sudden opening of her door made Wanda jump in her seat, in one quick pull close the magazine and sigh with relief when she saw it was only Natasha.

"Why are you here?" Her long-time friend and co-worker asked. Wanda frowned in confusion.

"It's still my company..."

Nat rolled her eyes, walking into the office and taking long strides to her desk. "I meant in here, smarty-pants. The event is starting in an hour, the staff wanted some words of encouragement or something."

Wanda sighed wearily, massaging her forehead with one hand. "Can't you do that for me, Nat? I gotta make some calls."

Nat hummed in agreement, but her gaze caught the closed magazine on the table and she raised a brow at her friend. "One of those calls includes your ex-wife, I suppose."

Wanda chuckled dryly, taking the magazine out to one of the drawers and adjusting herself to reach the desk phone. "There's nothing else for me to say to her."

Her friend hid a smile that said that she didn't believe this one bit. "Okay, whatever you say. See you later, boss."

Wanda waved goodbye, with the phone to her ear. Her immediate instinct was to dial known numbers but she shook her head to push that ridiculous idea away and went back to work.

Several hours after the peak of the event when the company was filled with guests, from potential clients to journalists looking for any news like vultures at the carrion, Wanda was at her second glass of champagne, trying to keep the rest of her patience intact after having answered so many questions for gossip magazines regarding the headline from earlier in the day.

She absolutely did not want to discuss a possible romance between her ex-wife and the heiress of Bishop Industries. 

Years before, any of them would have been afraid to question her about something so ridiculous, but that was before you came along. And melted your way into the Business Ice Queen, the untouchable Wanda Maximoff, or whatever insensitive nickname they invented about her back then. Before breaking down all of Wanda's walls, making her a better person, and of course, before you left her.

It was definitely the alcohol's fault that she was thinking about this, and with these stupid tears welling up in her eyes. Wanda swallowed all the emotion, burying it deep and making sure that no one had noticed her broken expression. With an excuse to a group of investors who were boring her into a corner, she retreated to an area far away from the company's outdoor gardens, taking a deep breath to calm herself. The beautiful view of the state lake was most welcome.

So of course the reason for her almost minor breakdown had to show up wearing her favorite suit.

"Are you running away from your guests, Maximoff?" Your tone was casual, the smile provocative. She snorted to herself, crossing her arms and keeping her eyes on the lake. You didn't mind, walking over to her at a slow pace until you were beside her on the edge. 

"I just needed some air." She merely replies. With one hand in your pockets, you adjust your own hair, and Wanda hates that she can smell the shampoo, her body betraying her and shuddering as if your scent were addictive. 

"You're avoiding me today." You comment lightheartedly, studying her face. "I arrived an hour ago and it took me almost all this time to find you."

Wanda forced a smile, finally facing you back, but her angry look made you hesitate. "I thought your chaperone was keeping you busy."

You glanced back at the party, stealing a quick check on Kate at the food stand, chatting with a blonde girl, before turning your attention back to Wanda.

"I forgot how hot you get when you're jealous."

Wanda huffs away, her cheeks burning which she tries to hide by staring at the lake. "Don't even start." She warns between teeth.��

You chuckle, rolling your eyes, but don't insist. You turn your attention to the lake as well. "I wanted to let you know that the boys have already arrived in King Cross. I spoke to them and Charles on the phone."

"I know, Pietro texted me." She retorts more harshly than she meant to and bites the inside of her cheek as she sees you lower your head in upset. With a sigh, she mumbles, "I meant, thanks for letting me know."

You smile, nodding before turning your gaze back to the party. "What do you think of Miss Bishop?" 

Wanda locks her jaw; How dare you honestly. A list of curses lays ready on the tip of her tongue, but she remembers where you two are, and takes a deep breath. You were clearly trying for some kind of reaction from her, and she's not going to let you have this victory today.

"She's beautiful." Wanda replies. "As young as you were when I met you."

You chuckle shortly, raising an eyebrow at her. "What are you implying, Maximoff?"

Wanda shrugs her shoulders softly, turning to leave. "You're quite clever, Y/N, I'm sure you follow." She hits back, but you step forward into her path. You are suddenly too close, and Wanda finds herself holding her breath. She needs to take a step back to avoid stopping breathing for good.

Your eyes stare into theirs. "Not that this is any of your business, darling, but my relationship with Kate is strictly professional."

You assure her in a low tone, and Wanda swallows hard as your gaze moves down to her lips for a long moment before focusing on her eyes again. A smile forms on your mouth next. "Besides this, I've always had a thing for older women."

Wanda sighs heavily, using all her mental control to pull away at once. "Go pay attention to your chaperone, Y/N. Especially if she's a potential client."

You roll your eyes at the business tip; you already know them by heart, the vast majority learned from Wanda. And your ex-wife makes mention of leaving, so you slide your hand down her forearm gently, taking some amusement in seeing the way she shivers.

"I wanted to talk to you about something, Wanda." You let her know, with a serious tone but a tender look. The redhead swallows dryly at the closeness of your faces now that you're standing side by side, your hands connected. "Later, after the party, okay?"

"I-I..."

"It's important." You assure her, knowing her hesitation is so as not to break your agreement about relapses. With a gentle expression, you insist, "Please, it won't take more than five minutes."

She licks her lips, and you almost kiss her. Lucky for her she agrees and walks away because God knows you would have done it, right there in that garden for all the New York reporters to have a week's news about.

Without Wanda's perfume around you, you take a deep breath and try to clear your mind, having to wait a few more minutes in the garden for your heart to stop beating so fast.

As the event nears its end and Wanda needs to give a closing speech, you say goodbye to Kate before the parking area. You ignore all the journalists who try to insinuate something about you having taken the girl to the car and exchange a glance with Wanda in the small crowd before moving toward the elevator.

Wanda has always known you so well, and with a nod, she knows exactly where she has to go.

Her work floor is completely deserted as she makes her way to her own office. But she still closes the door as she enters, letting out a tired laugh at your figure sitting on her armchair.

Her smile fades when she sees what you are reading.

"Headlines nowadays are getting creative..." You wryly chuckle, laughing at your ex-wife's caught expression. "It says here that I might have an eye to the Bishop's fortune. How silly, you gave me almost half of yours in the divorce, why would I need more money?"

"Very funny." Wanda dryly retorts, reaching up to snatch the magazine from your hands with a tug, and raking the item into the trash afterward. She crosses her arms as she looks at you. "What did you want to tell me?"

You flashed a small, sideways smile. "You used to be more polite when you wanted to sleep with me. At least offer me a drink."

Wanda chuckled dryly, rolling her eyes and begrudgingly moving to the personal bar in the corner of the room. If she leaned over more than necessary to grab one of the whiskey bottles, aware that the position in the chair gave you a full view of her ass, neither of you said anything about it. She hid her satisfied smile as she heard your breath hitch at the image, and you hid your own reaction as you cleared your throat and looked away.

Shortly thereafter, two shots of whiskey were served on the glass table in front of you. But before the toast, you declared:

"I'm leaving."

Wanda frowned, and when you made mention of taking the glass, she placed her hand on your forearm. "Speak."

You chuckled, staring her in the eyes. "I closed a contract with the Ten Rings folks. They want me in Korea for the next four months."

Wanda lets go of your arm as if she had been burned and steps away from the table with an indecipherable, but very disturbed expression.

"B-but the boys.." She tries to formulate, but you rise from the armchair with a sigh.

"They'll be at school." You retort, even though firm, your gaze is almost pleading. For what, Wanda doesn't have the heart to wonder. "It's not as if they stay with us all the time, Wands. The boarding school takes up this time quite well. It will only be four months, and they've already invented the telephone and internet, you know?" You try to joke, but Wanda hugs her own body and faces you.

"Why are you here, then? You've traveled before."

"Not for that long." You say, taking steps toward her, and mentally thanking heavens that she doesn't pull away. "And not... not since we made the divorce official."

"Y/N..."

"I know, I know." You murmur with a sad smile, raising your hands to her arms uncovered by her dress. "Maybe it's stupid, but I wanted to make sure we're okay. That it won't be something...I don't know, that hurts us."

"More than a divorce? I find that difficult." She replies with restrained emotion in her husky voice. You sigh.

"Wanda..."

"No, you're right. It was stupid." She cuts off, pulling away so you don't see the tears welling up in her eyes. "Of course it's okay. But I appreciate that you respect the concept of shared custody. I imagine the kids already know?"

"Yes, I told them before I took them to the airport." You mutter upset, watching Wanda walk away to the window. "But Wands, I wanted to tell you in person..."

"And why is that, huh?" she retorts with an impatience that makes you flinch. And for this, Wanda loses it for good. "You know, I don't understand you! You left me! You filed for divorce, you wanted to break us up. But you keep showing up here, and at home, and everywhere, and now you want to come here and say you care-"

"I care, Wa-"

"Then why did you leave me?" she shouts back, almost regretting it when she sees the tears in your eyes. You laugh tearfully, shaking your head.

"We've had this conversation dozens of times, Wan." You say, much calmer than she is. "But you just can't accept that you're wrong, can you?"

"Right, I forgot that I'm the villain in your story." She sneers, wiping her face with the back of her hand. You give another sad laugh.

"I wish it were that simple, darling." You tell her, taking slow steps toward her. "If you were just the villain, the bad wife, the evil boss, everything would be easier. I could hate you, curse your names to all my friends, and spend all the divorce money on expensive, empty things out there, but it's not like that. You forget the part that I love you and tried to fight for us until the last second."

Wanda sobs quietly, looking down at the floor, "Don't do that, Y/N."

"But it's true, baby, you know. I'm not the one who broke any promises, Wands. I just got tired of begging for crumbs of attention from the person who swore to spend the rest of her days with me."

Wanda lifts her chin, and the determination in her gaze doesn't do justice to the tears. "You knew how much my career meant when you said yes."

You smile sadly, taking one last step to get close enough to hold her face. Wanda shudders as you wipe away her tears, as you have done so many times before, as if no time has passed and everything was fine.

"I am so proud of you, Wands, for all you have accomplished with your work. I only wish I had been as important as this building." 

You place a long kiss on her forehead, pulling away afterward. You offer her one last sad smile before closing the door on your way out. Wanda starts to cry as soon as you have done so, even though she tries very hard to keep her tears away.

–//–

You burned a pancake to answer the door, but all the irritation over the ruined dish vanished when you saw Wanda standing in front of you.

It had only been a few days since you had last seen her, and now all the furniture in your apartment was already packed away and covered with rags, prepared for the time you would be away. Wanda's party dress gave way to a casual suit that made you swallow dryly and become self-conscious of the sweatpants and sports top you were wearing. Wanda wouldn't have picked anything better.

"Are you going to let me in, detka?" Wanda asked with some teasing for your moment of shock. You immediately recovered, making room for her to enter and closing the door once she was in the hall. "Sorry for disturbing your breakfast. I wanted to see you before your flight."

"Oh, don't worry about it. And I'm not going until the afternoon." You clarified somewhat clumsily by her presence, one hand still holding a spatula and the other adjusting your hair. "I made pancakes if you'd like..."

"I would love it." Wanda assured with a smile that made your stomach twist. It wasn't fair that your ex-wife got more beautiful every time you looked at her, honestly.

Wanda followed you back into the kitchen, and to both your surprise, you fell into a light conversation about work and the boys while preparing and serving food, completely different from the tone of the conversation the last time you had seen each other. 

But it was a time bomb, of course, so you weren't surprised when Wanda suddenly bit her lip, assuming a more tense posture. 

Finishing chewing your pancakes, you asked:

"Why are you here, sweetheart?" 

Wanda raised her eyes to you, and you stared back at her, patiently for her to clarify. 

"I wanted to say goodbye to you properly." She said, spinning her own stool around first before tipping her hands around yours to spin you toward her. You raise a brow in curiosity, but the question of what she was doing dies in your throat as she leans in and brings your lips together. 

It has been exactly three months, eighteen days, and sixteen hours since you last kissed Wanda, and you only realize how much you missed the feeling when she does it again. It's as intoxicating as it is overwhelming, and you gasp into her lips, breaking the kiss at once as you stand up, taking good steps away from the countertop.

"Wanda, we talked about this." You remind her in a husky voice, pressing a hand over your face. It's ridiculous how much your skin is burning and your heart is racing for something that lasted less than three seconds. "No relapses. You promised-"

"It's not a relapse." She assured, reaching up and grabbing your hands to place them around her waist. You grunted at the sensation, closing your eyes as Wanda slipped hers over your shoulders, too close for you to think about anything other than her. "It's a parting gift. So you'll have a reason to come back."

"W-what...?"

Wanda presses closer and brings her mouth to your ear. "Just stop overthinking it and accept the gift, detka."

With encouragement, she bites the lobe of your ear, and you give up resisting.

With a tug on her waist, you bring your mouths together in a kiss much hungrier and more passionate than the first, which elicits loud, almost primal moans of need from both of you. Wanda pushes and pulls, and by the time you stumble to the back of the living room couch, your pants are already open and there's nothing covering your torso; much like the woman in front of you, who as soon as she throws you sitting up against the cushions, your breathing out of rhythm and your lips swollen from kissing hard, makes a show of removing the rest of her clothes.

She has time to smile mischievously at your look of pure adoration at her completely naked body in front of you before you pull her onto your lap by her thighs. Wanda climbs on you with a needy grunt, burning from the inside out in anticipation for you to touch her again.

Your touches are almost desperate, your kisses mark her skin. It is your gift, but you also seem determined to make sure that Wanda has the memory of this morning for quite some time. 

When your mouth closes around her nipples, she whimpers to the ceiling, arching her back and steadying her hands in your hair, a soft plea that you not stop.

"Yes, baby, just like that." She encourages over the stimulation on her nipples, breaking into an excited whimper when you simply use your free hand to masturbate her. At any other time, you would have taken your time to work her up until she was begging for your touch, but now, in the urgency you two were sharing, it wasn't necessary. She was ready for you. 

Your fingers penetrate her without delay, and Wanda digs her nails into your shoulder, breaking into a breathless moan. You give one last hickey on her hardened nipple before you move your face back up to hers, kissing her with intensity as your fingers dance inside her walls with the mastery of one who has done this a dozen times, one who knows her like the palm of the hand she so deliberately grinds against in the intention of relieving herself.

"G-god, detka! Right here!" She breaks the kiss into an affected moan, practically meowing as you repeatedly hit that sensitive spot inside her. The wetness grows in your palm, Wanda oozes into you, and to help her, you bring your free hand to her hip, coordinating her movements as she begins to fail. "I-I'm going to..."

"Don't talk, show." You interrupt her with a proud little smile, moving your mouth down to bite the sensitive spots on her neck. "Come to me, baby, I've got you."

That's all she needs to reach the first climax of the morning, and she is not surprised that you don't stop at the first. Or the second, or the third.

You are on your knees on the living room floor when your first alarm goes off. Breathing as out of breath as Wanda, on the couch with her torso exposed and her legs spread from which you against your will need to remove your face to turn off the alarm when you pull away.

She covers herself when you disappear to the kitchen because she knows it's because of the flight, and when you return, the cell phone goes on the coffee table and you sit on the floor next to her on the couch. 

There is a long silent pause, where only your breaths can be heard. Wanda skirts a hickey on her own thigh and you sigh.

"We shouldn't have..." But you can't complete, it because your voice fails you as if you are going to start crying. You look away, and Wanda lets herself fall to your side on the floor, where she reaches for your hand.

"Detka, look at me." She asks, and you have to wait a moment until you sniffle and do so with difficulty.

"I told you it hurts me, Wands. I can't-" You take a deep breath. "I can't heal if this keeps happening. There’s no getting over you if we keep doing this”

She shakes her head. "I don't want you to get over me." She says and you huff, trying to pull her hand away, but Wanda squeezes. "I love you, you know I do."

"Love is not enough." You retort bitterly, your eyes filled with tears. "Loving me doesn't mean you won't hurt me. Nor that you won't ignore me. Those are just words, Wanda. I haven't felt loved by you in a long time."

She releases your hand from the shock of your words, and watches you create a physical distance between you as you walk away. You slip away to the bedroom, muttering that you need to get ready for the flight, and she tries to make a decision the whole time you are in the shower.

When you return to the room, wearing a set of travel clothes, Wanda is wearing your sweatpants and her own dress shirt. Your chest aches to see her wearing your clothes again.

"Wanda, you'd better go, my flight-"

"I love you, detka." She cuts you off with eyes bright with determination as she stares at you. You swallow dry, but can't resist when Wanda reaches up to touch your face. "I will make sure you know it. You'll know it so deeply that you'll be able to feel it in your bones. And you'll never doubt it again."

You sniffle lightly. "Wanda..."

"Don't worry about it now, detka." She interrupts you more gently, caressing your face. "Have a great trip. I'll be here when you come back home."

You sigh, and Wanda doesn't let you say anything more, kissing you in a calmer, but somehow much more intense way than before. 

She leaves the apartment before you, with a wink and a request that you call the boys before and after the flight. 

And even before she gets to the first floor, Wanda has already texted Natasha about her early retirement procedure after her well-deserved family vacation.

[bronx-bomber87]

Happy Wednesday wonderful fandom :) We have hit episode 4, I once again am SO happy this is back. Makes my Wednesdays so much better. I missed this show so much. Now I was legit resigned to have no real moment in this one. I really was. Not only that but I was ok with that too. The SL was really really good. I was enjoying Wes/Wopez getting some of the spotlight. I adore this show as a whole.

So I was down to enjoy this ep just for the SL they had lined up. I am thrilled we got a moment. Scaling the walls excited. I do my best to keep these first impressions as brief as possible. Since I do deep dives in the summer. When I really flesh my thoughts with the entire season in hand. But when we get good moments it's harder to be brief ha So bear with me if I'm a little longer than I have been. Let us begin shall we?

7x04 Darkness Falling

We start the day off with some good ole ass kissing from Ridley. The more this kid opens his mouth the more I dislike him tbh. So I'm with Tim groaning at his platitude. 'Oh god.' I'm cackling. I love this man so much you guys. Lucy is all smiles though of course. She wants to see the best in him because well it's Lucy. We all love this woman for her compassion. But their reactions are just so on point. Their Grumpy x Sunshine dynamic doing it's thing. Always makes me happy to witness.

I do love that Lucy follows it up with saying no one likes a suck up lmao My girl. I mean no one does.....They drive me absolutely insane. But this is her accepting what he has to say but also letting him know she isn't won over either. He has work to do. They both do really. Friggin miracle they're both still standing there.

We get to a gnarly crash and the rookies are put to work by Celina. Who is primary. You go girl. So excited for her this season. We can sense her stress as she attempts to contain and maintain the scene. She has Ridley take pics of the cars, which he messes up. Not getting every inch like she asked.

Telling him firmly but still kindly that she can't hold his hand. Texas giving him a hard time seeing this. Seth gets a little uppity with him. It's here we witness conflicting stories …..No matter the reasoning a cop who lies habitually is ick central for me. Makes me start to question his integrity. Gonna take a lot to come back from this IMO. Lucy looks very disappointed. I would be too. Also a little on edge wondering why he's lying?

First thing noticed when Penn was searching the car was the gun in the glove box....I knew when he said it was all clear it was going to bite him in the ass. It does immediately and royally so. We see bit by bit that confidence that he came in with slowly eroding. Tim is breaking this kid down in order to build him back up. He's gotta quit it with the Texas stuff. It only angers Tim even more. He doesn't want excuses he wants progress.

I know it may seem like Tim being extra hard on Texas. But D (makeitastrength) brought up a great point from 3x11 either last ep or before in the comments. On how Tim trains based on his trainee. And this boy needs to be knocked down a thousand pegs and then some. We see with each episode him changing I will say. Becoming more remorseful. Less cocky with Tim. The way he reacts to his punishment is proof of that.

Tim is right to do this to him. He’s not in Texas anymore. That is not a valid excuse for everything. Or ever honestly. I had a guy on my team who did the same thing. Would excuse his screw ups and say 'But in Tennessee we did this.' etc. One day we were on a ride a long. He did it again as an excuse. I told him you’re no longer in TN. You’re in CO now. Those rules don’t apply here. And it finally clicked and he stopped doing it.

Tim has to beat it into his brain he’s not in a small town anymore. Far from it….and he most definitely isn’t in Texas anymore either. Once he lets that go he will get better. Tim pegged him from day one about him needing to be deprogrammed first. That’s going to take the longest with him.

SOOOOO Seth is officially a liar..... I hate it so very much. Not only did he lie but he did it in front of Lucy earlier. Someone mentioned the possibility of him being a liar. It was in an ask D got I remember and I never thought of it. So Kudos to that person for spotting that early. I didn't clock that. Like at all. Cause I too am like Lucy in my empathy and believed him. Guess I shouldn’t have….Hiding more than I would like.

My gut is saying I would like him to wash out. Is that mean? Sure but also he's not giving anything positive right now. We haven’t see one since s3 with the Badger and Katie. But he’s Lucy’s rookie, so that’s the only reason I don’t actually want that to come to pass.. Idk how he’s gonna come back from this compulsive lying. I’m not a fan. Gonna take some really good development to make me forgive this.

I LOVE this final moment with Texas. Tim does a masterful job of not breaking. I commend Miles for saying he appreciates all Tim is doing for him. He can see that it isn't just to be harsh with him. There is a method to his madness. To quote Lucy from 1x04 'He's calculating not cruel.' He’s teaching this kid right.

Not only that he recognizes why Tim is so hard on him. Also he's being brought back down to earth. Especially about not knowing it all. Realizing how many holes he really has in his knowledge. Having an epiphany in this scene. It's amazing progress to see. You're growing on me Texas. On Tim too. You can see it in his eyes through out his speech. Excited to see how he continues to be molded.

There is so much to unpack in this scene. It's insane. First of all. Tim’s house! I've missed it. God it’s gorgeous. Holy hell. So glad Eric pressed to have it return. It's as beautiful and understated as he is. Also feral Caitlin must make appearance. Cause he is in street clothes after all. gimme gimme. AND In my favorite color no less. Only he could make such a plain shirt so god damn attractive. The way it tightens around his chest. Hot damn. I'm a puddle. Mmm wanna climb him like a tree. *fans self*

If that isn't enough to make me lose my mind we have Kojo! Return of our fav pupper. Their handsome fur baby making an appearance. Barking before Lucy even knocks on the door. Just knows his mama is near. Alerting Tim to get up and greet their visitor. Look at how excited our boy is when he opens the door and she's there. No one makes this man light up faster than Lucy Chen.

We see the disappointment on his face when he realizes it's work related. Hence the sassy reply about her question. Lucy, just letting her damn self in regardless of what Tim is saying though. They are in fine form here everyone. I’m so happy right now. Lucy airing her concerns about Seth to Tim. Saying how she can't shake the feeling something is off. I feel that way too...Giving me the ick hard.

Tim does his best to put her mind at ease about Seth. Saying how comprehensive they are. They're invasive and he has to pass a polygraph as well. Tim slyly mentioning how they both know how illuminating those can be. Heh Tim’s liar detector joke. Love the little shots he takes and it earns a smile out of her. Little flirt. Well done babe.

I adore that her instinct is still to rely on Tim. When she’s worried or unsure. That is her go to. He is still her person in that regard. That inexplicable pull she can’t quite deny or ignore. Was hoping this whole Seth thing would lead her to Tim for advice. Just wasn't expecting it to be in his house. I'm tickled pink about it though haha

Feeling a surge of frustration and doubt, Lucy apologizes and starts to walk away. Like it's just hitting her what she's done. Showing up unannounced at his house, forcing her way in, asking his advice and flirting with him in the process. Her adrenaline wearing off and she is feeling vulnerable. She can feel that familiar draw of their banter. As she stated in 5x12. They're so good at arguing. Her immediate reaction is to retreat for a multitude of reasons. Kojo gets up and says hold on there mom not just yet.....

I love him getting up right away not letting her go without some snuggles. That a boy. You be our little Chenford cheerleader. Doing his best to keep her there. He resets the mood with this move. Lucy loving on Kojo makes my heart so happy. Also look at Tim. The man could power a city with that smile. He is melting into a damn puddle in front of her. Couldn't be happier to see them together again. Lucy letting Kojo know how much she misses him.

'Feeling's mutual.' OH. MY. LORD. Way to be transparent af my love. Do it more….Straight up using Kojo to say he misses Lucy. It's oozing out of him, how much he craves her presence. I cannot everyone. Let's not ignore the fact that Lucy looks at him sweetly in reply. Melting a little more each episode. It's a very telling look. Still a little guarded but happy none the less. I will take this win from her. So will Tim. Any positive moment with her is a win.

Tim nervously asking her to stay. *screams into a pillow* Sweet baby James. I'm so giddy I might faint. The little breath he takes before he asks. *heart clutch* So reminiscent of 5x08. This is everything. That man is so so gone for her. He wants her to stay more than anything. Ugh my heart. Look at him. Hands in his pockets. Being a little awko taco. Hoping against hope she will say yes. The only way he could be more transparent is if he wore a 'I love and miss Lucy.' sign. Holy cow. If you had any lingering doubts after last week this should obliterate that.

Lucy is stunned by his offer. Stands up right away with her 'Oh.' You can see she has to fight that magnetic pull of theirs. That need to be around him and stay. Melissa plays it so well. Fighting that urge. Knowing if she stays where it’ll end. Most likely in his bed... She can’t risk that. Can't risk hurting her heart like that again. Even though that same heart is dying to stay, her brain helps her bolt. Her nervous chuckle as she tells him no. Stumbling over her words to make a quick exit. Leaving both her boys behind. This hurt so good. Oh my lord. I am here for the slow burn everyone. I've said this many times. To get back to the summit that is them together it's going to take time.

When we do it's going to be so worth it. The delayed gratification will be unreal. We have to remember it's been FOUR episodes. Just four. I'm feeling no impatience at this point. This is going to be a lovely climb back to them. They can give me little moments like this as they make their way back all they want. I'm here for it and grateful to have them. I couldn’t be prouder of Tim for going for it though. Being the first to put himself out there again this second round. Just like he did in S5. Showing her he misses her with this offer. Testing their grounds by doing so. Think he could tell she wanted to. But wasn't surprised when she said no.

Goodness this made me giddy af. Also that man is a snack in that shirt. So she is strong to walk away from him. She all but runs when he is soft with her. Can’t say I blame her. Right now that way lies hurt. Also they need to have a real convo first. But hot damn I’m excited he went for it. Not once but twice. Saying he missed her inadvertently then asking her to stay. Ooooh I’m excited you guys! If you aren't I can't help you I really can't LOL Reaching down to pat the good boy with a sigh. His wingman really tried. Swing and a miss Timothy. But proud of you for giving it a go. I cannot wait till next week

Thank you x1000 to everyone who interacts with these. With your likes, comments and reblogs. They make my whole day every time a notification comes in. Biggest smile on my face. You're all the best. See you all in 7x05 :)

~~~

Side notes-Non Chenford

'How secure you are in your marriage.' I’ve been saying that since Wes heard the tapes. Oh Wes, what happens when you marry a beautiful, strong and independent woman.

'Being a woman is consistently terrifying.' If that isn’t the truth…. Line of the season for Angela right there.

The Sorority girls kicking the shit out of that guy was incredible. When I saw the blood on the floor I was worried. Then to see all those woman kicking, punching and stabbing that dude. Was epic. Angela telling them they have her recommendation if they ever was join the LAPD LOL

I wanna cry for Wes with this SL. Letting a killer back onto the streets. Doing his job or not that weighs on a person. Their psyche and conscience. He gave me such anxiety as he raced the the scene. Gah just breaking my heart when Angela checks in on him. Well done Shawn for this gif above. We don't get to see him flaunt his chops a whole lot and I'm happy to see they gave him the chance. He was fantastic in this ep.

Bailey took the phone number and let him go. Props my friend. More balls than your husband. When it comes to people I love I get very gray. I'm all about black and white like Tim but also like Tim, when its someone I love those start to blur to protect them. So kinda don't blame her for taking the insurance of his number.

Locking her away isn’t the answer my dude. It’s insulting to think she can’t handle herself if I was her. Be better to be together and tackle it as a team. But that’s just me.

‘You’re a grown ass woman not baby sitting you.’ Wade Grey I adore you sir.

Nyla being on her own making my heart palpitate. It felt very last of us if you’ve ever played that game and know the stress of it lol It was good but also anxiety inducing.

Loved the Nyla and Lopez hug I love it. Always happy to see this bad ass duo together.

7x05 looks good with the serial killer SL. Have a WILD theory of maybe it being Seth? I highly doubt it is. But dude be sus af right now. If that was true could bring up PTSD for Lucy with Caleb and all that. But that's a crazy road to go down. But had to get it off my chest on the off chance he ends up being involved somehow.

[maybege]

What If - Part 4

Summary: Mandalore approached and you cannot help but feel like something is about to go terribly wrong.  

Pairing: alpha!Paz Vizsla x omega!fem!Reader

Wordcount: 6.2k | Rating: E (18+ only!)

Warnings: A/B/O dynamics, explicit sexual content, size kink (Paz is big-big), (semi-)public sex, oral sex (m receiving), unprotected sex, creampies, knotting, cockwarming, dirty talk, praise kink, Angst with a capital A, fluffy fluf

As we say in German “Was lange wärht, wird endlich gut” which is what I am using as my excuse for why this took so long. The truth is: depression is a bitch, real life is a bitch and creativity and time for writing are like the same side of two magnets that do not want to even go near each other. Anyway, we made it!!!

There are a few people I gotta thank for this. First and foremost the iconic, the brilliant @mostly-megan who not only suffers through all the random AU ideas I have (and there are a LOT of them) but also brainstorms with me. The Ragnar Scene and also a very (very!) lovely scene towards the end of this part would not exist without her and for that, I am very grateful. Then, of course, the ever-present, ever-lurking genius that is the Boba Tea Anon who is in the Paz trenches right there with me and encourages me in everything I do (even if it is just a – I promise one day I will do a Lord Huron Paz piece!). Also, a very special shout out to Neyo (@galacticgraffiti) who gave the Mando kids their names, suffers through The Horn Knee with me and is always there to cheer me on. And then, of course, all you Paz girlies (gn) who make me feel like a sane person while I ramble about a faceless man who appeared for a total of 23 minutes (if that) and is – canonically – dead anyway. You make sharing my writing worthwhile in the first place and I will be forever grateful for getting to share my writing with you.

And with that – on to the last part (and the new canon for me lol). Please let me know what you thought in a comment or a reblog!

masterlist | crossposted on AO3

There was a certain impatience to him you had not expected at the last meal. When the announcement came that you were approaching Mandalore, Paz – who had spent the dinner between you and Ragnar – had pulled you into his lap, his arms like iron around your body. Ragnar had wandered off to the front with all the other foundlings, expectantly looking up at the clan leaders.

You had turned your face into Paz’s neck, trying to get his scent on you. You could not believe how you had only known this man for a few days – a week, at most! – and yet his scent was the only thing that seemed to calm you down. And it was no different for him.

The alpha’s hand immediately found your scent gland and you shivered as the soft leather brushed over your skin. It did not take long until he pulled his gloves off, settling them into your lap, before resuming his motions.

The nervous energy in the room was palpable but it was practically radiating off him and it inevitably affected you as well. Where you had been excited, if a bit reluctant, a few weeks ago at the prospect of reclaiming Mandalore, now there was only a strange sense of dread in your stomach. One that even the alpha could not dissolve.

“When you wake up tomorrow, some of us will set foot on our homeland for the first time in too many years,” Briggs announced, his serious gaze roaming over the packed hall, “I cannot promise you it will be easy. I cannot promise we will all wake up to the sight of Mandalore. But we will die trying.”

You could see Ragnar looking back at his father who tilted his head. A gesture meant to be reassuring but only resulted in you questioning whether Paz would be one of those dying. You shifted nervously, causing Paz to tighten his hold on your waist.

“Calm down, love,” he rumbled quietly behind you, “It will be alright.”

Forcing yourself to nod, you gripped his large hand tightly, trying to burn into your brain what it was like to touch him,

“Rest well and rest assured that tomorrow will mark the start of a brand new era,” Briggs raised his glass, “And let us toast to our home!”

“To our home!”

Everyone lifted their glasses and the conversations resumed, a constant background roar that reminded you of the countless fates that were tied to the success of this mission. A strange feeling started in your chest, and not the kind that Paz’s presence usually caused.

You shifted again, watching as the crowd dissipated and the foundlings were walked off to bed. Their excited chatter moved down the hall and something cold clenched your heart when you watched Ragnar wave at his father.

Immediately everything quieted down. With everyone returning to their own conversations and the hall being considerably more empty now, Paz did not waste any time. His hands landed on your thighs and you managed a wobbly smile.

 “What is going on in your pretty head?” he asked you, his fingers skimming over your thighs, “You’ve been squirmy all evening.”

“Who says something is on my mind?”, you popped a berry into your mouth, grimacing at the sudden sour taste.

“True,” he laughed, “You might have just spent dinner thinking about when you can finally sit on my cock again.”

“Paz!” you gasped, “you cannot – I mean – what if –“ You glanced around with flushed cheeks, relieved to see that no one had seemed to hear his indecent theory.

He laughed again and the sound made your heart and body melt. “I will never tire of making you flustered,” he murmured, his big hands pulling you closer, “Though I actually would not mind having you cockwarm me tonight, sweet omega,” his fingers brushed the underside of your breasts and you shivered, “I would be lying if I said I could ever get enough of you.”

“I actually had something similar in mind,” you admitted shyly, slipping off his lap and enjoying the way his hands followed you and his body leant into you. As if he wanted to keep touching you, as if he never wanted to let you go. Your heart skipped a beat and you smiled.

“I … would like to try something?”

He leant back, his legs spreading with the movement and your teeth dug into your bottom lip at the sight of the obvious bulge in his pants. “Oh yeah, omega, and what would that be?”

You made a few steps away, making sure that your robe (a dark blue, just like his armour) swished around your form as enticingly as possible. Paz’s head turned to follow your movement from your place in front of him to a chair in a dark alcove, dressed in shadows where you knelt down right in front of it.

The big alapha hummed, rising to his feet, knowing exactly what it was you had in mind. “I think I can get behind that idea.”

From the other sounds that were floating through the cantina, you knew that illicit things were already well underway. Most of them likely more graphic and adventurous than what you had in mind. Still, you felt a little nervous at the prospect of sucking Paz Vizsla’s cock.

But for some reason, this was exactly what you needed. You wanted to bring him pleasure, so much pleasure.

You watched as he pulled off his cape, folding it expertly before motioning for you to stand. He dropped it on the floor, his hand steadying your elbow as you sunk down on the soft fabric. “Don’t want you uncomfortable,” he announced, before sitting down in the chair.

He looked big like this, bigger than usual. And oh so confident it already made your panties wet. His knees spread, the trunks he called thigh caging you in and you watched with bated breath as his fingers undid his codpiece, expertly freeing his cock.

He was already hard and dripping precome, the knot at the base slightly inflated and you squeezed your thighs. It was not like you had never seen his cock before and it certainly was not as if he had not fucked you before. Yet, the sheer size of him and the thought of taking him in your mouth overwhelmed you a little.

Where were you supposed to start?

But when one big rough hand closed around his shaft and Paz started to jerk off right in front of you, you could not help but to simply … dive in.

Opening your mouth as far as it would go, you closed your lips around his tip, one hand struggling to fit around him. The grunt he let out, paired with a twitch of his hips, had you smiling around him.

“Stars above,” he cursed, “Warn a man next time, won’t you, love?”

You looked up at him, teary-eyed, while your tongue licked the underside of him. Or at least the part you could reach. He was heavy in your mouth, heavy and big and he tasted of something that made you want more. Slowly, you moved forward trying to take more of him but soon enough, he bumped something at the back of your throat and you sputtered.

Before you could panic about breathing, Paz had pulled out of you, his large hand cupping your cheek while the other was still wrapped around the base of his cock. “Deep breaths, omega,” he soothed you, his hand leisurely stroking himself, “You are doing so good for, trying to take it all.”

“You’re so big,” you marvelled, wrapping your hands around him, “I want it all, alpha, I – Paz, I really want it all.”

“Want my help?” he asked, “Might have to be a little rougher, though, sweet omega, and I can smell how much that turns you on but I need you to tell me – Are you sure?”

You nodded eagerly, darting your tongue out to lick at him. “I am sure, alpha,” you murmured, pressing a kiss to the tip, “I promise.”

“If it is too much, tap my thigh three times, understood?”

You nodded again, shifting on your makeshift pillowed. Your thighs were already drenched at this point and you wondered whether you could come just from sucking him off. It seemed like you would be able to do a lot of things when it came to Paz.

His grip on your face loosened just the tiniest bit. “Open up for me,” he ordered, pulling your face towards him, “There we fucking go. Gorgeous.”

“I will never tire of this sight,” he groaned, “You struggling to take my size, trying to be so good for me,” he shifted, his hips surging forward and you smiled with pride when you did not gag this time, “Can I go deeper, love? Is that okay?”

With your position between his legs, your jaw wide open around him, you could not really nod. But Paz seemed to recognize the excited twinkle in your eye because you could hear the grin in his voice when he muttered a “Stars, you’re perfect.”

You took great care to keep your breathing even and through your nose, experimentally swirling your tongue around him every time he pulled out of your mouth. His thrusts grew heavier, his hold on you tighter and you swore you were this close to coming just from the sheer sight of his shaft covered in the sheen of you.

It was not long before he came in thick spurts on your tongue. You struggled to swallow it all, your throat working overtime as you did your best to swallow around him. “Good girl,” he praised you, “My good fucking girl.”

Your heart jumped in your chest as you licked him clean, not quite ready to let go of this intimacy.

His hand came to your chin, gently scooping up some of the come that had spilt from your lips. “Here you go,” he offered his coated thumb and you sucked the digit into your mouth without hesitation. You could never get enough of his taste.

“Let’s retire for the night, love,” he suggested, “We have a long day ahead of us.”

*

By the time you got settled in your bunk, you knew it was only a few hours before everything would start. Before you had to say goodbye.

Paz had excused himself, leaving you to get ready for bed alone before he appeared by your side, dressed completely in his armour.

“Are you okay?”

“Said goodbye to Ragnar,” he explained, sitting down on the little cot, hunching his shoulders over so he would not hit his head.

“Oh.”

Somewhere behind the curtains, someone snored.

Paz grunted when he laid down, his giant arm reaching out and pulling your back to his front.

“Is this okay?” you asked quietly, “It’s a tight fit.”

“It’ll be okay,” he murmured, grunting when he pulled the curtain closed, “I will not spend my last night without my calmer.”

“Aren't you uncomfortable?” you asked, your voice small, “With – with the armours and me and all the …”

“I will not spend my last night without my calmer,” he repeated, leaving no room for doubt. It took a bit of shuffling to turn you around but when you finally were facing him, you already felt much better. You tucked your face into his neck, breathing in his scent as he wrapped both arms around you.

Your heart was squeezing so hard in your chest that the emotional pain became physical.

What if this was his last night? What if you would never see him again?

And what if you did? Would it ever be like this again? Would he want to keep you as his calmer (or more?) when Mandalore was finally reclaimed?

Paz shifted, his large hands running over your back until one settled at the back of your neck.

“I got you,” he rumbled, “You’ll be safe, omega, I promise.”

You swallowed away the need to tell him that it wasn’t your safety you were worried about.

 *

The next morning was worse. It barely qualified as morning and you were sure you had not found any sleep. You had just been shifting all night from side to side, desperately burying your nose in his neck to soak up every little bit of his scent that he could give you.

You were not sure if Paz had slept either but when the alarms sounded in the room at the same time, it took him a minute to get up. Everyone was shuffling around the packed room silently, most of them already dressed and armoured. Ready to descend to the surface of Mandalore.

Despair was clawing at your insides. You felt like you were watching something from the outside that you knew would fail. That you knew would destroy everything you held close to your heart.

And yet, you watched helplessly as they lined up, preparing to board the ship that would take them into the atmosphere.

It was silent – eerie – as if everyone knew something big was about to happen. And you couldn’t move from his side. You couldn’t even if you wanted to. You needed to be here with him.

You watched as Paz double-checked his weapons and your mouth quirked up as you remembered how the man had seemed like a weapon on his own the very first time you had seen him. And how true it was, now that you saw guns and rifles packed to every piece of his armour that could carry it.

Your smile fell just as quickly as it had appeared. Would this be the last time you got to see him?

You had been scared a lot of times in your life. Like when your parents had taught you how to swim and you had been convinced you would sink to the bottom of the sea. Or when you had taken a bad fall in one of the hiding places and scuffed your knee. But that childish fear of creatures and heights was nothing compared to the existential dread that settled in your stomach.

It wasn’t fear that something could go wrong it was fear that you knew something was going to go wrong.

And could you really risk this?

“You, uh, you will come back, right?” you whispered, already hating how needy you sounded. But you needed to hear him say it. You needed Paz Vizsla’s words to be the ones to tie you to the hope of a future together.

“Someone already scared for me?” Paz tilted his head and while you knew this was supposed to be a joke, his voice did not sound very light. Like he knew it too. That feeling.

“Well, I mean you have Ragnar,” you shrugged, pulling the cloak closer around you, “And I mean your tribe needs you, you are a great warrior and –“

“Exactly,” he interrupted you gently. You watched as he approached you, his steps heavy and measured and you swallowed. “I am a great warrior,” he repeated with his fingers under your chin, tilting your head up to look at him, “Which is why I will come back to you.”

“But –“

“Listen to me,” he whispered, his hand cupping the side of your neck, scenting you so gently your eyes fluttered close, “I vow to the stars, I will come back to you, love.”

That was the last thing he said to you before he boarded the ship.

*

If somebody asked you what happened during the time you were waiting, you would not be able to tell them. As soon as Paz embarked on the with the scouting group, it felt like time stood still. You barely knew what you were doing. You were pacing the entire length of the ship it seemed, Ragnar keeping you company for a few of those pacing trips before he distracted himself by playing with the other foundlings.

You tried to approach your feelings rationally. You had spent a lot of your time these past few days in close proximity with Paz. He was an alpha, you were an omega, obviously there were some biological components that could have contributed to your feelings for him.

But that was exactly it. Your feelings …

At the thought of Paz not coming back, it felt like your heart ripped into two. You could not fathom a world without him in it and, more importantly perhaps, you could not fathom your life without him in it. You wanted him to come back and when all the tribes settled in their parts of Mandalore, you wanted to be as close to him as now. You wanted to spend your evening with him and Ragnar and you wanted to know what his days were like, what his role was in his clan.

Whether he wanted to keep you in his life as well.

Waiting was pure torture. Communications were cut and all that remained was the cold silence of the ship. You avoided the cockpit and strategy meetings, Briggs (thankfully) seemed to understand your reluctance and did not press you on the matter. Until Axe Woves came to warn the ship of the Imperial that had settled on the planet and the fight that had broken loose.

That was the meeting you had insisted on attending, hoping that – in whatever capacity – the stoic alpha might drop some comments about the people on the surface.

“Is,” you swallowed, “Is he well?”

The beskar-clad man, much to your frustration, said nothing at all.

Which was not very helpful.

The fight continued and troops were dispatched and you stayed, keeping the foundlings safe and quiet. In fitful dreams, you heard yourself confessing your love to him just before he disappeared never to return again. You woke up with cold sweats until you crawled into his bunk, pressing your nose into his pillow and willing yourself to think of a future in which he came back to you unharmed.

Sometimes, you could hear Sluice and Chants converse about what to do if it all failed. Whether to settle back in Nevarro was another possibility or if the tribes should stick together to find a new home.

All you could think was that you would not leave Paz on this planet.

You could not leave him.

It was morning when the announcement came. You had buried yourself in his cot, his sheets pressed to your nose as you took trembling breaths when the PA system stuttered to life, the mechanical voice echoing through the empty hallways.

You had retaken Mandalore. The air was breathable and you could safely land on the surface to meet the victorious troops.

The joy and excitement that spread through your entire body could not be described. Nothing could happen to wipe the smile off your face as you frantically searched for the one good dress you wanted to wear when you saw Paz again. You wanted to please him and kiss him and tell him you loved him. And maybe, if you were very lucky, he loved you too.

Stars, how you hoped he would.

But that elation stopped short when you set foot onto Mandalore. You could not even look at the surrounding landscapes, the fallen home of your ancestors – when you spotted the group but no Paz. A quick glance around did not reveal him either and suddenly the feeling of dread was back again.

Briggs was standing there too, and you knew the man long enough that when you saw his eyes getting glassy at your sight, he did not need to say anything anymore for the tears to fall.

This was it then.

You always wondered what it would feel like to live with a broken heart. Now you knew.

The pain in your heart was unbearable and you suddenly wished that you had never left the bunk this morning. That you were still curled up in his scent and his blankets without the knowledge that the alpha you wanted to spend your life with was dead.

“Where is my buir?” Ragnar asked somewhere behind you and you could hear it in his voice. How he tried to sound strong but he was just a child. A child without his father.

He made his way to the front and stopped by your side. You put your hands on his shoulder.

“I am sure he will be fine,” you assured him, not believing your own words, “He – he must have … another mission somewhere, right?” you looked to Axe Woves who avoided your gaze, “Right?”

Ragnar grabbed your hand. “Bu said if he is late, I need to distract you.”

“What? Why?”

“Because we're family,” he said it so effortlessly, “and because I know he will come back but you might worry and you shouldn’t worry.”

You were not sure what happened first: the stopping of your heart or the break in your breath. Paz told him you were his family? Ragnar considered you … his family?

“Do you wanna play a board game?” the boy asked and the breath rushed back into your lungs, “Bu taught me a few games for when I wait for him to come back.”

“He did?” you asked, your voice faint as you followed him back to where someone had set up a small open-air cantina at the ramp of the ship. You ignored the looks Briggs and Chants gave you. Ignored the way that Bo Katan bowed her head as if to pay respect to you as if you had something to mourn.

Not now, you told yourself as your heart cracked in your chest. Maybe tomorrow you could bury yourself in Paz’s bunk, breathing in his scent until there was nothing left but your own grief.

Tomorrow, you promised yourself, Tomorrow I will know he is dead.

*

The sun was setting over the mountains and Ragnar made no sign of stopping the game anytime soon. He had patiently explained the elaborate card game to you before dealing the cards. And then he had continued to play with you the entire day. Sometimes, people joined you for a round or two. The first had been Din Djarin – the man with the green baby. He had not said anything but you could feel the sadness coming off him in waves.

Then there had been The Armourer who had stayed for only one round, occasionally speaking to Ragnar about his helmet ceremony (the first having been interrupted only a few weeks prior). She was followed by Sluice, Bo Katan and finally, Briggs.

“Mind if I join?” the older man had asked, only sitting down when you nodded.

“Not at all,” Ragnar spoke up, relieving you of the to find the energy, “Do you know the rules?”

Briggs had left after two rounds, his warm hand on your shoulder the only indication of what he had come here to say. My condolences for your loss.

The tears had burned hot in your eyes but you forced yourself to keep playing. Ragnar won most rounds and the one he did not, you were fairly sure he lost on purpose. “No worries,” he assured you with childish wisdom, “Sometimes it takes a little longer to get the rules.”

“That is okay,” you forced yourself to smile, “How about we take a break for some food?”

“Good idea!” the boy jumped up, “I will get some of the berries and you stay here and watch the cards!”

Before you could protest, he had raced to the small buffet table.

You both welcomed and feared the moment of solitude this afforded you. It allowed you to take a deep breath, to let your shoulders and your guard fall. Maybe even a few tears if you were quick about it. You did not want Ragner to see you like this. He seemed to be determined that his father was alive and well – that he would return – that you could not bear to be the one to break his heart.

“Bu!” Ragnar shouted and you whipped around immediately. It took you a moment to find Ragnar but when you did, he had his arms wrapped around the legs of a large man. A man dressed in dark blue armour.

 “Paz,” you sighed, feeling tons lighter. Ragnar threw himself at his father who caught him though you did not fail to notice the way his legs almost buckled.

Stars he was hurt.

A new wave of panic washed over you and you did not realise you had stood up until the stoll toppled behind you. Several pairs of eyes were on you but you only cared about one.

Paz set Ragnar down and whispered something to him. You watched as the boy nodded, skipping off to Din and the Armourer. And then Paz walked towards you. Though walk seemed too weak a word for the way his heavy steps came closer and closer, his looming figure soon right in front of you.

Paz was right in front of you.

“You,” he growled, taking your hand without slowing his stride, “Come with me.”

“Paz, what happened?” you asked, trying to look him over, “Are you hurt? Did – Were those Imperials we spotted on the radar? Axe Woves and Briggs and – oh stars, we need to get you checked out and wait – are you bleeding? Where does it hurt maybe I can –“

A door swished open and you glanced around in confusion. This was not the infirmary. This was not even a proper room if the cleaning supplies on the shelves were anything to go by.

“Paz, you need – oh!” your hands gripped his shoulders tightly when he lifted you onto a surface. Was it a table? A counter? Stars, you could not bring yourself to care. Not when he was standing in front of you, panting like he had the fight of his life behind him.

Which he probably did.

Your heart clenched again, from fear or joy you could not tell.

His large hand fiddled with your dress and with a rip, your entire front piece was hanging off you in tatters.

“Alpha,” you cried, moving your hands from his shoulders to his chest, “Alpha, are you all right? I was so worried.”

The big man stepped between your open legs and you took a deep breath. The smell of adrenaline burned your nose but you could not help but notice the arousal that was in the air as well. He was angry and determined and the way he did not even look at his hands when he tugged on his belt made you glad you were already sitting down.

“Keep calling me that and I will be,” he grunted, opening the snaps of his armour and finally his fly.

Your eyes were fixated on his hand around his cock. “Pull down your dress,” he instructed instead, “I want to see your tits.”

You hurried to do so, almost ripping the fabric entirely in the process but you could not care less. Not when you had your dream of an alpha standing between your open legs, getting ready to fuck you. The ruined fabric pooled around your hips and the cool air made your nipple pebble. But then Paz was right there, the bulk of his body between yours and you could feel his cock against the inside of your thigh.

He pushed the tip of his cock against your folds, slowly circling your clit and you whimpered. Why did everything he did feel so good? “Ready?” he asked, spreading your wetness around and you found yourself wishing that you could see. That you could see how big he was against you, how his hand gripped himself, how his brows might furrow in determination and the set of his lips as he pushed inside you.

But you could not have everything in life. And for this moment, the feeling of his cock stretching your walls was enough. He was here, he was alive and he made you feel so stars forsaken good.

“Fuck,” you sighed, “Paz …”

“That’s good, huh?” he grumbled, slowly pulling out before pushing back in. You could feel your walls ease around him, your juices covering his shaft and the gland on your neck pulsed with the need to have him scent you.

He remained still for a few moments and you took a deep breath, breathing him in again and trying to get yourself to realize that he was alive. Your alpha was alive.

Paz started to move, then, and slowly pushed inside you again before building up a steady rhythm that had him deep, deep inside you. And all you could think, between bouts of pleasure, was that he was alive. Paz was alive.

“Fuck,” you whispered, your hand shaking as you gripped the edge of the table, overcome with emotion, “A-alpha, I was so scared. “

A particularly hard thrust had your hands fly around his neck. “I was protecting you,” he replied, his voice shaking, “You were never in any danger, omega, I would not allow it.”

“I wasn’t scared for me, you di’kut,” you cursed as you hastily wiped away the tears streaming down your face, “I was scared for you!”

Paz grunted at your admission, pushing inside you again and pulling you as close as he could with the armour in the way. “And I was scared of never seeing you again,” he confessed into the darkness between your faces, “That I was breaking my promise to you.”

“Wh-What,” you gasped, feeling his cock grow inside you, “Alpha, what is happening?”

“Oh fuck,” he grunted, “Sorry, ‘mega, sorry, I didn't mean to – oh shit, love, you gotta stop squeezing me.”

Easier said than done. In fact, it seemed impossible. Because as soon as you realized that it was his knot swelling inside of you, all you could think about was what it would be like to be knotted by him. Which turned you on beyond belief.

The mental image of him filling you up to the brim, the giant size of him staying inside you, made your walls flutter and your high approach so much faster. Paz’s movements did not stop and you could feel the ring at his base growing and growing, catching on your entrance with every thrust and making you yearn to keep him inside.

“Alpha, will you – Can you – oh!” he hit that spot inside you again that made your blood sing and you fell back against the wall, completely at his mercy.

And then the light went out.

Your body tensed with fright and you squeaked, thinking something had gone horribly wrong. But Paz did not seem deterred and you faintly remembered that the light switch was somewhere on his side of the room.

There was a sound you could not pinpoint, followed by a loud clatter and then his hand was at the back of your neck, pulling you to him and you squirmed at how he folded you in half, his cock still nestled deep inside you and then he was … kissing you.

You gasped, the feeling of his lips familiar against yours and everything you had dreamed of.

“Fuck it feels good to fill you up,” he murmured, the praise making your cheeks warm.

Your legs were still trembling around his hips and you tightened your hold around his neck. Your nose bumped against his scent gland. Add that to the feeling of his smile against your shoulder and even retaking Mandalore could never rival the feeling of being scented by him.

“That good, huh?” he teased you, his lips moving against your skin.

He had some stubble that tickled your sensitive skin and you gasped, the sensation opening you up even more.

And then he pushed inside you one last time as you came around him. The knot at his base swelled with no signs of stopping, locking you together as he filled you up. You shivered at the feeling of him twitching inside you, spurts of come filling you up in a way you had never experienced before, increasing the pressure inside you that made your walls clench. He continued to rut against you, causing your clit to rub against his pelvis again and again, prolonging your peak.

After what felt like an eternity, you came down from your high, relishing in the feeling of him still pulsing inside of you. It was strange, something you had never experienced before, but the closeness made you sigh contentedly against his lips.

Paz was quiet save for a few grunts, his hands grabbing your hips, keeping you as close as possible.

“I’ve never been knotted before,” you admitted between kisses.

“Really?” Paz asked, his mouth pausing on yours, “How does it feel?”

“It feels kinda nice, alpha,” you whispered, pulling his face closer to yours again.

Paz did not say anything for a moment, his laboured breath loud in the small room. Then his hands cupped your face and you could feel his eyes on you and you wondered if he was able to see you despite the darkness. Probably not, after all, it was his visor that usually enabled him to do so. But he made you feel seen with how his thumbs brushed over the apples of your cheeks, still wet with tear tracks or how his lips softly landed on yours.

“I don’t think I told you yet,” he said against your mouth, “But you are beautiful. To me, you are the – the most stunning omega I have ever seen. When I was down there – when I … I dreamt of what it would be like to see you with my own eyes.”

A flutter started in your chest. An awful flutter of hope that had you thinking of futures beyond the next few days. He could not mean what you thought he meant, right?

“But you helmet –“ you started, trying to rationalize away the hope in your voice.

But Paz had other plans. “I want to court you,” he said, sounding as determined as ever, “Stars, I want to properly court you, love, whatever that entails for your clan but I asked Briggs and –“

“What?”

“I wanted to make sure that I did everything right,” he explained, his hand warm on your back, “So I asked him about any customs I might have to know, that last night before we left and – and for a second there it looked like I would never get to ask you. But I can, love, I can ask you now. Will you let me court you, ‘mega? Will you let me spend the rest of my life with you and Ragnar and all the other foundlings the stars let us have?”

“You – you want children, too?” you asked, feeling like the breath was stolen out of your lungs, “M-more than Rganar, I mean?”

You could feel his smile against your neck, the tip of his nose buried in the valley beneath your ear. “Course I do,” he confirmed, “Ragnar is the biggest gift of my life, I won't say no to that joy again.”

A laugh bubbled up in your chest and you could feel your walls clench around him. Paz moaned, his cock twitching inside you. “Is that a yes, then?” he asked carefully, his hand wandering up to cup the back of your neck. He moved away from you,

“Yes,” you breathed out with the biggest smile on your face, “Yes, Paz.”

The scent that surrounded you made you euphoric and you realized that it had been Paz all along. That sweet scent that made your heart beat faster and a smile appear on your lips? Paz fucking Vizsla.

“Open your eyes, mesh’la,” he asked you quietly, his breath warm on your face, “Look at me, sweetheart.”

And you did. Your eyes blinked open and it took you both an eternity and a second to get your eyes used to the seemingly blinding light of the storage room. But then your eyes met his and you saw Paz Vizsla for the first time.

He had dark eyes, just like you had daydreamed, and his hair looked just as soft as it had always felt. It was matted to his forehead in places and he looked … exhausted, like he had not slept in days. There were bruises on his cheekbones and you could see some dried blood and dirt on his jaw. But all of that was overshadowed by the brightest, biggest grin on his face.

It made the corners of his eyes crinkle and you could not help but smile back, absolutely in awe of the man in front of you. What were you supposed to say the first time you saw the face of the man you had fallen hopelessly in love with?

“You are handsome,” is what you settled on finally, carefully brushing your fingertip over his crooked nose.

He huffed out a laugh, his eyes twinkling with mirth. “Thank you, my love,” he rumbled and your heart skipped a beat at him calling you his. Because you were, truly, whether you had realised it before or not, his.

“I love you,” you blurted out, feeling oddly shy.

“I love you too,” he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to your lips, “There is no version of this life in which I do not love you.”

“You will have to tell me about your scars,” you whispered, your eyes roaming over his face, catching on one that cut through his eyebrow, “Every single one.”

“I will,” he promised, kissing you again, “We have a lifetime for it.”

[rei-ismyname]

X-WOMEN highlights

X-women was a one shot released in 2010 with the explicit purpose of showing women in 'skimpy clothes' - at least according to the wiki which references a now dead Marvel URL. With Chris Claremont on words and Milo Manara on pencils, you can decide that one for yourselves. Implied SA content warning.

Believe it or not, there's several pages of other girls gone wild shit before the plot actually starts, with Rogue inheriting a villa in Greece (from who? Never mentioned.) Gal pals only, except for the gay dudes Kitty busta in on when phasing on a jetski.

Turns out they recognise her, lol. She's entering people's rooms on a cruise ship - it'd be more surprising to not see fucking. Ororo does Karaoke, nailing Proud Mary. Rachel sneaks off with that dude, but he shoots her and shit goes wild. 'I can't quite make sense of it' wild.

The cruise ship gets attacked so they flee and somehow end up in the dingy boat with Captain Dave. They notice they're depowered so Rogue takes the opportunity to touch someone - Ororo is happy to be that person. While platonic intimacy is wonderful, I'm going to label this 'pretty damn sapphic.'

The least believable bit is Storm wearing those jeans tbh.

Then that boat gets attacked too, and they're shipwrecked with the 'chief' who claims to be a God-King that can bring down planes. The tribe worship him and planes, which seems odd. I think they're all his wives now, but he takes special interest in Storm. Dude never gets a name, but he's creepy AF. I assume Captain Dave is dead.

Less favoured wives perform manual labour. Believe it or not, this explicitly rapey chief is not the bad guy of this tale. Rachel and Kitty's psychic rapport runs through the mini, something famously associated with platonic friends. There's some nonsense in the background about China and India doing ... something. War, maybe?

This whole 'trying to rape Ororo' scene goes on for quite a while, and the chief's main wife is jealous of her for the attention. Gross. Ororo beats him down a bunch but he does have some powers. She agrees to 'stop fighting' if her friends are released. Nope! He likes it. Again, this creep is not the bad guy in this narrative. What the fuck was CC thinking?

The real bad guys show up with guns and start shooting but the chief has fucking eye beams and some kind of telekinesis. Or magic, or maybe he really is a God. The X-Women, sigh, team up with him to take down the Baroness' troops. Baroness of where? Doesn't matter. I definitely hate aristocrats who try to steal my friends' brain juice but this jerk enslaved them.

The Baroness' plan has been developing off panel and is now ready. She tries to fire the 'weapon' which involves the psychics' cooperation, but Emma Frost (who is in this story!) says nah. The chief becomes a reasonable person all of a sudden and does ... something. Whatever it is it works and he releases the X-Women without incident, saying he'll miss Ororo. She tells him to pay attention to his main wife, who is surely a slave too? I have no idea - this was such a bad idea.

The Baroness can control mutant powers and tries to get away. Storm unloads on her with max weather and freezes her solid. Emma punches her and breaks a nail. 🙄 I don't think she could possibly survive this, so yay?

After all the bullshit, the girls realise they never truly got to frolic. They do so, yet the chief is there? He's literally chasing Ororo in the last panel and she doesn't look happy about it. Everyone else is partying so I don't think we're meant to worry, but I do. Let's pretend she murdered him. This was in 2010, and it's not like rape culture doesn't exist - but it's baffling that this was either missed or just approved. Wait, no it's not. Marvel is not great with anything like this, and middle aged white dude writers and editors could totally see this as unproblematic. Rogue is doing some Coyote Ugly shit, the others are grinding on each other, and Ororo is playing chasey with the rapist with 50 wives? 💩

[alwaysonf1]

lewis is doing what?

Pairing: Charles LeClerc x Hamilton!OC

Genre: Slice of Life; Fluff

Word Count: 3k

Warning: Changes in the timeline for the sake of the story.

Rating: PG-13

Author's Note: This is my first F1 fic, which makes me nervous so why not start with a series.

Many Drive to Survive haters like to pretend everything that comes from the show and what it’s about are beneath them. That they couldn’t possibly care, and that the only important thing is the race on Sunday. And yet the day after the latest season drops you can find them amongst the chaos trying to figure out what the hell were all those hints about a new form of content that F1 plans to release. 

Interwoven with the usual storylines and mild dramatics there was a lot of talk about how drivers show their families the support they’re given. How they show up for them in their careers and bits of their lives. It was weird at first, but then it sent off alarm bells when an almost fourth wall breaking moment happened where the Netflix team was blatantly dismissed. 

“I think we have this one Netflix, but thanks for the help.” Those were the exact words spoken by the head of marketing as she closed the door to a room where you get a glimpse of team paraphernalia but see no faces. 

Every social platform that you can find an F1 fan on has it trending and the conversations (and screams into the void) are fast paced. But Twitter is where the real unhinged and brain cell losing behavior is happening. 

And the most accurate guessing.

Almost everyone within the community is discussing what that snippet could mean. Is it the end of DTS as they know it? The end of it completely? Are F1 and Netflix severing ties? Will F1 be taking over? Is this some little game they're playing with their viewers to keep them tuned in? Is it something completely different? What the actual fuck is going on?

In the middle of those questions are those who think themselves a genius or are delusional enough that they can’t help but form some wild ideas of what’s to come.

Someone must be retiring. Multiple people are retiring. There’s going to be a reality show ala Keeping Up with the Verstappens, where everyone learns that Max’s little trauma dumpy memories with Jos are just the surface level of how insane that man is. Someone is getting married. Someone is getting married to another driver. A nepo baby is going to become the “voice of the fandom” and host a show about the drivers during race weekends and it’s going to be all the wrong things. A dating show for all the singles. A behind the scenes at the lives of drivers and their families, but like Family Feud. And the penultimate dude bro dream of them getting to spend the season hanging out with drivers and get confirmation that their toxic thoughts that alienate most of the fan base is true.

After about twenty-four hours it all dies down. Everyone is still wondering, but they don’t feel like they’re losing their minds while they try to be the one who can say they were right when they news drops.

As if timed, the second that F1 drops in trends the F1 admin drops a graphic with the faces of six people who are clearly positioned like the thinking face emoji on every platform that they use. In the captions it says: Week in the Life - Sibling Edition.

If Twitter was home to the first wave of screaming, it belongs to Tumblr the second go round. Everyone is so excited for the content that someone must have thrown up from how aggressively happy they feel. Everyone is talking about who they want it to be and what content they’d love to see from which sibling. Those who make gifs are especially excited to get everything they can, though they won’t be outdone by those whose brains and fingers will be entities on their own once they get hold of a singular moment that will inspire the fic of everyone’s dreams.

Those who always have something negative to say are there as usual, but they aren’t as loud or upset as they often are. Being nosy doesn’t stop just because you want to pretend that you only care about the race, as if someone doesn’t have a file of screenshots from all the times, they’ve attacked the character of a driver for something not race related at all.

The reaction to this is the kind that instills faith in what is being done. The kind of thing that tells all the upper management who didn’t like it that it was a good idea, but also puts a certain bit of weight on the content team. They need this to deliver. Need to keep the hype, especially since the first episode doesn’t drop until the start of December and they’ve already recorded half the series so a failure could stop the rest.

So once the Singapore GP ends, Daniel Ricciardo’s face is no longer gray. You get to see that goofy smile and wink. You’d think they told everyone he was getting a permanent seat with a three year contract with the reception to it.

It’s Charles Leclerc for Japan. 

Lance Stroll for Qatar.

Carlos Sainz for COTA.

Alex Albon for Mexico.

And coming off his first P1 of the season, Lewis Hamilton for Brazil.

For the next week or so if a tweet isn’t about excitement, disdain, or shock in regard to this new F1 exclusive content, it has a certain main character at its center.