#I tried on the third slide here but it did not look very good so I put it back :|

[chiropteracupola]

lhqr outfit musings... (underlayers, everyday outfits, performance / out on the town outfits)

[novashelby]

Forgive Me-Tommy Shelby Smut

Pairing: TommyxReader(third person)

Word count: 2k-ish

Summary: Tommy Shelby is attracted to his attorney's daughter, and decides to corrupt her little nun brain at work.

Prompt: "What makes you think I am going to fuck you?"

Warning: Degrading language, non-con, Dubcon, oral(m), religious banter.

@darlingsfandom

“Y’know,” Tommy said, weaving himself through the wooden pews. It was a rare occasion that he was in church as he and God didn’t talk very much. If not, at all. You see, they weren’t on the best of terms. But he could admit that. He had no shame in his religious affiliations, or lack of. But her? Looking at her kneeling in the novice robes with her hands folded was laughable, at best. Tommy pointed his finger at her, wiggling it. “This, honestly…Love, why?”

She’d been trying hard to focus on her prayer for the last thirty minutes, knelt down, hands folded. Stiffening, she rolled her eyes up and let out a long sigh of frustration. Perhaps she was a little wild in her teen years, but what did he know of any of it? He was just her father’s client. Her father was an attorney, a big wig one in London. However, she hardly ever associated with him. And the only times she ever spoke with Mr. Thomas Shelby was when she was required to go to dinner parties and he just so happened to be there. “Mr. Shelby,” she greeted, though he’d been circling the pews for quite some time.

Finally he made it to hers, sliding in and kneeling right next to her. When his elbow caressed her arm, she flinched away, giving him a wild look. Amused, he asked, “oh, sorry, is that a sin these days? I mean, you are a messenger of God…know all his updated terms of services, eh?”

Getting up, she looked down at him.  “Instead of saundering within the pews, perhaps you should head to confession, Mr. Shelby. I can direct you, if you’d like? Or….” She leaned in, a snarky grin playing on her face. “I can give you the fast pass to hell, surely the Devil can’t wait to meet his biggest fan from Birmingham, eh?” It was the mockery for him. The little teasing infliction of her voice. Eh. He reached up to grip her cheeks, but she turned away before he could. Tommy got up and followed her, and when she heard the click of his lighter, she stopped. “There is no smoking allowed in the church, Thomas. Put it out.”

The cigarette rested between his fingers. “Do the rules still apply to nonbelievers?”

“If you are such a nonbeliever,” she said, turning on her heels. “Then you’d best find better company elsewhere.” Instead of leaving, he sat on the priest’s velvet chair on the altar. He leaned back, crossing his legs as if it was his lounge chair. Luckily for her, she was the only one in the church besides a few custodians. 

“What would your father say,” he said, pointing at her with a cigarette, giving her a knowing look. “Being so disrespectful to his client. To an older person. To a man.”

“He’d say nothing,” she quipped, gathering her bag with her notes and bible. Some of her hair had been peeking through her white veil. Tommy pushed off the chair and walked over, grabbing her arm. Flinching, she pushed him off, a nasty glare on her face. “Don’t touch me-”

“C’mere,” he said, regaining his grip and pulling her in. “You’re being immodest,” he said, a teasing glint in his eyes as he poked the loose strands back under the veil. People were weak under him. Once they were trapped by his little games, it was hard to push away. And she was no different, so small under him. Like the good girl she was meant to be, she stayed in place. “You see,” he started, words muffled slightly from the smoke perched between his lips. “I don’t think this is all you. I think…I think you are here just to be a little fuckin’ brat-”

“Mr. Shelby,” she interjected. “If you don’t mind, I have to get to study.”

When she tried to move from him, he gripped tighter. “I do mind, actually.” Yes, it was true, she had a wild era once in her teens. But it stopped at dancing and drinking. Never had she ever broken the seal. The church was safe. It was to keep her safe, and never had she considered the scenario where a man had her trapped. Mr. Shelby of all men. The small of her back pressed against the side of a wooden pew, digging into her body. The edge felt sharp, even through her thick robes. “I quite like your company. I find it…redeeming? As if my soul is just cleansing being in your presence.”

“You’re mocking me,” she said in a mere whisper, their eyes connecting.

“No,” he said, sarcastically while his knee pressed between her legs. “It’s true. Forgive me, I’m just thinking….” He paused, words trailing off. “Just how much you can save me.”

“I’ll pray for you,” she said, pushing at his chest, but he was just too strong for her.

Grinning, he leaned in, forehead resting against hers. “And how do you pray? On your knees? Hmmm…that’s a good idea. You’ll pray for me, right here. On your knees. Go on, be a good little girl and get on your knees.” He stepped back and waited. His face said it all…don’t try to move. Without breaking eye contact, she slid to her knees. A nun, sure, but she knew enough about life to understand what he wanted. “What do you think you should do?” he asked, all emotion leaving his voice. Her hands reached up to his trousers, closing her eyes. To his amusement, her fingers fumbled with the belt loop, struggling. “I guess those wild years did you no good. Or are you just out of practice? C’mon.” He took over, undoing the metal clasp on his belt and unzipping his trousers.

Eyes squeezed shut, chin quivering, she sobbed. “Mr. Shelby, please-”

“It’s coming, love,” he chuckled, flicking her forehead. “Take it out.”

“You don’t understand,” she said, pleading, tears streaming down her face. “I could lose my apprenticeship!”

“Then Mr. Shelby will give you a better one,” he said, grabbing her hand and placing it against his hardening cock. “Take it out, go on. Do your job.” She couldn’t look at him while doing it; pulling the waistband of his underwear down by the hooks of her fingers. Her fingers gently caressed the cock before it came out, displayed in front of her. Gently, he lifted her chin. “Open your eyes.” Her eyes fluttered open, averting her glance from his cock. Tommy laughed, and teased, “looks like you don’t wanna be here. Come on now, put a smile on that pretty face.” He pulled the sides of her trembling lips and forced a smile upon her face. “There we go, all happy to take your father’s cock.” The words were enough to send a chill up her spine, nevermind his throbbing cock lightly teasing at her lips. Releasing her lips, he snaked his hand around her head and grabbed her hair through her veil. “That’s what you call your priest, right? Haha, Father Shelby….Fuckin’ ‘ell. Never in my life….” 

“I’ll do it,” she agreed in a whisper. Just please stop taunting me. 

“I know you will,” he said, his other hand rubbing her cheek. What he did next took her by surprise; pulling her head back and a ball of spit forming at his lips. He spit in her face. “Cause I know and you know that deep, deep down you are a dirty fuckin’ girl that craves a cock buried in her holes.” She nodded to please him, repeating that she was a dirty girl and that she wanted his cock in one of her holes. The spit was running down her cheek, dripping to her dress leaving a wet streak. 

“Ahhh,” she moaned, opening her mouth wide and sticking her tongue out. He commented how no true good girl knows how to display her mouth so pretty. Leaning in, she took the tip first; kissing, sucking with a pop. Salty and feeling like sin, his precum rested on her tongue. Deeper he had told her, hands resting on the back of her head, pressing her lightly.

His hips jerked and twitched slightly as he cursed. “Shit,” he hissed, fingers digging into the veil. “C’mon, you can take daddy in more. I know you can…Fuck, baby. How dare you try to hide this mouth from me.” Nervously, she choked and tried to back away before taking him in a little more; tongue swirling around his length. 

With a free hand, she wrapped her fingers around the base of his cock and pumped while her tongue worked the tip. Removing him from her mouth, she slid her lips in an array of kisses and licks around the shaft before taking him in again, sucking up and down, drool dripping from her bottom lip. Tommy closed his eyes, gently rocking his hips into her, head thrown back. Fuck he hissed, enjoying how her mouth was so warm and wet around him. It took all his strength not to pick her up and throw her over the altar. No, no…he couldn’t be that disrespectful. “Fuck, baby girl…You’re too good. You’re so good for me. Look at you…being such a whore for the Devil of Birmingham.” She hated to admit it, but it was getting to her; his hands, his words, his cock. Her legs were trembling with need, and it made her feel ashamed. Sucking his cock, she moaned at his degrading, taunting banter.  “Faster, whore….C’mon, take your daddy deeper.” He pushed in more. The poor girl choked as it hit the back of her throat, but he loved that. It was the best feeling; dominating a cunt’s throat. The way it would make their throat burn. It certainly made hers burn in agony, but she wanted to make him happy. He paused, thumb wiping away tears from under her eyes, giving her a moment's beak. Then, to his surprise, it was her who started bobbing her head again, looking up at him with doe-like eyes. 

Tommy didn’t break eye contact, enjoying it as some form of submission. Bobbing her head faster, her moans matched the speed. To keep him the way she wanted, she gripped his hips. “What a pretty girl,” he commented when she pulled back, allowing the pool of spit in her mouth to drip over his twitching dick. She smiled up at him, lips puffy and abused, before sucking him back in; licking, sucking, swallowing. He helped her along, feeling his orgasm build up; bucking his hips forward, faster and with better rhythm. “Good girl, my good girl…fuck! You’re going to swallow it all for me, right?”

“Mmmhm,” she moaned, cock filling her mouth as she matched his speed.

“Daddy is going to fill all those fuckin’ holes,” he said mid high. “Every one, baby girl. You’re gonna drip his cum from your tight ass and daddy’s going to breed that tight fuckin’ cunt.” His words spilled out, and after a while, he was incoherent. His orgasm ripped through him, lacing the inside of her mouth with hot ropes of cum. “F-fuck,” he groaned, getting a few last pumps out while his eyes went hooded. Breaths jagged and uneven, he pulled away, gripping her chin. “Show daddy…ah, good fuckin’ girl. Swallow it.”

“Ahhh,” she moaned, mouth opened as if she was proud before swallowing it. It tasted salty and a bit sweet. Truthfully, perhaps a little vile, but it made her feel dirty. Tommy leaned down and pressed a kiss to her cocked ruined lips. “Thank you, sir.”

“I told you,” he said, teasing. “I know you are just a dirty little slut deep down. Now, are you going to go repent your dirty little sins or do you want to go for a ride with Mr. Shelby?” He tucked himself away and helped her up. “C’mon.” He answered for her, helping her out of the church and to his car. 

She looked up at him, and asked with a teasing glint in her eyes, “What makes you think I’m going to fuck you?” 

“We already established,” he started, pushing the wooden doors open. “You’re a dirty little girl.” 

[bumpkinspice0]

Know One Knows the Trouble, Honey, That We've Been Through 2/3

Logan Howlett/ Wolverine x Mutant!FemReader

Chapter Rating: Mature

Word Count: 5.6k

Summary: Your emotions start to settle and you get to know Logan a little more Warnings: Hangover? Negative self-talk, SEXUAL TENSION, pg-13 dirty talk, talk of past trauma/abuse

Series Masterlist

Part 1 Part 3

AO3 if you prefer to read there

_______

You always found it wasn’t the hangover that was the worst part after a night of drinking— it was the shame. A heavy groan rolls out of your lips, your achy shoulders leaning over the third cup of coffee that was forced on you. You’re still surprised you had the courage to leave your room at all. This isn’t the first time the X-men nursed you back to the land of living after a night of less-than-savory decisions, but you do hope it’s the last.

Thankfully, you hadn’t seen Logan all morning.

He drove you both home. He carried you to bed. You called him a fucking calendar boy. God, you had to be here for at least another week. How on earth are you going to get through this? Could you possibly avoid him for days? With enough dedication… Maybe. 

“You and Logan seem to have made up then?” Storm muses, taking a seat next to you at the kitchen counter. 

“We… went to Stevie’s,” You grumble into your coffee. 

“Of course you did,” She tries and fails to hide her smile. You’d drug Storm there plenty of times back in the day.

“I thought I’d be nice. Be The bigger person, ya know. Make peace. It was supposed to be one drink, Ororo,” You slump down to the counter, burying your face in your arms, “He carried me to my goddamn bed.”

“Did he now?” You hear the intrigue in her voice. 

“I called him a lumberjack. Or a firefighter or something. Scream-sang half the way home too I think.”

“Mmm,” she hums into her mug before taking a generous sip of coffee, “And did… anything else happen last night?”

You immediately shoot up, cheeks heating in an instant. Storm always loved the juicier gossip. 

“Nope!�� you blurt just a little too loudly, “Just shamefully being tucked in, unfortunately.” 

“Shame. I think he likes you.”

“Yeah… right,” You wheeze, “The professor made him my chaperone to the greenhouse yesterday, I got drunk on his dime, and on top of that I think I scratched up his bike when I knocked it over… with him on it.”

“Details, darling. Details.” She gets up to round the kitchen island, pulling out a cereal box and two bowls. “More importantly, what do you think of him?”

“Well, he wrecked the flowers you got me.” you bluntly point out. 

“A fact that I’m sure Jean is scolding him for this very moment,” she pours two bowls of Honeycombs, one heftier than the other, “He’s a difficult person, yes, but he’s trying to get better too. It took a lot of convincing from all of us when he first came here.”

Sounds like someone else that used to come here. You want to say it but the double meaning in her tone is clear.

You recall trying to run away at least twice when you first came to the X Mansion. It was scary, and you’d been in fight or flight mode for so long that you didn’t know how to react. Everything was always a matter of time at that point in your life. It seemed like everyone became an enemy, eventually. Every home was abandoned, eventually.  You would have run out of time eventually— if it wasn’t for Charles. 

“He’s not so bad on the eyes either though, is he?” Storm slides a near overflowing bowl to you, milk splashing over the sides. 

“Ro,” you pinch the bridge of your nose, trying to hide your smile more than anything. She was always so forward, “I think I said he could be in a calendar last night. Like the sexy calendars.”

“Ah, so the drunken confessions have gotten the ball rolling,” Storm slides back in next to you, “Other than his leg buckling good looks, what else do you think of him?” 

It’s still too early in this relationship to form a concrete opinion about him. He ruined your flowers and you got drunk with him. It’s not the best start to a friendship— but you’ve had worse. 

You think back to the hastily taken-off shoes next to your bed. An untouched glass of water on your nightstand you immediately downed. The crinkles around his eyes that deepened when he laughed at whatever you were rambling about back at the bar. An abandoned red flannel left around your shoulders when you woke up this morning…

He didn’t talk much, but he listened. He cared in his own tough guy way.

“I think… he’s nice.”

______________

You choose to work on the tunnels today, not ready to face the blinding sunlight outside. The max dose of ibuprofen and a steady supply of Gatorade were working overtime as you blast further into the rock. There was still at least half a mile to clear out and Hank wanted to get started on the wiring for the lights and ventilation as soon as possible. 

Ideally, you wouldn't be doing anything today. Drinking always took it out of you, but you couldn’t just loaf around the mansion nursing a hangover when you were hired to do a job. You didn’t even get in the tunnel until noon and after an hour of punching through bedrock, you’re already exhausted. 

You emerge from the tunnel back into the basement for a small break, soot already covering you despite your less-than-enthusiastic work effort. For once you didn’t want to bury yourself in your work— metaphorically at least. For the first time since you got here, you give yourself a chance to breathe. 

The sleek lower halls of the X-men haven’t changed. It looks the same, but it feels completely different— just like fucking everything lately. Nothing changed here, but you have. A place you were once so proud to be. Now… now you don’t know. 

But maybe you’re starting to come to terms with it— feeling comfortable, even. It’s okay that things change, literally everything does. That’s what moving forward is all about. 

Is that what you were doing? Moving forward?

You come to the display cases, everyone’s suits standing proudly on faceless mannequins. Suits of the current X-Men and the past. They still had yours, of course. A plaque that read ‘(Bull)Dozer’ rested at its feet. You wonder if it would still fit you. 

“Always wondered who wore that one.” A now familiar gruff voice pulls you out of your reminiscing. You turn and there he is, leaning against the adjacent wall, that blasted smirk on his face. 

He’s suited up, a fresh sheen of sweat marking his forehead and a faint smell of smoke lingering around him. He must have just come from the danger room.

You give your own smirk and give him a quick once-over, taking in the garish yellow that covered him from head to toe, “I didn’t expect yours to be so… Bright.”

“Goes with my eyes,” He teases, coming to stand next to you. You’re suddenly hyper-aware of how filthy you surely must be. You resist the urge to dust yourself off. There was no use, you were covered in dirt. “How you feeling today, darlin’?” 

The pet name shoots butterflies straight to your stomach. Either from embarrassment or… something else.

“Just fine.” You say as confidently as you can. 

“Didn’t expect you to be so… productive today.” He cocks an eyebrow. 

“Oh, I’ve been around the block a few times. I’m tough.”

“I’m sure you are.”

The air is suddenly suffocating and you’re not sure how much of it is in your head. You don’t dare bring up whatever you could have possibly said last night. You couldn’t just ignore it either. 

“I wanted to say… thanks… for last night,” you break the silence, “But also I’m sorry.”

“Sorry?”

“Sorry you had to play babysitter.”

“Ya know you’ve got a nasty habit of apologizing for things you shouldn’t be apologizing for.”

“Logan–”

“I had a good time last night,”  He cuts you off, going from a teasing tone to a more serious one. He means it. He wants you to know he means it, “Wasn’t the first time I had to carry someone to bed and it won’t be the last. I didn’t mind. You were pretty fun before that too. Play a mean game of pool.”

You’re not sure but you swear you see him wink.

You feel the rush to your cheeks again. Since when did you get so shy around shit like this? Maybe it was just him. Something about him had this effect on you. 

You goddamn teenager. 

“Doing the Danger Room solo, huh?” you quickly change the subject. 

“Not a very good team player,” he shrugs, “Not that anyone here would be much of a challenge if they wanted to join.”

“Cocky prick,” you scoff, “I bet I could take you.”

Something in his demeanor changes. His eyes darken and a playful grin pulls at his lips. All the pet names, sneaking up on you, making you blush. He’s been flirting…  might as well flirt back. 

“That so, princess?”

You want to backstep. You should backstep— but damn, playing with fire never seemed so fun. 

“Yeah, I do think so.” You cross your arms, a playful challenge. 

“And what makes you say that?” He steps closer, you don’t back down. 

“I’ve met a lot of men that think they’re hot shit. Men that need to be knocked down a peg. I don’t mind being the one to do it. They always walk away with their tail between their legs.”

Something in his eyes darkens as he crowds you against the wall. You can feel the heat radiating off of him. He leans down.

“Sounds like a lot of boys to me.” he nearly growls. “You’ve put a lot of boys in their place, princess?”

“Only when they deserve it.” 

A deep hum of approval rumbles in his throat. The feralness of his tone awakens something inside of you. It stirs in your belly and shoots between your legs. 

You’re playing a very dangerous game but can’t seem to help yourself— not with Logan.

Suddenly, he pulls away, all of the air you were holding in your lungs going with him. 

“Hank.” He grumbles under his breath as he steps away.

Sure enough, the big blue man himself rounds the corner, several scattered papers and blueprints in hand. 

“My dear, there you are!” Beast walks directly between you and Logan, completely unaware of the tension he’s breaking. “I wanted to discuss some foundational plans with you for the new win,” he places a hand on your back and gently starts guiding you down the hallway. “If you’ll excuse us, Logan.”

“Sure, bub,” you catch a glimpse of Logan scowling over your shoulder, “Do whatcha gotta do.”

________________ 

Days. It’s been days since you’ve seen him. It’s been days since you’ve seen much of anyone, really. 

Scott had everyone on high alert since the evening of your hangover. More activity was detected around the Trask extremist's now not-so-hidden hideout. Charles has been on the phone with any government official he can and the rest of the gang has been on around-the-clock reconnaissance. Thank god the only thing the US government hates more than mutants is domestic terrorism. If they can solve this amicably and quietly, they will.  

And you just keep digging your holes in the ground. 

You finished the tunnels yesterday, both far longer than the previous ones were. One exiting over half a mile to the West and another to the East. All that was left were the gardens now. 

It was the work that would take the longest anyway. They had to be sculpted meticulously, level, and somewhat aesthetic looking. Much harder than just boring a hole into the ground. Things that looked beautiful required more focus and time, that’s true with anything. You had a little less than a week to finish the job. Then… you’re not sure. Just go back to your regular life, you suppose. 

Do you really want to go back?

The question continuously repeats in your head as you try your best to focus on leveling the dirt beneath your palms. This job back at your school did not go as planned— at all. You thought you could do this quickly without drawing in the guilt. Quick in and out then back to your mediocre career and lackluster social life. In hindsight, you feel like a fool for thinking you could do this without old feelings stirring up. Feelings that weren’t nearly as bitter as you thought they were. Charles mentioned in passing how he’d like to start a new environmental science course, they’re just having trouble finding someone who has time. A trap, surely. Jean did say your thoughts are very loud lately, the professor’s no doubt overheard your inner conflict.

This thing with Logan wasn’t helping either. 

Nothing more than lust, you think. Carnal desires stirring for someone mysterious. A bad boy. A rogue. If you were younger you would have already found him late one night and jumped his bones. For some reason that felt… trashy. That and Scott’s had the man on call constantly. Even though he’s made it clear the feeling is mutual, you don’t want to necessarily piss where you lay. But that would only matter if you stayed.

You want him. You want him bad and you're being skittish about it because you don’t want to fuck up the dynamics of the team… because you want to stay. 

You want to stay. 

The roar of the Blackbird coming into land sends your ears ringing. They’re back from their latest reconnaissance mission. The sun was going to set within the hour. Your work would be done for the day and everyone would be home��everyone including him. 

You have no idea what you’ll do but… something. Tell Charles and Scott you want to stay? Finally pounce on Logan? Or just hide away in your room— that seems most likely. 

Unfortunately, the choice is made for you. 

“Still no flowers planted yet?” the sweet rumble of Logan’s voice pricks the hairs on the back of your neck. 

“Tomorrow maybe. Almost done with the beds,” you say as casually as possible. He comes to stand at the top tier of the garden several feet above you. He’s changed out of his uniform and you’re still in your 2 day old work clothes. Why does he keep finding you when you’re completely covered in dirt?

“Nice shirt,” he nods towards you. 

You look down at your grime-covered torso. You’d put on his flannel this morning. Why in God's name did you do that?

“Yeah some fella from the bar left it in my room,” you joke as you make your way up to him. “Sorry, musta just grabbed it without thinking.”

“I don’t mind. Suits you,” he reaches out, helping you up the final step. He pauses, just for a moment. “Hi.”

“Hi.” 

And there’s that awkward little silence brewing again you're both so good at. He’s desperately the person you want to see and the last person you want to talk to at the same time. Still, he sought you out first— and that meant something. 

You both decide to break the silence at once. 

“I’m sorry I’ve been—”

“Would you wanna get you another—”

Were you always this bad at this or is it just him? 

He chuckles, scratching the back of his head, “Got a little break in the action. Was wondering if I… could get you another drink?”

Your entire body screams no but your stupid heart is pounding yes. Maybe if you take it easy this time you’ll be fine. You actually remembered to eat today so that’s working in your favor. 

“I’m not sure I can show my face at Stevie’s again.” You joke. 

“Nah, not that dump. " He turns and starts walking back to the mansion, “somewhere much more local this time.”

_______________

The sun is just starting to kiss the treeline when you settle into your seat. You promised to start a fire in the pit and Logan promised to bring the beer. It at least gave you a little time to get rid of all the dirt that was caking you head to toe. Sharing a drink while watching the sunset on the back porch with a bonfire. You don’t think he intended for it to be as romantic as it was, but you can’t say you really mind. 

Logan comes through the sliding door, six-pack in hand. You don’t even get a word out before he’s already offering an opened bottle.

“Maybe take it easy this time,” he smirks.

“Mm, maybe you should have got me a juice box instead if you’re so worried.” 

“Oh, and here I thought you were a tough girl.”

Jesus fucking christ. 

You accept the beer and dare not make eye contact.

“Cheeky ass,” you attempt to shoot back, taking a heavy swig from the bottle. 

He takes a seat next to you on the bench with a heavy groan. “I’ve been called worse.”

You don’t doubt it. You were calling him worse barely a week ago. Now you’re sharing a drink at sunset with him? Well, another drink. 

“How was the mission?” 

He just grunts in response, leaning over his knees to peer into the fire, “Fucking annoying.”

“The bad guys or Scott?”

“Both,” He huffed a laugh, taking a swig from his bottle. “Just gettin’ impatient is all. Summers has us all waitin’ for the right moment. Can’t let them know we’re watching. Probably the right call with guys like these. Don’t tell him I said that though.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, tough guy.”

Your heart isn’t racing as much now. The air between you is getting lighter by the second. This wasn’t so bad. He wasn’t so bad. Not entirely the gruff and tough guy you made him out to be. 

He could have marched right up to you and asked you to come up to his room, and you would have said yes. You could have come banging on his door one night for a quick fuck, but you didn’t. There was that desire here, but there was something else building too. You wanted to know him. He seemed to want to know you too. 

You want to stay. 

“You miss it?”

“What?” the question catches you off guard. 

“The X-Men. Being an X-man.” Logan clarifies, “Do you miss it?”

It's a loaded question, one you might have answered differently a few weeks ago. 

“Yes.”

He’s just as surprised by your bluntness as you are. 

“Why leave then?” he prods a little further. 

You want to know him, he wants to know you.

“I wanted to see if I could do it. Just… be a person. Free to just exist in the world, ya know?” you instinctively curl your legs into your chest. “And I guess I did it, in a way. I’m not struggling, a business owner with steady work, but that doesn’t change the way they look at me. They want what I can do. I’m a one-man construction crew. Cheaper and faster, but still just a mutant, someone you pay under the table. I guess I forgot I couldn’t really change anyone's mind either.”

He lets your little confession linger for a moment before speaking again. 

“Fuck ‘em.” 

You raise a brow.

“Fuck ‘em. Never thought it was much worth being part of anyway.”

Guess you’re not the only blunt one here.

You unfurl your legs, stretching your feet out to the edge of the fire. You wish you’d kicked off your work boots earlier. 

“What about you, Wolverine? Do you like being an X-man?”

“Tch, now ain’t that a big question.” He raises the bottle to his lips.

“So you don’t like it?”

“I didn’t say that.” the bottle lowers. 

“You don’t seem to say much about yourself.” You’re baiting him, just a little.

“Fair enough,” he concedes with a sigh, “I do. I like bein’ here, bein’ part of something, but it's got its own challenges. I’ve got my own challenges. Demons like everyone else. Guess that’s how we all ended up here, isn’t it? Fucked up as that is.”

He’s a man of few words, but each of them is spot on. You’re only here because you were running, just like everyone else. 

“So is that a yes—” you tease. 

His knee knocks against yours with a chuckle, “Yeah, I suppose it is.”

His thigh doesn’t move away, resting lazily against yours. You swear you can feel his body heat radiating up your whole leg. 

“Would you come back?” He turns the conversation back to you again.

“I… I don’t know yet,” you admit. 

“Yet?”

“I don’t know if they’d take me. If Charles would—I’ve been—”

“They would.” his blunt candor cuts through your insecurity like a knife. Logan is a man who only seems to say what he means, and that’s comforting, strangely enough. “I don’t know much about it, but family is family. All you gotta do is ask with this crowd.”

A reassuring heat creeps into your cheeks at his words. You know he’s right. The only one you need to convince is yourself now.

“Yeah,” you thumb at the neck of your beer, long forgotten and surely completely warmed through by now. You set it on the ground, “I might…I might just ask.”

You feel him shift, leaning in closer to you. You finally turn your eyes from the dancing fire and face him. His normally hardened face is so… soft. 

“I wouldn’t mind keepin’ you around if you did.”

The kiss is gentle at first, to your surprise. Both of you lean into it almost nervously, as if asking permission. When neither of you pulls away he’s the first to go deeper, cradling your head in his freehand. You melt into him. His mouth opens against yours, tongue seeking your own. You let him in gladly. The sensation of his stubble against your cheeks makes your hair stand on end. A deep moan growls up from his throat and sends shockwaves through your whole body. Your thighs clench together almost on instinct.

He’s the first to pull away, but still hovering close enough for your noses to brush. 

“Come to my room tonight.” You find yourself asking through heated breath. 

“Why not right now?” his hand roams down from your neck to your hip. You want this, god you really want this. But…

“Please grant me the decency of a shower, Logan,” You worry for a split second your stupid mouth has ruined the moment, but he huffs out a small laugh with that unmistakable smirk.

“Me or you?” he leans to the side, nose grazing your neck. 

“B-both.” 

“Smell pretty good to me, darlin’.” You feel his breath dancing on your skin, a few small pecks left along your shoulder. 

“Logan…”

“I like that,” He comes back up to face you, eyes blown wide with desire, “I like the way you say my name.”

“You’re gonna be the death of me,” You can’t help but rake your free hand through his hair. It’s softer than you expected. 

“Can’t have that. Not when you just decided to come back,” He gives your hip a final squeeze and steals another quick kiss before leaning back. “You wanna wait, we’ll wait.” 

Suddenly you regret your shower request.

You sigh, dropping your head to his shoulder “It’s been a long day… few days.”

“I can relate,” his hand rakes over your back. “Probably gonna be called out again in 10 minutes anyway.”

“Any progress?”

“We’re close, whatever that means,” you can hear the irritation in his voice. You can’t blame him, the whole team was constantly coming and going the last week.

 They’d have a lead and it’d fizzle out. Even Ceribro was having trouble tracking them. You overheard Jean and Charles discussing the possibility of them possessing physic-blocking technology. Enemies had gotten their hands on weirder things. 

“What was it like… when you were on the team?” he asks. Well, if you weren’t going to jump into each other’s pants right away, might as well keep up with the fireside pleasantries— not that you minded.

“Smaller. Much smaller.” You snort, “We didn’t have a direct line to the president, that’s for sure. Mostly breaking up small-time mutant-related gang violence. Saving kids. Erik would show up every once in a while with some new lackeys. Nothing like what he tried on Liberty Island.”

“You heard about Liberty Island?” 

“Jean told me,” It was all over the news too, some important details left out, of course. “She told me it was your first mission with the team too.”

“Hell of a first mission.” he takes a heavy swig of his mostly untouched beer. “What was yours?”

“Child rescue,” You don’t even have to think about it, the night is still imprinted on your mind, “A dozen mutant kids were being held in some dirty warehouse in Long Island. They were gonna be sold off to some private warlords or some shit, I don’t like to think about what could have happened. We got them out, that’s what matters.”

You pull away from him, your previously warm mood now soured by no fault of your own. Thankfully, Logan doesn’t seem offended. 

“Why do I feel like that’s not the whole story?” He takes a cautious sip, raising his brow.

He’s right. 

“Do you actually wanna hear it?” You peek at him from the corner of your eye. He nods.

“I told you I was an angry kid. I was an angry X-Man too,” you remember the close calls that night, “Seeing those kids like that… it reminded me of… it was too much. If I get too mad, buildings fall down. Foundations crack. We got the kids out while the roof was coming down.”

You thought you were so ready for the field. What a mistake that was. Charles and the team never shamed you but there was always this look in their eyes. Like they were waiting for you to go off again. You kept a tighter hold on it after that night. You let yourself lose control before, you don’t want to do it again. Keeping it in keeps people safe.

“You don’t seem so angry to me, sweetheart.”

“Years of practice.” you give a faux smile, a pit of regret forming in your stomach for oversharing— again. 

“You’ll have to give me lessons sometime,” he nudges at your shoulder. Despite it all, he’s still smiling at you. 

“You’re a good listener, Logan.” you smile back. 

“Gotta be when you don’t have much of your own story to tell.” he shrugs off the small compliment. 

“What happens in your story, bub?” you joke, praying he might share just a little.

He leans forward over his knees. His deep brown eyes stare blankly into the fire like he’s searching for something. He said there’s missing parts. He said he doesn’t remember much.

“I don’t know it all yet.” is his disappointing answer, “It was… taken from me. Charles is helping me find the missing pieces. I want to tell you, I do, but I want all the pieces back first.”

You desperately want to ask him to elaborate. Memories taken from him? Missing time the Professor was helping him get back. That had to be part of the reason he stayed here. To get back who he was. 

Still, you won’t push.

“All good stories are worth waiting for, I hear,” you give him an assuring smile. He thankfully smiles back, placing a warm hand on your thigh. Something about him, something about Logan just made this all so… easy. 

“You could tell me yours while we wait?” He asks, orange lights dancing over his soft expression. “How did Dozer become an X-Man?”

“It’s… not a happy story.” You bite your lip.

“Neither is mine.”

You look back at the fire, his warm eyes suddenly too much to bear looking at. Were you really going to do this? You barely know him.

“You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to.”

But you do want to, and that’s the surprising part. You don’t know why, but you want to tell him about the darkest part of your life. It’s been so long since you’ve said any of it out loud, maybe you need to get it out. Maybe he’d understand. Maybe you’ll scare him away. Maybe you just want him to know what the fuck he’s getting into.

You take a deep breath.

“My powers manifested when I was ten. Was playing in the backyard with my brothers and suddenly we had a new sinkhole. Broke one of their ankles. I don’t think they ever stopped being afraid of me after that. My father was afraid at first too. Tried to cover it up, told me not to make any new friends, to keep to myself in school. It went on like that for a few months until… until everything changed.”

You’ve tried so hard to forget these few years of your life. At the same time, they seem to be all you can think of late at night. It’s what you’ve been running away from your whole life. 

You’ve told so few people this story, and now you’re telling Logan. He sits there quietly, a supportive heavy hand on your thigh and kindness in his stern eyes. 

He wanted to know you. 

“Like I said before, my father was a career army man. I think he loved it more than us. I know he loved it more than me. I don’t know how he heard about it but the military wanted mutants. Secret programs within secret programs. A once in a lifetime opportunity for him. I was his ticket in.”

You feel Logan’s grip tighten. 

“He didn’t give me to them completely at first. Made me do tryouts I guess. Took me to some base and made me show a bunch of old men in nice suits what I could do. Did that a few times. It was slow at first. Taken out of school. Brothers stopped talking to me. Told to practice more. At first, it was once a week, then it was more, then he just left me there.

“I was scared the first night. I was only twelve but I was smart enough to know where this would all lead. I knew my father didn’t love me anymore. I knew they’d do horrible things to me. I broke out. They caught me within 24 hours and scrambled to find a prison I couldn’t break out of again. Where do you keep a child that can move bricks and concrete like toys? One day, I just woke up in a room of metal. They hid me away in some deployed battleship. Never learned where or what the name was. There were others there too I think, but I can’t be sure. They couldn’t trust me, but maybe they thought they could train me. Make me a soldier. Break me.”

Funny how these words come out so easily. You recite them in an almost sterile way. Maybe you needed to say them again. Needed someone else to know. You feel Logan’s eyes boring into you, but you don’t dare meet his gaze. Not while there’s more to say.

“I think I was on that ship for almost a year. When they started talking about taking me to another facility ‘with the others’ I knew I had to get out somehow. I played along, became docile, whatever they wanted so long as they would let their guard down. I’d be shipped out to the mountains in Canada, they said. When we docked I could finally feel earth again for the first time in months. Even from inside my little cell, I was close enough to summon something… anything. 

“I put a hole in the ship with a few bricks from the pier. One hole became dozens. I didn’t stop until the hull was more air than metal. The boat sank at port and I was able to escape in the commotion. We were in New Jersey. In 6 months I got to Chicago and that’s where Charles found me.”

The sun has completely set but for a few stray ribbons of orange in the sky. The crackling of the dying fire was deafening between you two. You finally look back to Logan. You can’t read his face. It’s not blank or shocked like most people were after your sad story. 

His next words shock you. 

“The Weapon X program,” it comes out so quietly, “You were… oh my God, you were in the Weapon X program.”

It’d been so long since you’d heard that goddamn name. 

You draw away from him immediately, betrayal muting over all of your other feelings. He knew. 

“Charles told you, didn’t he? You let me drone on while—.”

“No! No, he—” Logan bites out, hands closing into fists. The knuckles whiten instantly. “Chuck never told me.”

“Then how do you know that name? How do you know what Weapon X is?” You spit the words with venom, your defenses are immediately put back into place. He knew something. He knew something about you this whole damn time. 

Yet, he looks so small. Shoulders slouched down, defenseless. Eyes wide with what almost felt like compassion.

“Logan… were you… were you in Weapon X?”

He looks down at his hands resting on his lap, squeezing his fists one last time before releasing them. As his fingers unfurl his claws slowly unsheath, lazily crossing over each other on his lap. It could almost be perceived as a threat, but that’s not what he’s doing. It’s like he’s showing you something. 

“Darlin’... I am Weapon X.”  

__________

[threepandas]

Bad End: After The War (Next ->)

The click of a button in a mostly quiet room. Machines humming as they churn an endless stream of data. Listening. Receiving. Filtering through the noise, for those bits of intelligence that might win us the war. The outpost was quite. As much as it could be, at least, on this god forsaken moon.

"Perimeter Check?"

More specifically, 'did you get your ass eaten by those horrifying eel-snakes? Because you promised not too, and I WILL be mad.' 'Cept, you know, these channels are technically recorded. Rather not have my snark On Record, thanks. So SUBTEXT.

The familiar, oh so melodious, demonic death screeching of abomination eels and blaster fire comes on comm. A symphony straight out of some sci-fi horror movie, act 3. The part where everybody's getting eaten. Except NOT, because this? This is just my life.

Though the eaten part is still a Very Real Risk.

Which Is FUN.

I wait. Hope I just caught Headshot at just a bad time. Not, you know, in his final moments. Ha ha... Nope! Not! Thinking 'bout that! He's immortal, I'm immortal, and we both live in a happy fun time fairy land of FUCKING WONDERS. Denial? Fuck yeah I know her! Best friend, that one. Gonna be my future kids godparent. Walk me down the aisle. We BESTIES.

There is finally, at long last, ominous silence. Dead or dying? Dead or dying? Which side, eels or Headshot, is Dead or-?

Click.

"Perimeter looks good. Bit of a mess near the east gate, though. We'll need to get the droids to shove some mess over the ledge. They tried to climb again."

Oh thank FUCK. Tension bleeds out of me. This post is hell on my anxiety. I send back the confirm. Slump back on my seat as I keep an eye on his tracker's dot, on the patrol read out. I fucking HATE perimeter checks. They aren't safe. But... well...

This universe? I'm pretty sure, it's an "all the serial numbers filed off" blatant rip off of Star Wars. Might be a fan fiction? Cause, while the troupes are familiar, the "characters", no one is where or WHO they should be. There are also other "totally not X" bits here and there, all of which confuses the fuck out me.

But what I DO know? Is that making a fuss about the safety and well-being of us peons? During this, the "totally not the Clone Wars"? While Evil Dick, Sith-y Pants the Obvious is in charge? GREAT way for our entire outpost to get "tragic casualties of war"-'d. So yeah, no thanks.

Keeping my mouth shut.

And, hey! At least they ate our complete asshole of a commander. Technically we SHOULD be getting a new one... but we were told to make do. Same with all the OTHER critical roles currently empty.

The DICK.

Like? I know he wants to drag out the war and maximize suffering for Evil Not-Sith, Off Brand Space Wizards Of EVIL Powers? But like? Fffffuck yoooou, dude. What the hell. Hope he stubs EVERY toe, always.

The Clones deserve better then this. The SECOND the war is over? I'm stealing Headshot. Fuck this "property of the state" bullshit. Just me 'n him, man. We could go explore the wilds. Or get him a beard and fake glasses. Clone? What clone! This is my BROTHER, Headshot. Our parents were gun-toting hippies. My names Moonrock. Fuck off, maybe. Keep walking.

The second I see him cross the base threshold, I switch over to Droid command. They can't hold my shift forever, but for a bit? Should be fine.

Jogging down the hall and sliding down a few ladders, I finally catch sight of Headshot as he leaves the staging area. Oof. That is a LOT of eel blood. The cleaning bots are cursing up a storm as they follow him. Even from the other end of the hallway... he smells... ripe.

I give him a second to lead the way and for the bots to work behind him. Then join in the little parade. Ah, eel goo. The third worst thing that could come out of going outside. Right behind losing a limb or dying. But hey! I restocked the soaps for ya!

"Doesn't change that it's on my everywhere, Commander."

Oooooh~ breaking out the COMMANDER are we? Is that SASS I hear? Snark perhaps? Why HEADSHOT! Such insubordination~! What EVER shall I do?

He snorts and suggest something anatomically impossible as he gestures to the shower rooms door. I tap it open for him. Goo boy that he is. Grinning I follow and find a bench where I can sit so my back is to him. It... used to be weird, to be honest, this level of living in each others pockets. But time and isolation has eroded a lot.

Clones don't really see boundaries like everyone else. Don't have the same taboos or unspoken social rules. After all... they're all the same gender. Were forced to live basicly in a breadbox with each other. The culture that developed reflects that. And I? Am more of a follower then a "type A". Not passive by any stretch of the imagination, just... eh.

I don't have the social outgoing-ness? I guess? To drag the culture of our base towards MY social norms as opposed towards his. It made him comfortable. I shrugged and went okay. Rinse and repeat. To be honest I was just glad he trusted me enough to SHARE.

Booting up my definitely-not-a-tablet, (which is of course, STUFFED full of various bits of sci-fi technology that only half makes sense) I once again try and connect to the wider army's mainframe. Nothing. I've BEEN trying for weeks now. But for some reason? We're cut off.

No new commands. No new forms to fill. No demands for information.

No UPDATES on what the FUCK is HAPPENING out there.

I'm... not gonna lie, getting nervous. We're a listening outpost. Some of our information is time sensitive. And our SUPPLIES are not infinite. Forget food, if we run out of AMMO? Those nightmare snake-eel THINGS will... Look, long and short of it? I've got an "empty" blaster shoved under my bunk. Two shots left. And compared to the slow, SLOW digestion and meat threshing teeth those horrors have?

At least it's FAST.

But I would REALLY prefer we NOT fucking come to that, you know? That someone would fucking PICK UP. Or? I don't know!? Notice we're offline? Whatever the problem is! The fact that we've gone dark is SPOOKING the fuck out of me.

Not to mention? That even BEFORE communication went down? The chat rooms and update boards weren't making a whole lot of sense. Lot of clone specific references that I didn't get. Memes, maybe? I don't KNOW and that's the part that's killing me. I had no way to CHECK. It all just... went dark.

We're still GETTING data. But? We can't seem to SEND it. Headshot and I checked. I checked the droids while he got the dish and other external devices. Clambering around the roof with his sniper rifle like a well armed, circus trained, mechanic. Nothing was wrong with the droids. And according to Headshot? Nothing was wrong with the dish.

After a while I gave up. Again.

Reminded myself to practice my meditative breathing. In... out... IN... OUT... do NOT trough your only Data Tablet. You'll break it. You can't REPLACE it. It might FEEL satisfying in the moment... but it's Not Worth It. Just listen to the sound of the running water. The quite of the room. Breathe... unclench your jaw, make your muscles relax, c'mon you can do this.

Fuck, I needed my anti-anxiety meds. But we were starting to ween me off them so I didn't go cold turkey when we ran out. It was fucking with my head. But, hey! At least I wouldn't run the risk of seizures! Or any suicidal ideation! No, just slowly building anxiety, in this, History's Most Stressful Outpost.

The shower shut off behind me. Leaning forward to grab a towel from the stack, I tossed it blindly over my shoulder. Heard him catch it. Wet feet slapping quietly against tiles as he walked forward, drying himself. From the feel of droplets and heat, looming just behind me? He was leaning over my shoulder. The man always did like to damn near boil himself in the shower.

"Still nothing? We've run out of D6 bolts. Not to mention your meds..." He commented, still drying off. I could feel the occasional brush of a towel. A bare arm reached over my shoulder to tap at the screen. "Have you tried...? Shit."

He tried several commands. Leaning over me, damn near cradling the back of my head against his bare chest. But nothing worked. Plopping his chin down on the top of my head, he casually wrapped his arm around my shoulders, leaning his weight on me as he considered the problem. The fans kicked in overhead, dehumidifing and hopefully preventing any sort of alien molds.

I told him to go put on some fuckin pants, before he frozen something he might miss off.

With an amused snort he stood and wandered over to the armor cleaner. Grabbing a new undersuit. Blacks went on, armor freshly de-goo-d, he called that he was presentable once more. I swung my legs over the bench. No need to stand, after all, if we're not leaving yet. Besides, exhaustion was a symptom of the withdrawals. Med changes are a BITCH.

Just as I was about to suggest anough brainstorming session, though?

Our comms both ping. LOUDLY.

That's the emergency signal from the control room. SHIT. I'm up and running before the sound even fades. Headshot right behind me. Not so much because he can't out run me, as he'd stop to grab his weapons as was bringing up the rear. Guarding my back. I prayed, PRAYED, this wasn't an attack. We were supposed to be a fourteen person team.

There were TWO OF US.

We'd never be able to hold the line. Would DIE here. Fuck, I didn't even have time to get that gun! I should have been carrying it. It had been too morbid. But... but...!

I slam into the control room. Headshot a half step behind. The droids frantically churning away. Okay. Okay! What's happening? A ship, big one, in orbit. Oooooh fuck. How Big? I ask. Am informed? "Wipe us from the face of the galaxy" Big. Ha ha! FUCKING FANTASTIC. Great! Merry fucking Christmas to me, I guess! Okay. Okay!

Let's DO this.

Get on the short range ship comm, (never thought I'd USE it but here we fucking ARE) and ask, politely, for them to Fucking Identify Themselves. (Because we have Big Guns and are NOT afraid to use um!)

There is a long tense moment. Then? Oh thank merciful FUCK. A Clone's voice comes on the line. General Spark of the 153rd, in pursuit, they're here to catch traitors and resupply if we need anything. Permission to land a few ships?

I. Could. WEEP.

Yes! Oh, ABSOLUTELY yes! Whoever they're chasing picked a REALLY stupid planet to hide out on, not gonna lie. They'll be picking their traitors up in PIECES. But? Never has a voice been more beautiful. Send Techs! You have FULL use of the outpost General! Welcome!

Setting the droids to navigating the incoming ships safely through landing, I all but DRAG Headshot towards the landing pad. People! Actual, real, PEOPLE! Supplies! Oh thank FUCK! We might be able to figure out what wrong with our relays! Get NEWS! And? That was a CLONE GENERAL!!!

That NEVER happens!

I can practically feel my self vibrating with excitement. Bouncing slightly on the balls of my feet, as the ships come in for a landing. The officers that roll out are all clones. Their armor more personalized then I've ever seen it. It's BEAUTIFUL. I can't help but lean over and whisper to Headshot, saying as much. Wondering if we can get him some of the supplies they must of used.

You know, assuming he WANTS any of um.

If not? Dibs.

His shoulders are shaking. Why are-? One of the officers thanks me for the compliment. Headshot you SON OF A SUBSTANDARD VAT. Was your SHORT RANGE MIC ON!? Why would you not-!? Bastard! Dead to me! Sorry general, I've never met this man before in my LIFE. Couldn't introduce if I TRIED.

Still! High ranking clones? We love to see it. I am THRILLED. It's been long over due.

Dooooesn't mean we should hang out in Eel Country though. Everybody INSIDE! Let's goooo. Nice and safe, where no ones getting eaten, m'kay? Thank you! And yes! I DO have a list of resupply needs! A LONG list. Starting with my meds, followed by ammo. Though honestly they're tied at first...

As me and the, now rather concerned, medic chat about the collapsing state of our highly rationed medical supplies? Headshot and the General are off to the side... talking about... something. Not sure. Probably not important, or he'd include me. I show the medic our "infirmary" and medical charts. Then get pulled away by the mechanic.

I barely get to SEE Headshot over the next two days. Forget sitting down. The only breaks I get? Meals and lights out. It's kinda awesome. Exhausting, yes, but? After so long isolated? It's a good type of exhausted. The sort where you feel like? For ONCE? You're actually being productive.

There are SO MANY eel burrows to scan? Potential landing sites? And all the MAINTENANCE? Dear merciful FUCK. Literally everything is out of date and cheap as BALLS. Held together with shoe strings and a prayer. But finally! FINALLY! Someone in budgeting GIVES A SHIT!!! Better equipment! Actual medical supplies! Real bedding! And best of ALL?

AIs! As in Actual, information sorting, artificial intelligences!

Because there literally hasn't been a REASON for humanoids to do this job for CENTURIES aside from a misplaced sense of superiority and distrust of droids! All WE need to do? Is stay on base and make sure THEY don't go rogue or break down from the extended isolation! Woooo desk job!

I'm gonna name um. They shall be my BABIES.

That said? None of this? Is very... Off Brand Sith-y. Little too "cares about their fellow man"-ish, you know? And... I'm not stupid. Excited as FUCK, for all the supplies and new changes... but not? Stupid. Blind.

They're keeping me away from the control room.

Keeping me out of important discussions. Sending me off on errands. All of which? SEEM important. ARE important, on the surface, but hide the fact that they are intentionally scheduled? Just as Certain Things Are Discussed. I am being... handled. Like a child. A fool.

When I confront Headshot? In our bunkroom, which we've shared for YEARS at this point. Slept just across from each other, so this lonely hell might feel just a little less empty? So when the dark thoughts creep in? That we might die in this God forsaken place, forgotten by the universe, left to ROT here, and wouldn't it just be easier to-? Someone there, so we won't. So we still matter.

He stands across from me. In OUR place. OUR room.

And FUCKING LIES.

......I guess I know where I stand, huh? And I know... I KNOW, I shouldn't feel betrayed. Clones come first, always. That's the party line. How they survived. I'm a Nat. There was always a power imbalance between us. I would always have been held just that bit further away then one of the brothers. Guess... guess it just finally happened.

I shouldn't feel betrayed. I have no RIGHT to feel betrayed.

But I do.

Headshot looks alarmed, hands twitching at his side, even as he tries to maintain his facade. Nothing's happing. They aren't doing anything. Right. Uh huh. His lie sits between us like a field of broken glass. The words, the arguments, I'd been looking for now seeming so useless. What's the point? He's made his decision.

I feel like crying. Don't want to talk anymore.

Good NIGHT, Headshot.

In the morning, I don't bother asking. I know he notices. Is waiting, restless, for us to continue on as we always have. We always check schedules after all. But what's the point? He'll lie. Instead I pull my armor on and go. Go to your brothers, Headshot. Whatever's happening here, I'm clearly not trusted enough to be part of it.

I just get out of your way.

There's a lot of busy work on my schedule, but honestly? The new AIs are learning to handle it. Instead, I head down to the new supply crates. Grab some bedding. A cart. Then head back. Pack up my shit. I just... can't.

Moving it all to a different bunk, I still have most of the day left to go. Could...? Probably? Check out if we actually DO have space rats? The droids have been reporting dust and noise in the basement, near the food stores. So likely vermin of some kind. Gonna be horrifying to find out what kind of vermin exsist HERE, but better then nothing, I guess.

Grabbing one of the better ration bars to shove in my face on the way to the gun locker, I count it a breakfast. Everyone's busy with a clone only meeting. Good for them, I guess. Not upset with General Spark or his men, I realize, as I check over the gun, no... just Headshot. Because he hurt me.

All he had to say was "I can't tell you." Or "trust me" and I WOULD have. But no. He LIED. To my FACE. And now? Now I feel like I'm waking around with shards of glass where my heart should be. Like I want to hit something. I need a distraction. So down to long term storage I go.

Normally? It's only droids down here. I have to ride a cramped little maintenance elevator lined with blast doors. You know, incase Satan's favorite pet somehow burrows in. The fuckers. It's also freezing. Which, I mean? Great for food storage, not so much for thermal regulation.

The level is eerie quiet.

Which.... huh. That's? Not right.

I reach for my comm before pausing. The hurt in my chest throbbing. I know I shouldn't let it get in the way of professionalism. Of protocol. The rules are there for a reason. To keep us alive and safe. But... God, I don't want to hear his fucking voice right now. I might cry. Say something I don't mean and regret later. You don't LAST long, isolated out in Hellpit, Nowhere, without doing a little soul searching.

Mortifying ordeal of being known and all that.

My hand drops. It's fine. I'm FINE. There's nothing down here. Or, well, should be nothing down here. We'll find out.

Slowly moving forward, I begin to check the stacks. I don't see any of the droids. Don't HEAR any of them. There should be at least thirty down here. But all I hear? Is the circulation fans. The sound of my foot steps. Something isn't right.

It's a loose, half melted screw in the path that saves me. At first I think it's a bug. But the quite clink when my foot nudges it is unmistakable. It makes me look sideways. There, a cleaning droid, cut down from behind. Tiny little mechanical claws still reaching out to claw itself to safety. Wheels shredded. The marks of a lazer blade are unmistakable.

The hiss-hum even more so.

I BARELY dodge.

Half my gun, simply sheared away. Molten slag dripping from the cut point, the battery already violently destabilizing ask it's nicked. I throw it, before I have the chance to lose a limb. The blast takes out a crate. I'm thrown. Barely roll in time to dodge the downward stab of the hissing blade. A brutal, magic-enhanced, kick sends me flying.

Straight through a stack of ration crates, into a wall mounted medical case. I land among the corpses of the droids. Each, a picture of terror and betrayal. I don't understand what's happening. The blades not red or black! It's blue! That's a not-jedi! Right?! Why are they!? Crates are lifted into the air. Threatening to smash down and bury me alive.

Can't move. Something twisted, badly, in my leg. My chest burning. Something cracked, I could feel it. I'm gonna die. Oh good, I'm gonna DIE.

"Wait! She's not a clone!"

I stare up into the face of the so called "good guys" and feel nothing but terror. Around me, the pieces of thirty droids I'd named and known, dead and dumped like trash upon the ground. Flower with his fussy need to have everything just so, Chirp who loved to sing, Mouse with the wheel I could never get to stop squeeking.

Nothing but Cannon fodder.

They died so afraid.

"Oh! You're right! Sorry! I thought you were one of those 'peating bastards. Are you okay? How long have they held you?" The Knight said. His Apprentice nodding eagerly.

My brain was static. Empty. Held? Slurs? W-what in God's name? I stayed down. Feeling small, lost, and confused. Pain rocking my body from being thrown around. The Apprentice, at least, seemed to pick up on the fact that I had no idea what the fuck they were on about.

"Ah. You don't know what's happened." She said sympathetically. It would be nicer, if she hadn't stood back while I was hurt, before they got around to asking who's side I was on. "The Clones betrayed the Republic. Took it over by force. They've made an empire. They killed the old Chancellor, who was Fallen, but then instead of handing the Republic back to the people? Kept it! Said we couldn't be trusted with it."

The last part was said mockingly. As though everyone and their brother hadn't been aware the Republic was on the brink of collapse. Corruption at an all time high. As though that same Republic hadn't been using the Clones as a SLAVE ARMY.

Slaves do tend to take exception to their chains, historically.

I wasn't really sure why the fuck they were surprised.

"Now come on, you can join the Rebellion. You must know all sort of information, from sitting out here, right? You can-!"

Click.

My helmet went full dark and internal audio only. Which was interesting because I still could barely move. But then bright light and sound, popped and cracked not to far away from my head. A flash grenade. And I finally, FINALLY? Remembered that all standardized armor? Comes with in built life support feeds.

Headshot's mystery meeting was in the command room... where my life sign readout would be. The life support feedback. Real time monitoring from me getting my ass kicked and WHERE.

A hand grabs the drag handle built into each armor, for EXACTLY this reason, and I feel my self pulled out of the danger zone. Can hear heavy, open fire. Shit. There goes our supplies. My helmet clears and I recognize the shoulder I've been careful thrown over. Headshot. He came.

He falls back at some signal I can't see. Straight to the elevator.

The shoulder under me is shaking, just slightly. Adrenaline, fear, anger. I can't tell. But... I... I'm...

"Don't." His voice is rough. Choked out through gritted teeth. His grip just carefully loose enough not to bruise. It seems to be taking everything he has. "You don't get to die. Do you understand me? You're not ALLOWED to die. Not now. Not ever. We didn't survive this long for you to leave me now."

He barely waits long enough for the door to open. Stride smooth and desperate as he races us towards the medic. I rest my head against his shoulder and breathe. Let myself be manhandled. Ha ha... a-at least? I know what he's keeping from me now. So there's that. Ow. Oh god.

The medic has to put me under. Bone fragments.

I drift.

Wake up, bandaged to hell and back, in ou-... in Headshot's bunkroom. Across from the empty bunk that used to be mine. Bed's softer then it should be, still smelling like Headshot. We haven't had the new sheets long enough. Knowing him, he probably stacked um.

The door opens. Headshot stalks in, dragging a cart behind him. His usual "pleasantly amused by life" expression nowhere to be seen. Instead? His expression is... blank. A determined, almost violent, edge to the set of his shoulders.

In silence, I watch as he unloads the cart. Bedding, knickknacks, the various bit of cobbled together wall art. All carefully stuck right back where it had been before. As though he had memorized the proper location of each and every piece. Even as he worked, with his back to me, every line of his body was daring me to be dumb enough to argue.

I didn't want too. I was just... just fucking tired.

Didn't like that we were arguing. If that was even what we were doing.

"Why?" I asked. Summing up everything and distilling it. Why didn't you just fucking TELL me? Why didn't you TRUST me? Why did you think I'd turn on you? Why would you lie? Why were we cut off? Was it REALLY a technical error? Why take the Republic? Why ANY of this?

Just... WHY, Headshot? Please...

"I refuse to lose you. When the war ended, you were going to leave. You said you'd take me with you... but honestly? That was naive. There would be no where safe we could ever go. We all knew that. We all had favorites." He finally stopped organizing my bed. Instead, smoothing down the sheet. Running both hands across it as he stared down, unseeing. "It was all so unorganized. Filthy. They treated us like DIRT. But we were... we ARE better. Designed to be superior. Stronger, smarter, faster. More durable. Why were we listening to them?"

"Then we found out why. Control chips in the brain. The nervous system. Carefully hidden, yes. But not carefully enough. You weren't authorized, you know. I'm glad. If you had been? I'd never have forgiven you. You'd never know you were dead before you died. But... I promise."

"I would have made it fast." His smile was a terrible thing. All broken edges and betrayal. Teeth upon teeth. A mania finally set free.

"Never thought those hypocrites would run here. Expect us to die for them. The happy little slaves. For the glory of THEIR Republic. You'll be okay, Commander. The General's agreed to stay until your back on your feet, just in case."

Headshot slides onto the bunk, sitting at my side, sweetly brushing hair from my face as though he hasn't lost his god damned mind. He's the picture of relief, now that there's no more secrets between us. Now that I'm injured and dependent on his help. Yet... it's teetering.

As though at any minute...

He could slide into some... unhinged state of mind. How LONG has he been on his last thread? Barely holding together? He leans forward and my mind goes utterly still. His lips pressed gently against mine. Chaste. Sweet. A warm, calloused hand, cradling my poor bruised cheek.

"I promise we'll stay together." He whispers against my stunned mouth. Eyes intent and mad, utterly loving. Like a strangers. "I won't let them seperate us. Not for anything. Now that it's done? We can be assigned anywhere. I'll take you with me. War's over, love. We're finally free."

Were we?

[the-kr8tor]

TTN oneshot request :): reader who's been invited to one of the parties after Hobie's band gigs. Hobie,being his usual teasing self,tries to make r dance with him to one of the songs that come from the speakers but he can't dance at all,so reader ends up teaching him.

-🎸 anon

Ahhh 🎸 anon!! I love this prompt thank you for sending it 🫶 I changed some things around hope u don't mind ❤️❤️❤️

Pairing: Hobie Brown x fem! Reader/ Spider-punk x fem! Reader

Word count: 1.3k

Tags: no use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader (r is mentioned to wear makeup though) cw drinking, poop jokes lol, TTN! Hobie, TTN! Reader. FLUFF

Thread the Needle Masterlist

TTN oneshots

ʕ⁠·⁠ᴥ⁠·⁠ʔ

You lean against a railing overlooking the spacious backyard. Watching Yuri dismiss the third man who tried his luck tonight is better than any cable tv, she scoffs, waving the disappointed man away with her long nails. Yuri notices you giggling by yourself, she beckons you over to the dance floor with a smile. You shake your head with a laugh, gesturing to your half empty cup. She sighs dramatically, miming a crying face. You blame the booze in her system on why she's so lively. It's a nice change though, you love seeing her prance around the dance floor, looking for a more worthy partner.

The bass booms, playing all the classic punk music in the speakers. The sky is dotted with twinkling stars, cool air blowing past the grassy backyard. Roaming your eyes around the venue, you spot James chatting up a familiar figure, his arm slung comfortably around her shoulders. She laughs at something he said, her curls bouncing on her shoulders. You smile softly, happy for them both.

You turn around to face the inside of the ridiculously huge house. The home is packed with bodies bouncing around, the glass shakes from the loud music blaring inside. You see Ned becoming an unwilling bartender, mixing drinks for everyone after he got a particularly nasty bloody mary from someone who's so drunk they shouldn't even be near the kitchen.

With all the people watching you're doing, there's one person you haven't seen in a while. You wonder what he's up to, hopefully not to sneak behind you to carry and throw you into the icy pool—

“You're not very good at sneaking up on me anymore, Hobs”

Hobie groans right behind you, looking over your shoulder, you smirk at him. “How?” He effortlessly lifts himself up on the railing, arms envelope around you, his chin resting comfortably on your shoulder. You help secure him with your hands around his elbows.

“I can sense you a mile away.” You whisper the next part. “I think I got your spidey senses from hanging around you too much”

“You make it sound like a disease!” The alcohol makes him all gooey inside, just for you. “Y’know I have the cure right here”

You quirk an eyebrow. “Oh? What is it then?” Turning around, you face him fully, his arms never leaving your waist whilst your hands never leave his skin.

Hobie points at his lips quickly before he falls on the ground (like you would even let him fall with your hands holding him steady)

“Here”

“Ah! Is your cure tried and tested? Peer reviewed by scientists?”

“Only one way to find out”

You giggle, meeting him halfway to kiss his lips. He tastes of beer and licorice he's been chewing on since you've arrived at his friend's' house. Your hand blindly slides to the back of his neck, fingers scratching lightly. Hobie smiles into the kiss, his hands tucked into the back pocket of your jeans.

Unfortunately, you need air to survive so you reluctantly pull away. He chases your lips making you peck him thrice to ease his suffering from apparent lack of kisses.

“I think I just overdosed on your cure” you hold him close even with the wooden railing between you.

Hobie chuckles, “You'll be fine” he swipes away the sheen left on your lips.

“So considerate. Where have you been, huh?” You lean close to his ear. “Did you go out and fight crime? Are you okay?”

There's goosebumps on his arms, not from the cold. “Nah, I was in the bathroom, taking a huge dump–”

You clasp your hand over his mouth, Laughing through it. “I literally just ate, babe”

“Just answerin’ your question, Gromit. ‘m being honest it was big,” he measures using his hands, “this big. Record size” Hobie loses his grip on the railing, falling flat on his ass.

“Huh, I see a bigger one right here” you look down, seeing him feign offense with his hand clutching his imaginary pearls.

“I should've thrown you in the pool when I had the chance and then we’ll have a floater” he nonchalantly rests on the grass by his elbows. Looking up at you with a smug grin.

You roll your eyes, walking down the steps to help him up before he gets grass stains all over his leather jacket. Hobie clearly doesn't need your help getting up but he would take any opportunity to hold your hand. Your hands are still slightly cool from the drink, a stark contrast to his warm ones, a welcome difference to the both of you.

Heaving him up, Hobie meets you in a tight embrace, smothering you in his hold; you love it though. Slowly he sways you to the beat of a punk song you recognize from back when you and Hobie were in highschool together. A reminiscent of your younger days with only homework and school to worry about and the deep longing you have for your best friend now turned partner.

If only your younger self could see you now, she’d think you did well for yourself. She'd be proud of all the things you've accomplished with the love of your life with you.

“D’you remember this song?” Hobie whispers in your ear, his piercing kisses the shell of your ear.

“How could I not remember?” You lift your head from the comfort of his chest, eyes staring fondly at Him.

He chuckles, you feel the happiness vibrate from him. “Yeah, but d’you know the backstory?” you shake your head.

“I requested this song to the bloke who was holding us hostage with his shitty songs.” You chortle, Hobie continues his story. “I had to bribe the wanker,” he sighs. “So I could ask you to dance with me.”

Your eyes soften, heat behind your sockets, your hold on him tightens.

“Then I realized I can't fuckin’ dance and I'll make a bloody fool of myself in front of you. So I let the music play and continued to talk to you throughout the party because that was enough for me.” He pauses, your eyes are glossy, glimmering under the porch lights. “Being with you was enough.”

You feel the tears fall so you hide your face on his chest once again, feeling sorry for soaking his shirt, you let your hug tell your feelings.

“Don't hide from me right after I poured my heart out to you.” He laughs, his fingers spread across your nape, rubbing softly, finding you endearing. “C’mon, I need to see my Gromit”

You look up with red eyes, mascara and eyeliner smudged. “Fuck you” you say with tears on your cheeks, trying to sniff it away. But your wide smile and grip on his shirt tells your true feelings. “You're such a little shit”

Hobie laughs loudly, fingertips cleaning away smudged makeup. “Yeah, yeah, but you love this little shit”

You lean up to kiss him, as gentle as he holds you, as affectionate as he loves you.

Sighing, you cup his face. “I do, so much.”

He presses your foreheads together, enough to make tears escape your eyes once again. Hobie's fingers catch them, wiping it away from your skin.

“If you let me teach you will you ask me to dance with you?” Whispering, you loop your arms around his neck, swaying with the beat.

“I might be a lost cause, love.”

“I'm patient, don't worry” you can't seem to keep your lips away from him as you kiss the corner of his lips.

Hobie suddenly pulls away, leading you towards the makeshift dance floor. “Alright then, no time to lose!”

You let him guide you, laughing all the way. He shimmies on the dance floor, long limbs flailing about, eyes staying on you.

You've got your work cut out for you.

[promptthebear]

Kissmas Day 6

Prompt: A kiss that is leading to more, but is interrupted by a third party.

Pairing: Edmund x Reader

A/N: Finally, finally this one is done! Apparently I can't write any Narnia fic without going way overboard. Also be forewarned this one is a little spicy, but still PG-13/T so it keeps within my boundaries for this series. If you want to know how explicit I'm willing to get for Narnia characters specifically this is a pretty good benchmark. Anyway, enjoy!

When Edmund invited you to spar with him, you were immediately suspicious.

“Why on earth would I need to learn swordplay?” you asked, standing up on your tiptoes and gently pressing your lips to his “I’ve got the best swordsman in Narnia to look after me”

A blush rose across Edmund’s cheeks, a pretty red canvas for those freckles he never quite outgrew. You resisted the urge to grab hold of his face and cover it with kisses, putting your own mark between the constellations already dappling his skin.

“You’re very sweet,” your betrothed replied, glancing quickly at Abelia, the grumpy she-badger who was serving as your chaperone, before sliding his arms around your waist “And very right. But what if there comes a time when I’m not around?”

“Then I’ll just go find Peter,” you said, chuckling at the way Edmund’s nose scrunched in annoyance “Even if he’s only second best, he can at least provide a nice diversion while I make my escape”

The smack of his hand against your arse came so quickly, there was little chance of Abelia noticing. A sidelong glance at the talking badger confirmed this fact. She hadn’t even so much as looked up from her drop spindle, far more concerned with crafting an even thread than minding the two of you.

Emboldened, Edmund ducked his head and stole another kiss. This was far less chaste than the one you had given him moments before, threading his fingers through your hair to deepen it and brushing his tongue over the seam of your lips.

You tried to muffle a moan and almost failed. It was all you could do to keep upright as Edmund continued to lavish your mouth with affection, going as far as to tug at your bottom lip with his teeth before breaking the kiss and gently tilting your head to the side so he could whisper in your ear.

“Listen here cheeky girl,” he kept his voice soft, but there was a stern edge to it that nearly had you squirming “I’ve booked the training pitch for us, and I’ve been promised we’ll have at least an hour alone. No Abelia, no Tumnus. All you have to do is meet me there tomorrow, okay?

You looked up at Edmund with wide, hopeful eyes. Alone? The promise hung between you, almost like a magic spell. It sounded too good to be true.

You’d known Edmund since he’d first came to Narnia, when he was ten and you were eight. You’d loved each other in the way only children can, squabbling over card games and rounds of chess, falling asleep together by the fireside after reading on long winter nights.

At sixteen and fourteen, you’d been betrothed. Since then you could count on one hand the number of times you’d been alone, as though you hadn’t been playing at kissing and going for twilight swims only a few years before.

Reputation didn’t matter so much to Edmund’s siblings, you had been around so long they already considered you part of the family, marriage or not. Your family, on the other hand, was a different story. You were their only daughter, and being such a small household from Archenland, there was a lot riding on this marriage. So until the day of the wedding, you had to keep up appearances.

The sound of Abelia clearing her throat shook you from your reminiscing. You glanced over at the she-badger, who had set aside her drop spindle and was now making a “move apart” gesture with her claws. With a sigh, you did as you were asked, pausing to give Edmund one last kiss on the cheek before turning and gesturing to the nearby couch.

“Shall we sit? Perhaps play a game?”

Edmund nodded, bringing up a hand and running a finger nervously under his collar before he sat next to you. It was hard to tell in the rosy glow of the firelight whether or not his blush had gotten deeper, though you could certainly feel a kind of flame on your own cheeks.

Satisfied that her charges were once again behaving themselves, Abeila took up her spindle and began to wind the thread with practised ease.

“Only half an hour longer, my lady,” she warned, her voice growly by nature rather than intent “Your lady mother wants to sup with you this evening.”

“Yes Abelia.”

Under the table, you could feel Edmund’s hand brush your knee as you began setting up the board for checkers. You glanced over, and were pleased to see the usual mischievous gleam in his eye.

“Tomorrow” he whispered, giving you a small smile, which you returned.

Tomorrow.

***

It was high noon by the time you set off towards the training pitch. The sun was at its zenith, shining brightly over a cold, clear day. There was not a cloud in the sky, save for the ones made by your breath as you walked.

Even dressed in layers as you were, you still felt exposed. You’d borrowed a set of training garb from Lucy, which consisted of a linen shirt, leather jerkin and matching trousers. While you appreciated her generosity, they were a far cry from your usual gowns and petticoats.

You were well aware of the fact that the outline of your legs, thighs, and hips were all prominently on display in the snug breeches. Already, you’d garnered some stares from passing stable boys and squires going about their daily chores. The feeling of their eyes on you sent an anticipatory thrill down your spine. Whether Edmund had asked you to dress this way for function or his own benefit, you couldn’t say, but you were certainly eager to find out.

The training grounds were, surprisingly, empty when you arrived. Save for a few sparrows pecking about the grass, there was not another living soul to be seen. You stood on the dirt track circling the field, listening to the wind buffet the trees and the occasional birdsong while you nibbled at your bottom lip.

Surely you had heard Edmund correctly? The training pitch, tomorrow. That’s what he had said, you were certain of it. And yet here you were, without any sign of Edmund. Perhaps he had been called away and hadn’t had a chance to send notice. Or maybe Abelia or Tumnus had caught him trying to sneak off and he was attempting to explain himself without drawing suspicion to you. Or perhaps Peter had needed him to-

“First rule of sword fighting. Always be aware of your surroundings.”

Your shriek rang out, high and sudden, scaring the nearby sparrows into flight. How Edmund had managed to sneak up on you, in full plate armour no less, would forever remain a mystery. Solving said mystery, however, was far less of a concern to you than trying to connect the toe of your boot to Edmund’s shins.

“What’s the matter with you?! You scared the living daylights out of me!”

Edmund didn’t seem the least bit concerned by your admonishing, laughing and dancing away from your volley of kicks with an easy confidence. His bright eyes and wide smile made you forgive him almost instantly, letting yourself be caught when he reached to put his hands about your waist.

You stood on tiptoe and kissed him, open mouthed and unashamed. Edmund responded in kind, allowing his hands to freely roam along your body now that you were no longer under Abelia’s watchful eye.

The thick metal of his armour made it difficult for you to do the same, so you chose instead to use one hand to cradle his jaw while you brought the other up to twine in his hair. You could taste the tea he’d recently drunk on his breath, a blend of cinnamon, cardamom and ginger from Calmore you knew he favoured. A soft moan escaped your lips as Edmund grabbed a handful of your bottom, squeezing it none too gently. You pressed your body against his, hoping he could feel your warmth and eagerness through his armour, silently imploring for more.

When Edmund finally broke the kiss, you whined, which made him laugh again. You watched as he gathered up a pair of swords from the grass nearby, more than a little confused. Initially, you assumed that the remark about him teaching you swordplay was nothing more than a ruse, to mask his true plan from Abelia and anyone else who may question your intentions for that afternoon. Did he truly wish to put a sword in your hand?

“Come on, you needy thing” he said as he tossed a sword to you, hilt end down. You managed to catch it, albeit a little clumsily “I said I was going to teach you how to fight, and I’m nothing if not a man of my word”

The sword felt strange in your hand, and you held it at length from your body as though you were afraid of what would happen if you brought it too close. Try as you might, you couldn’t keep your arm from trembling slightly, which almost ousted the weapon from your grasp.

Edmund watched you for a moment, before finally driving the tip of his own sword into the dirt and closing the distance between you two.

“Second rule of sword fighting,” he announced, his voice cheerful and relaxed “Know how to hold your weapon properly”

He reached out and closed his hand around your own. Despite his armour, he had opted not to wear gloves, and you could feel the callouses on his fingers as he began to adjust your grip. You stood, entranced, while he guided you into a more natural stance, his touch leaving a trail of tingling warmth each time it came in contact with your hand or arm. When he was satisfied with your position, he stepped back and went to retrieve his own weapon.

“Alright. Now, I want you to try and hit me.”

Your astonished expression made Edmund grin in spite of himself. Had he made that suggestion to his sisters or Peter, they would’ve knocked him flat without a second thought. You were far too sweet for your own good.

“It’s alright darling. They’re only tourney swords, watch.”

To prove his point, Edmund ran the index finger of his other hand along the blade’s edge. You watched, waiting for blood to appear, but let out a sigh of relief when none followed. As Edmund had said, the blades had been blunted for practice or sport.

“See? You wouldn’t hurt me even if you wanted to. Well, I suppose you could, if you smacked me with the hilt. But please don’t. My face is the only asset I’ve got”

You laughed, the action pulling some tension from your body. Edmund smiled encouragingly, before bringing up his sword and crooking the fingers of his other hand.

“Come on then. Or are you just going to stand about admiring me all day?”

With another laugh, you took a couple cautious steps forward. Edmund watched your feet with the trained eyes of a practised fighter, but otherwise didn’t move. A few more steps and the space between you two had shrunk to little more than an arm’s length. You stared at your betrothed for a moment, once again giving him the chance to change his mind.

When no protest came, you thrust your sword forward, aiming to hit the side of Edmund’s shoulder. It was a clumsy attempt, without enough force behind it to make for a decent strike, and Edmund sidestepped it easily. You expected him to come dancing around your other side, grinning like a fool and taunting you into having another go, when you felt the flat of a blade smack across your ass.

You whirled, gasping in both surprise and affront. Edmund was roaring with laughter, nearly doubled over with the force of it. You couldn’t help but pout a little, feeling betrayed.

“Oh god, I’m sorry dearest” he said, still a little breathless “That wasn’t very sporting of me, but I couldn’t help it. Here, let’s try again, only this time I want you to put more weight on your front foot and really extend your arm. Then you’ll have better balance and a more fluid thrust, alright?”

You nodded, doing as instructed while Edmund returned to his spot in front of you. As he said, the motion was smoother and your feet felt surer beneath you as you pushed forward. Once again, you tried to strike Edmund’s shoulder, figuring that was a safe choice lest you miss your target.

This time, you managed to glance the blade off Edmund’s arm before he darted away. He let out a playful whoop, before disappearing again behind your back. You turned as quickly as you could manage, knowing he was going to try and spank you again, but Edmund was quicker. The flat of his sword struck your ass with a sharp, stinging blow. You grit your teeth, refusing to let him have the satisfaction of hearing you cry out, and spun around to face him again.

Edmund’s grin, large and knowing, was the first thing you saw after turning. It was all you could do not to toss aside your sword and wipe the smug look off his face with the palm of your hand. It reminded you of your summers as teenagers and all the times he ducked you in the river, before finally apologizing and pulling you in for a burning kiss while you’d clutched at his bare arms.

The memory made you shiver, and you wondered if perhaps this was the same sort of game. Your betrothed's face gave nothing away, whatever he was scheming was staying locked away behind that infuriating smile.

“Giving up already, are you?”

Taking a deep breath, you brought the tip of the sword up once more and pointed it directly at Edmund’s chest.

“Not a chance, your highness.”

With that, you rushed at Edmund, throwing sportsmanship to the wind and hoping you could surprise him before he was ready. For a moment, he appeared genuinely taken off guard, and you relished the way his eyes widened as you swung your sword through the air. However, a well timed feint from an amateur was no match for the best swordsman in Narnia.

The resulting vibration of Edmund’s sword clashing with yours made your teeth knock together and seemed to shake the breath from your lungs. You clutched at your aching wrist, and doubled over to kneel in the dampened grass. Your sword fell from your loosened grip, now useless and forgotten on the ground.

Immediately, Edmund was crouched beside you, having tossed aside his own weapon the moment he saw you go down.

“Oh god, sweetheart, are you alright? I’m so sorry, did I hit you too hard?”

You sat, your face protected in the cradle of your arms and knees, refusing to look Edmund in the eye. When he reached out a hand and placed it on your shoulder, you pulled away.

“Darling?” his voice dropped low, into that special, soft tone he only used for you “Darling, look at me, please.”

Even when he said your name, you didn’t look up. You waited, trying to keep your breathing even. Inside your mind, you began to count.

Three…

Edmund moved even closer. You could feel his breath by your temple, his face only a few inches from yours.

Two…

He said your name again, but to no avail. This time, when he placed his hand on your arm, you didn’t move.

One…

The look of shock on Edmund’s face as you leapt and tackled him into the grass was one you were going to savour. Within seconds, the two of you were tussling atop each other like puppies, the world lost in a whirl of limbs and giggling.

You had the advantage, but Edmund was faster and stronger. It wasn’t long before he had you pinned beneath him, his face hovering just above yours and his arms forming a cage on either side of your head. Your legs were tangled together, one of Edmund’s knees trapped between yours, and your feet seeming to go every which way.

“You little minx” he panted, your mouths so close the two of you were almost sharing breaths “I was scared I’d really hurt you.”

“Will you forgive me if I yield?”

Edmund studied your face, the put upon pout, your flushed cheeks and the way your eyes shone with mirth, and felt what little resolve he had crumble.

“Of course. How could I stay mad at you?”

By way of apology, you reached up and pulled Edmund’s head down into a bruising kiss. He moaned, softly, before working your mouth open with his tongue, which you received without protest. Your bodies were flush together, the metal of his armour searing cold against your skin. You were about to offer to help him remove his chest plate, when your hips jerked up instinctively, knocking into Edmund’s and revealing the hardness in the front of his breeches as they brushed together.

Embarrassed, you broke the kiss and hid your face away in the side of his neck. The two of you had had many firsts together, but nothing that had ever gone below your waistlines. Edmund chuckled, the sound warm and reassuring in your ear.

“Hey, it’s alright. Don’t worry about that, okay? I just want to focus on kissing and touching you. It’s all I’ve been able to think about lately, you’ve practically driven me to distraction.”

You looked up at your betrothed, who’s cheeks were equally as flushed and eyes equally as bright as your own. You thought about the first time he’d kissed you, beneath an apple tree in the orchard. You’d been scared then, and embarrassed too, but Edmund had guided you through it with as much patience and gentleness as anyone could have asked for. Since then, you knew you’d always be safe with him.

“Alright, I suppose I’ve caused you enough suffering for one day.”

Edmund laughed again, before bringing his mouth down to kiss your neck. You moaned, tilting your head to the side to give him better access, and this time when your hips bucked upwards, you didn’t feel as ashamed. It wasn’t long before he was tugging at your collar, trying to gain access to the tops of your breasts.

You slipped a hand between your bodies, doing the best you could to open the laces on your shirtfront despite the awkward angle. That was all the invitation Edmund needed. He began a trail of heated, open mouthed kisses along your collarbones, each one leaving a faint red mark in their wake. Your body felt as though it was on fire, pleasure and want coiling deep in your stomach.

Every sense you had was filled with Edmund, his smell, his taste, the feeling of his lips and fingers exploring your exposed torso. He touched you as though you were something precious, his personal goddess of love and beauty laid almost bear beneath him. You moaned his name over and over, like a prayer, begging your most devoted follower to offer all he had in the worship of your body and soul.

Edmund…Edmund…

“Edmund!”

The two of you split apart as though you had just been burned, Edmund scrambling to his feet while you hurriedly tried to arrange your shirtfront back into place. Above you stood Peter, every inch a High King with his face like thunder and the afternoon sunlight glinting off the peaks of his golden crown.

You kept your eyes trained to the ground, studying where the grass had been trampled0 beneath your footsteps earlier on. Any explanation for this was going to have to come from Edmund, your tongue had left you to fend for yourself and you wanted nothing more than for the training pitch to open up and swallow you up.

“Peter…I…we-” Edmund’s voice was shaky, sounding more like a little boy who’d been caught nicking sweets than a grown man of one and twenty.

“I have been looking for you. Everywhere.” Peter’s tone was even, but there was a biting inflection to each word that made you wince “The council. Has been looking for you.”

Edmund’s cheeks went from flushed to pale so quickly, you were afraid he might swoon.

“Oh God. The foreign policy meeting. Was that today?”

“Yes, Ed! It was hours ago, or would’ve been if you’d actually bothered to show up. I had a room of dignitaries and house representatives, some of them all the was from Calmoren, looking at me like I was the biggest fool ever to walk the face of the Earth, and asking where you were. As if I had any bloody idea!”

Peter’s shouts rang out through the air, clear and dripping with every ounce of disappointment the young king could muster. While his ire was directly entirely at Edmund, you couldn’t help the cold shock of guilt that was now settling in your stomach. Edmund had been distracted lately because of you, he’d even said so himself.

“I’m sorry!” you cried out suddenly, rising to your feet so you could take hold of Edmund’s hand “It’s my fault. He wanted to come and see me, that’s why he missed the meeting. I’m so sorry Pe- Your Highness.”

There was little change to Peter’s expression, saved for a single raised brow. However, his eyes seemed to soften ever so slightly as he looked you over, taking in your mussed shirt and hair, and the way you were clinging to Edmund’s arm.

“Who’s idea was it to come out here?”

You and Edmund exchanged a quick glance, but said not a word.

Peter let out a sigh that seemed to come from the soles of his boots, before trying again.

“Tell me. Whose idea was it?”

“Mine.” Edmund interjected, before you could even open your mouth in his defence “I said we were going to have sparring practice”

It was all Peter could do not to roll his eyes.

“Wonderful. Then you can be the one to explain to the council why the meeting was moved to next week.”

Any glib comment Edmund might have made in reply was silenced as Peter grabbed his brother by the collar, and proceeded to drag him off by the scruff like a misbehaving puppy. You watched as Edmund was frogmarched across the training pitch, Peter half carrying him as though Edmund wasn’t at least a good foot taller and wearing full plate armour. The look on the High King’s face told you that this was something he’d had more practice doing than he probably liked.

They were about halfway across the field when Edmund finally wrenched himself free from Peter’s grasp, which in turn caused some sort of argument to break out. You were too far away to hear clearly, but you caught a snippet or two, mostly Peter’s exasperated baritone saying something about “the wedding is in a month, just wait, would you?”

He punctuated that statement by cuffing Edmund around the ear, and though the younger man yelped in protest, he didn’t return the blow. You couldn’t help but chuckle softly, imagining that this was also most likely a scene that had frequently played out in Edmund’s life. He seemed to forgive Peter quickly, however, since he didn’t pull away when Peter then slung an arm across his shoulders.

Before long, the two of them were approaching the cluster of trees just before the path that would lead back to the castle courtyard. Just before they disappeared from view, Edmund turned back to face you, brought a hand to his mouth and mimed tossing a kiss to where you were waiting. You laughed, delighted, and returned your own volley of kisses, which Edmund then pretended to store in his pockets for later.

Edmund was a lot of things. Stubborn. Sarcastic, and well acquainted with a healthy sense of mischief. But in spite of all that, at least he was never boring.

[mamamittens]

Oh, Sweet Child of Mine (Pt. 6)

Platonic Yandere Whitebeard Crew & Reader-Insert

Main|First|Previous

Warnings: References to past drugging and implied violence/offscreen death. Platonic Yandere behavior is still present, but more in the background for this chapter.

If yandere content in any way disturbs you, please do block the tag "oh sweet child of mine" as well as the appropriate variations of "yandere one piece". Do not tolerate this behavior in real life.

Stay safe and have fun.

Hopefully the next update will be a bit longer before we get to the actual plot of this whole storyline. If you have any desired character interactions among the Whitebeard Crew before the fruit incident, please let me know cause I've only got about one more update in me before that otherwise.

Word Count: 1,520

On the third day Marco apparently forgave Twin-Blade for his ‘tea transgression’—not that you did—and decided it was alright for him to meet you properly.

Twin-Blade, despite his reputation as a commander and chef on the Moby Dick, was probably the biggest goofball you’ve ever met. Undeniably charming in a practiced way that felt almost natural until he slipped up and revealed he was actually a bit of a dweeb. And very concerned about your food intake. Something about not being a healthy weight for his liking. Truthfully, you just… weren’t comfortable eating too much food after drinking what you thought was innocent tea. So anytime you did eat and he happened to be keeping an eye on you, you ate less as a precaution.

Marco noticed and had taken to smacking Twin-Blade’s head when he spent too long looking in your direction. Though certainly too old for it, he whined and cried to his nearest brother for Marco’s cruelty. Once he even tried to console himself by hugging you but your expression of distaste just made him cry for real. You’d feel bad but…

He did drug your tea once. Once is more than enough in your book.

On the fifth day you’d been tentatively allowed to eat in the mess hall with the rest of the crew as opposed to in the kitchens under Marco’s unnervingly attentive eye. He still visibly preened when you addressed him and had yet to correct you about anyone else’s title—you suspect as a bragging point but thinking too hard on the matter weirded you out.

Regardless, you found yourself grateful that you didn’t eat near Fire Fist. The way the young man shoveled food into his mouth and aggressively went to stab anyone reaching too close to his plate was horrifying. The meat and potatoes stood no chance under his ravenous appetite despite having a plate three times as stacked as anyone else. There was pie for dessert as well, and usually you’d be all for it, but Twin-Blade seemed keen to know your reaction to the treat. Almost as glutenous as Fire Fist, the man seated next to you was trying to cajole his opposing seat mate for his dessert.

Large and with many braids in his pitch-black beard and hair, he laughed every time he was denied in good nature. His dark eyes met yours and he grinned cheerfully.

“Zehahahaha~! You going to eat that?” He pointed to the still untouched plate of cherry pie. You grimaced, glancing at Twin-Blade from several tables over.

“I think Twin-Blade would cry if I didn’t…” You paused for only a moment before sliding the dessert to the pirate. “Have at it.”

He cackled loudly but didn’t think twice about eating the slice.

“Zehahahaha! Now that’s cold to our poor commander! What did he do to you, marine?” He winked, polishing off the plate with clear satisfaction.

You looked at Twin-Blade, his expression crestfallen as he laid his head onto Flintlock Pistol’s shoulder. The immaculately dressed man seemed to roll his eyes and give you a dry look. Clearly blaming you for his current predicament. You smiled back.

“He knows what he did.”

You didn’t want to be here. The least they could do was let you have small victories to yourself. Fire Fist suddenly shoved himself in beside you, arm resting over your shoulder as he scooped up what little you hadn’t eaten yet.

“He really is sorry, you know.” Fire Fist murmured between bites, catching you as your nose wrinkled in distaste.

“It’s the principle of the matter, Fire Fist.” You huffed, finding yourself awkward crammed between Fire Fist’s too hot body and the man that liked cherry pie a lot.

A heavy hand thumped you back as he laughed.

“Zehahahaha! Let them give Commander Thatch a hard time for a bit. I think he’s enjoying having an excuse to be dramatic for once.” He laughed. “I’m Teach, by the way! Zehahaha!”

He was an awful jolly sort of pirate, wasn’t he?

“And call me Ace already! Marco’s been so mean lately about you only using his name. What’d he do to earn that, anyhow?”

You huffed, cheeks hot as you grumbled.

“… he’s a very pretty bird.”

That sent the entire table into a fit of laughter. Fire Fist choked on his own laughter.

“W-Would you forgive him if he wore cat ears?” Fire Fist cackled.

You couldn’t help but glance at the man in question. Cat ears, huh?

You stopped breathing, your lips pressed together in a firm line as you fought against the sheer ridiculousness of the image that appeared in your head.

They’re pirates!

They kidnapped you!

You are a marine on a Yonko ship!

Wearing cat ears to make up for drugging your tea means nothing!

…

…

…Would he wear it on his head or the top of his pompadour?

Your body shook, sounds of concern growing around you as you covered your face. Desperate to hide the wide grin at the mental image. The worst part is that you’re not convinced that he wouldn’t do it by now either.

“H-Hey, it’s alright! I-I’m sorry?!” Ace whispered desperately, rubbing your back.

You snorted, giggling breathlessly as your glasses fogged up. Tears in your eyes as you laughed uncontrollably. Distantly, you wondered if this is what a mental breakdown felt like. The stress from your situation finally cracking you like an egg. Not quite round the bend for crazy town, you shook your head.

“I-It wouldn’t h-help! Ahah~snck!” You whispered breathlessly, smacking Ace’s hands away as you tried to bury your face in your arms. Anytime you managed to regain control it was ruined by looking at Ace’s beaming grin. “S-Stop looking at me like tha-aat~! Snck-gh~!”

“I don’t know… you seem to think it’s pretty funny~” Ace cooed as you shook your head.

“Ssshuut up! Shut up!” You cried out, wiping your eyes and gasping for air. After several more moments you finally manged to calm down. Only to look at Ace with a wobbly smile. “Do you think he’d wear it on his pompadour?”

Ace froze. His face growing red as he glanced at Twin-Blade and back at you several times.

Finally, he cracked, sending you both into hysterics again.

“See! Look, Izooouu! They are laughing at me!” You heard Twin-Blade cry out from across the room as you collapsed against Ace’s side. The logia user wheezing with tears in his eyes.

Not even Whitebeard joining in with his own laughter could ruin the moment.

You hadn’t laughed this hard in ages. All your marine comrades either too distant, busy, or dicks to joke around with.

You snagged a newspaper to hide your face better. Foggy glasses obscuring the headline about a ‘crackdown of justice’ in Paradise with brutal and swift executions.

Distantly, you wondered if your superiors had some sort of plan to rescue you or if they’d given up. It wasn’t just any crew that had you, after all.

--*--

“I’m afraid that right now we can’t afford to directly confront Whitebeard, I’m sorry—” Sengoku was cut off by a fist driving into the wall of his office. He glared at the younger man, knuckles white before he relaxed. Taking a deep breath before continuing. “I understand your frustration. But they can’t drift at sea forever. Eventually they’ll have to dock. We can stage a rescue once we have better intelligence on their movements. You are dismissed.”

The chair was violently thrown back as the man stormed out, teeth clenched as he hissed out a bitter acknowledgement.

The temperature of his office took quite some time to right itself despite the open door and windows.

Sengoku looked over at the Ensign’s file again and sighed before closing it shut and putting it away.

He hoped that the young marine was alright. While Whitebeard had a much more… benevolent reputation, he was still a pirate. And the marine had quite the impressive devil fruit to exploit. He almost asked Garp to retrieve them but didn’t want to risk a powered-up Yonko crew retaliating against his old friend—even if Garp would find it a fun sport. Who knew what kind of things Whitebeard would be capable of with his devil fruit even more powerful? He shuddered to think about it. Let alone the many other devil fruits on the Yonko crew.

He'd just have to have faith that a more subtle approach would work. They couldn’t risk putting out a ‘alive only’ bounty to rescue the marine. Too many questions. And if the other Yonko get word before they are safely secured with their originally planned partner, it could throw the entire Grand Line into chaos. Sengoku shuddered to think of what things Charlotte Linlin or Kaido could be capable of with more power. At least Whitebeard hasn’t seen fit to take over an entire country.

Sengoku would just take what he could get at this point… and look for faster, quiet solutions to his problem before a loose canon burns through the Grand Line to solve it himself.

[hella1975]

HELLA HOW DID YOU LIKE UNREAL UNEARTH?? FAVORITES??

finally finally FINALLY listening to this album im literally sat here laptop open finger on the play button genius page up ready to just spew out any thought i have in real time. let's go!

de selby pt1 - i forgot how much i fucking love hozier's lyricism. he just gets it. he's a master at his craft it's truly an honour to exist in the same time as him. this song is so calm but in a haunting way, like the stillness of fog on a lake in the morning. your reflection cant offer a word to the bliss of not knowing yourself. okay!!! OMG THE IRISH!! absolutely adore how vocal hozier is about his culture and even just how much his accent comes through on this album compared to earlier tracks. also love how the intensity builds in this part of the song this whole thing is stunning

de selby pt2 - THE WAY IT SLIDES RIGHT INTO PART 2! LOVE LOVE LOVE! very different vibe but it works. i love how there's always so many layers to hozier songs. like de selby alone has the actual song meaning AND the references to the third policeman AND its relevance to the circles of hell that we keep throughout the album. as far as media consumption goes hozier has never once failed to deliver an entire banquet. also love the whole 'becoming each other' of it all with de selby. ouroboros love. hannah have u seen this

first time - this feels like he's singing in a pub somewhere u love to see it. the liffey would have been softer on my stomach all the same! unearth without a name! some part of me must have died the first time you called me baby! this is v classic hozier imo just the most gorgeous love song u ever heard. also i love the themes of light/dark he's weaving into all these songs. girls when there are themes and symbolism <333

francesca - YEAHHHHHH i could talk about this song for HOURS there's so much going on it is so far my fave of the album ID TELL THEM PUT ME BACK IN IT! insanity. if a man sang about me this way id throw up blood

i, carrion (icarian) - insane song name. hello. what the fuck. is this about icarus. did hozier himself actually write a song about icarus. one sec. OH MY GOD HE DID WHAT THE FUCKKKK. "this song has tried to imagine that he was so enamored and so breathless and so ecstatic in the moment that he felt the air rushing by him, that he never knew he died" THEY HIT THE FUCKING PENTAGON. beautiful gorgeous im inconsolable cheers for that

eat your young - LETS GOOOOOO. cuntism off the charts. i listen to this at least once a day

damage gets done - circle of greed time! 'we had nowhere to go and every desire for going there' 'being blamed for a world we had no power in' god :')) the HARMONIES!!!! this is exactlyyy what being young is like good and bad. this is such a car song

who we are - I JUST HELD IT TIGHT SO SOMEONE WITH YOUR EYES MIGHT COME IN TIME TO HOLD ME LIKE WATER OR CHRIST HOLD ME LIKE A KNIFE WHAT THE FUCKKKKKK NO ONE FUCKING TALK TO ME. the uncertainty of growing up that he tackles in this, finding purpose, grappling with the fact there isn't always one. the last verse going soft and gentle. what was the NEED for this

son of nyx - another mythology reference! im crawling up the wall. ohhh it's instrumental! just looked at the meaning behind this and wow. this is beautiful

all things end - ADORE this song and the message of it. literally if there was anyone to ever get through this life with their heart still intact they didn't do it right!!!!!! and all things end!! and we begin again!!!! i just know zukka nation is going to go crazy with the parenthesis titles after this one

to someone from a warm climate - this is such a cool idea for a love song. like being from somewhere cold so you know how to stay warm, and saying to someone from a warm climate that it's okay if they don't know those things because you'll do it for them. the domestic, casual affection of that. it's not a bold declaration it's just confirmation that i'll keep the bed warm for you. that's all there is. that's all there needs to be

butchered tongue - ive already read some stuff about this one and ive been really itching to listen to it. the way he alternates between singing about the violence of the english against the irish (particularly the wexford rebellion) and the loss of culture there to how it relates to violence and loss of culture experienced by natives of countries on the complete other side of the world, how he's able to identify with that while still acknowledging that his language at least has a written history that can be recovered, while many native cultures dont even have that. there's no translator left to sound a butchered tongue still singing here above the ground. this whole thing is just. haunting and the fact such a big singer like hozier is taking so much time and care to talk about and spread awareness about ireland is very very cool to see

anything but - VIBE CHANGE! THIS MAKES ME WANT TO DANCE OMG! more water themes too omg i love this 'if i had his job you'd live forever' DAMN 😭 me personally i wouldnt have that. also the repetition of all the things he wants to be sooo true that's the human condition baby!

abstract (psychopomp) - ive been thinking about making a post for TIME about like. the desensitisation to death that you get from growing up in a rural area so listening to this is sooooo. like yeah. you remember the first animal you saw die don't you. you know the smell. the look in its eyes. see how it shines. see how it shines. this is an insane thing to write a song about. and to tie it to love? humanity? and the ongoing undercurrent of the circles of hell? CRAZYYYYY. this song is religious. to me. it's also very coldplay sounding actually? which is only ever a good thing

unknown/nth - HELLOOOOOO YOU KNOW THE DISTANCE NEVER MADE A DIFFERENCE TO ME!!!!!!! DO YOU KNOW I COULD BREAK BENEATH THE WEIGHT OF THE GOODNESS LOVE I STILL CARRY FOR YOU???? THAT ID WALK SO FAR JUST TO TAKE THE INJURY OF FINALLY KNOWING YOU?????? lyrics of all time. caving my own skull. top 3 songs on the album

first light - light themes again!!! dante surfacing from hell!!! the end of a journey quite literally!!! he can't keep getting away with this!! i love how... heavy? this gets in places. like it's got all the instruments and backing vocals all going at once with his voice overarching everything it's amazing. this is a perfect end song <3

[charles-leclerc-official]

I still think you’re not giving Daniel and RB their credit and placing too much discredit(?) on Carlos (not that he shouldn’t be completely without accountability). I think RB just nailed the set up this week. Daniel made up a lot of time at the corners. He had better traction coming out of it and saved his battery for the straights. Ruth Buscombe said that RB specifically prioritized the corners while ferrari was more balanced. Because RB is usually slower and way behind Ferrari, isn’t today an even bigger indication that Daniel and RH did something right/better?

Again true. Like Danny was great, and VCARB did really good with the setup.

However Carlos was within DRS and had so many opportunities for that overtake, it's not like Danny got out ahead and created a gap, Carlos was within that gap for a while. Not being able to pull those overtakes isn't due to maybe being lacking in the grip on corners (we didn't see him slide that I'm aware of) so that really isn't the issue.

The matchup between cars was really unusual here. And we can see based on Yuki's placement in qualifying that is probably closer to where Danny would have been if we are going based on car setup. Danny qualified where he did because he 1. put together a good lap and 2. a lot of drivers behind him in better cars messed up their SQ3 laps (Lando being a good example) He really shouldn't have been starting P4, 50% of that is him, but the other 50% is the other drivers really messing up their laps.

If Carlos had been able to overtake him I am pretty sure Danny would have also been overtaken by Oscar.

Overtaking really does come down to skill, and he was within that range, yes defending is too, but like I said Danny wasn't doing anything crazy defending really. He was doing a good job but it wasn't like he was going crazy.

Also there were many laps where he was faster than Danny, it really is on him to overtake there. His overall pace was better and his laps (minus the ones where things were slowed down for all of them on some of those turns) were faster.

Like here his pace was consistently faster in terms of lap time. Danny had it on him only a few laps, but the Ferrari was faster. Like faster by 3 - 5 tenths. Those are laps when he really had the speed and proximity to make the pass.

And then if we want to look at the corners you are referring to we can look at the fastest lap track maps, the first is Carlos vs Danny and the second is Carlos vs Charles, and the third is Charles vs Danny.

So you are right, Carlos was struggling with grip on the corners. But compare it to Charles, Charles was doing better than Carlos and Danny on most of those same corners. It wasn't a Ferrari Vs VCARB problem, it was a Carlos vs VCARB problem.

And just to be sure here is the track map for the fastest laps of both Ferraris and both VCARBS. It's Charles outperforming the VCARBS on the corners. Again so it's not the car setup being unable to take the corners that is the issue here.

Also managing tyres is down to skill, once again this is on the driver. Carlos has had average tyre management in this car, and the car as we have seen is very gentle on the tyres. I'd say his losses are due to the temps not favoring his tyre management, thus more tyre deg.

This really was a skill issue on Carlos' part. He didn't change up the way he attempted to make that pass(we saw him try the same thing multiple times) it's no wonder Danny didn't struggle to defend against it. He should have tried to change up his approach going into the corners on the overtake to catch Danny off guard. Given how many chances he had it really is on him.

And it's also just a difference in the cars, I'm sorry but there really aren't many good excuses when Ferrari is the second best car and it's stuck behind a midfield car. I'd give him more grace if it was a Mclaren or even an Aston, but it's a VCARB, that car is not that good. I don't want to discredit Danny too much because he did drive well, but the reason he finished where he did was because Carlos couldn't overtake and he had a lucky qualifying lap.

And here's the thing, it's okay, everyone has less than optimal showings. I get that, I don't want to be too hard on him, I just lay this out because it is mostly on him.

Like we have to have space for drivers to have bad days and less than stellar performances. I look at things as a whole. And unfortunately this does continue a pattern of him not doing well overtaking in the SF-24. So this isn't just this race either, it was just highlighting a weakness more than anything.

[firstkanaphans]

Hey there! Hope I'm not asking for too much, but could you please give us at least one of the three explicit scenes we were rubbed off? (Uninterrupted version ofc) thank you in advance🙏

Okay, first of all, I need you to know that that is the funniest typo I have ever seen in my life. Please slide back into my inbox and tell me if it was an honest-to-god Freudian slip or if you were just being clever—but either way, kudos to you for making me laugh 😂 Per your request, here is the kitchen scene (uninterrupted vers.) because y’all know I love me some domestic fluff. 

For the third morning in a row, Sand woke up to find Ray in his bed. And just like the two mornings before, he couldn’t quite believe that it was real. In only a few weeks, he and Ray had gone from strangers who frequented the same bar to friends. Or, well, something like that. 

Although Sand had a long list of things he had to do, he allowed himself a few seconds to just stare at the boy lying next to him. Ray always looked good, but Sand preferred him like this: sober and carefree without the usual trappings of wealth adorning his body. In Sand’s bed, with his hair un-styled and his designer clothes discarded, they almost felt like equals. 

He smoothed the covers down over Ray’s still-sleeping body and then crawled out of bed, being extra careful not to wake him. Ray needed his sleep.

Every time Sand stayed over at Ray’s house, Ray would offer to feed him, so Sand felt it was only polite to do the same. He couldn’t afford the typical restaurant fare Ray offered him, but he had plenty of food in the refrigerator. He would make it himself.

He was just putting the finishing touches on breakfast when he heard footsteps behind him.

“Something smells good,” a voice said and then a pair of arms wrapped around his waist. 

Sand turned to find a sleepy Ray resting with his cheek pressed against Sand’s back, still wearing the tank top and boxers he had fallen asleep in. “Me or the breakfast?” he asked.

Ray groaned at the corny joke. “It’s too early for flirting. My brain can’t keep up.” He released Sand, but he didn’t go far. He was like a puppy in that way. Instead, he just peeked over Sand’s shoulder to look at the meal he’d prepared. He let out a whistle, low and impressed. “You sure are multi-talented, aren’t you? Thug by night, cook by morning?”

Sand rolled his eyes. “I’m on my own. If I want to eat, I have to cook. Unlike you, I don’t have an Alfred.”

Ray snorted at the insult. “Asshole. I’m not Bruce Wayne!”

No, Sand was pretty sure Ray was richer than Bruce Wayne. Without a word, he picked a plate piled high with eggs, sausages, croissants, and bacon off of the counter and handed it to Ray, who stared at it as if it was poisonous.

“I can’t stomach it,” he whined, trying to hand it back. “I’m still hungover.”

“Just take a bite. Maybe it’ll help,” Sand said, refusing to take the plate. He had spent enough time with Ray to know that he didn’t eat enough. He filled up on alcohol instead. That was one of the reasons Sand had bothered to cook at all. And yet, the look on Ray’s face made it very clear the food was not going to get eaten. “Or how about a black coffee?”

Ray scrunched his nose in disgust. “I don’t like coffee.” This time when he tried to hand the plate back, Sand took it. 

“Well, what about a hangover pill? That might help.”

“They never do shit for me,” Ray said, crossing his arms over his chest as if it was the pill’s fault and not the fact that he drank like a fish. He was acting like a picky, spoiled child and yet Sand couldn’t let it go. He wanted to help him.

“Water?” he offered as a last resort. Ray shook his head. Sand set the plate back down on the counter, now annoyed. “What do you usually do to get over a hangover, then?”

Ray thought about it and then finally, his face showed an emotion other than contempt. He smirked the same way he did whenever Sand undressed him and then he stepped forward to whisper in his ear. “Jerk off.”

Sand couldn’t help it. He laughed. “You’re a feisty thing in the morning, aren’t you?”

“I’m not kidding! It works,” Ray said, but he was laughing too. “When you do it, your brain releases endorphins. Take a shower after that and”—he shivered as if just the thought brought him pleasure—“it feels damn good.”

“I can’t do it when I’m hungover. I just won’t get hard,” Sand said, staring at Ray fondly. His eyes were sparkling with mirth and Sand would have been able to read the intention in them from a mile away. He had been conditioned to it now. He took a step forward. “So…why’re you telling me this?” 

Ray threw his nose into the air and cocked an eyebrow, but refused to respond. Sand grabbed him by the waistband of his boxers, pulled him closer, and then let the elastic snap back against his skin. Ray jumped.

“You need help?” Sand asked.

Ray closed the distance between them, clearly pleased with the direction this conversation had taken. “Why? You want to?”

Sand did. He always did. He craved Ray the way Ray craved alcohol. He let his hand slip beneath the waistband of Ray’s boxers again, but he never broke eye contact. He wanted to see the way Ray’s eyes darkened, wanted to know that this, at least, was something he could give him.

“What if I do?” Sand asked, so close that when he spoke, his lips brushed against Ray’s. And then, heart racing, he kissed him.

The thing about kissing Ray was that you never knew which version of him you were going to get. Ray vacillated between soft and clingy, wild and passionate—usually depending on how much he’d had to drink—and in both cases, there was an undercurrent of sadness. Of anger. But today, with Ray still recovering from sleep, the negative emotions he fed with alcohol hadn’t yet had a chance to brew. He twined his arms around Sand’s neck and kissed him like he was the only thing in the world that mattered. It was an illusion, but one Sand would happily indulge.  He reached around Ray and picked him up.

Ray let out a yelp of surprise against Sand’s mouth, but once he realized what was happening, he laughed. Sand spun them around, set Ray down on the counter, and for a second, they just looked at each other. Ray’s cheeks and nose were red from kissing and even without the clothes or accessories that he usually wore, he was still beautiful. Sand stripped him of his boxers, took him in hand, and began stroking him.

Ray wasn’t yet hard, but he had always been very receptive to Sand’s touch. It didn’t take long before his dick was standing to attention against his stomach, but although he was clearly enjoying himself–bucking up into Sand’s touch—he was almost preternaturally calm. Instead of focusing on his own pleasure, all of his attention was on Sand.

As Sand jerked him off, Ray let his fingers roam Sand’s face, let them stroke through his hair, let them lift his chin and force him to look him in the eyes. Ray was staring at him as if Sand was beautiful. As if what they were doing was beautiful. And it gave Sand a cursed hope. He couldn’t take it anymore. So instead, he buried his face in Ray’s neck and kissed him there.

Almost immediately, as if breaking eye contact had broken some sort of trance, Ray returned to himself. “Fuck,” he hissed, throwing his head back to give Sand better access to his neck. It took less than a minute before he was making the most desperate sounds, whining and begging for release. 

So Sand gave it to him.

Ray came all over Sand’s hand with a delicious, satisfied moan that filled the whole apartment. It was the most beautiful thing Sand had ever seen.

He washed his hands in the sink and then helped Ray back into his boxers. Ray didn’t even try to help, happy to just sit there and let Sand do all the work. Once that was done, Sand picked him up and set him back down on the ground.

“Now go take that shower,” he said, smacking Ray playfully on the ass. Ray yelped in surprise, but he was smiling. “But when you’re done, you have to eat.”

“Come with me,” Ray said, taking Sand by the hand.

Sand rolled his eyes. “Come with you where?”

Instead of answering, Ray reached out and fondled the very obvious bulge in the front of Sand’s pants. “Come take a shower with me.”

“Ray,” Sand protested. This alone had already eaten up enough time in his busy schedule. 

“Please,” Ray begged, eyes wide, lashes fluttering—that goddamn puppy dog pout that Sand still hadn’t learned to say no to.

“Fine,” he relented. Then he let Ray lead him by the hand into the bathroom where they had spent their first night together, both of them beaming.

[cherryblossom-chopper]

》Beach Day《

Content: Bartolomeo Fluff. Ambiguous Reader.

————— ୨୧ —————

Bartolomeo couldn’t stop grinning as he watched you. Bringing you to the beach was one of his significant decisions. Maybe he couldn’t get in the water with you, but seeing you in your cute bathing suit was good enough.

Nico Robin and Cat Burglar Nami approached Bartolomeo’s spot in the sun, blocking Bartolomeo’s view of his partner.

“We’ve got questions for you, mister,” Nami declared, hands on her hips. Her sunglasses were titled down, a sharp look in her eyes.

The man let out a flustered shriek, not looking them in the eyes, “Questions? What kind of questions, Ms. Nami?” Bartolomeo stammered. He feels their eyes drilling holes into his skin.

“We want to know your intentions with (Name),” Robin replies with a smile.

There was something nefarious about her grin that Bartolomeo couldn’t place, nor did he want to. “I’m not trying to do anything bad with ‘em,” he says, fumbling with his words. His hand wanders towards his face as he tries to hide his expression.

A third-hand snatches his wrist from his face. The Black Leg Sanji’s nimble fingers wrapped around Barto’s thick wrist. He glowers down at the other man; Sanji’s pink-tinted sunglasses do very little to hide his expression. Sanji squats down to meet Bartolomeo’s eye.

“We can’t trust just anyone with (Name),” Sanji says, letting Barto go, “They are precious to everyone here; we can’t just let some fanboy come in and steal them away. Right ladies?”

Nami nods, leaning down. She pokes his bare chest, a well-manicured nail stabbing into his skin.

Bartolomeo opens and closes his mouth like a fish as he struggles for words. What is he supposed to say? Sweat peppers his brow as he looks between the three straw hats, which are all staring at him.

“Hey!” The voice behind them makes everyone jump. You stand behind the Strawhats, hands firmly on your hips. “What are you three up to?” you ask, flicking sea water from your fingers at their crew.

“Just asking our friend a few questions,” Robin replies, their nefarious smile melting into a soft grin.

You shoo your friends away from your nearly cowering partner. “Scootch,” you say to Bartolomeo, waving your hand at him.

His toothy grin shines on you as he makes room for you on his beach towel. He fails not to stare at you. The sunshine and the saltwater on your skin nearly make you sparkle. How ethereal could you possibly be?

As you sit, Bartolomeo pulls you into him. His skin tingles with the remnants of the saltwater on your skin, but he doesn’t complain. He would sink below the waves if it meant your happiness.

“Thank you for saving me,” he says with a sheepish smile.

You smile back, enjoying the weight of his arm draped across your shoulder. “I always will,” you coo, shutting your eyes and leaning into him further.

“How was the water?” he asks, Bartolomeo’s eyes watching the blue waves lap at the shoreline, marking the spot he cannot cross.

“So refreshing,” you sigh, “But Luffy kept trying to come in after the rest of us. What are we going to do with him?”

“Ah, well, he’s just using his brain power so much to focus on other things,” Bartolomeo laughs, “Being the most powerful pirate in the world is hard work.”

You barely contain a laugh. “Sure, whatever you have to do to convince yourself,” you grin, patting his firm chest.

“But-but, you are much more impressive,” Bartolomeo says, the words tumbling out of his mouth, “You’re my favorite Straw Hat, obviously.”

You lean over and kiss his cheek. “Of course, I’m sure you’re not bluffing,” you tease.

Blushing, Barto’s arm slides down your side and wraps around your waist. He squeezes you and yanks you into his lap. “Me? Bluff with you?” he replies, resting his head on top of yours, “I could never lie to someone as handsome as you.”

You roll your eyes, grinning. “What a dork,” you say before struggling to get up. Your partner’s arm is holding you in place. He groans when you try to get off.

“Don’t leave,” he whines, “Ms. Nami and Ms. Robin will come after me if you won’t protect me.” He squeezes you a bit tighter.

You let out a soft ‘ugh’ before wiggling out of his grasp. “Come with me then,” you say, finally getting to your feet, “We can play beach volleyball or build sandcastles. We don’t have to get in the water.”

“Only if you hold my hand,” he said, reaching up to you.

With a grin, you help him up with a grunt. He’s far heavier than he looks.

With your fingers intertwined with Bartolomeo’s, you guide him just out of reach of splashing waves.

————— ୨୧ —————

🏷: @kristaline2dmensimp@vemuabhi@cjm-cookiethief@cipher-p0@undercoverweeb@aykxz98 @ryzio @lavenderkaye106 @chimooky @bolinhodadestruicao @jazminetoad

[bapydemonprincess]

Nightmares turned Real

This is another continuation of my Sebard drabbles thus far. Here's one, two, and three so far. So let's see what the hell happens next...

At this point, Bard knew it was going to happen.

"Good morning, Bardroy..."

Like it had been, every God. Damned. Night.

"Up early again I see..."

He was in the kitchen, just purposefully not doing anything. Standing with arms firmly crossed over his chest.

Everything appeared normal and calm and it seemed so real and natural...

"But of course, I know you never, ever even go to sleep unless you collapse from exhaustion.."

And there was the butler moving slowly into the room, a dark, shadowed beast of a creature hovering closer and closer.

"Almost as if you know you're only safe when you're awake. How sad. How tragic. Isn't it a shame? Don't you wish you could go back to the regular nightmares you used to have?"

The beast's mouth got wider and wider and wider and-

"The nightmares about your wife and son rejecting you. The nightmares where you lose your comrades and friends over and over again due to your inability to protect them. To keep them ALIVE!"

Giant claws bigger than the kitchen table winding around him, gripping him. As the beast laughed and laughed.

"So tell me... Bardroy... is this better or worse..?"

It's gaping maw wide enough it could most definitely swallow him, and that seemed like what this.. this... DEMON wanted!

"Tell meee Bardroy, tell meeeee... Bardroy.... Bardroy... Baaaaar-"

"BARD, PLEASE WAKE UP!!!"

Pain smashed into the back of Bard's skull seconds after he'd finally come to, saw a flash of the bedroom in the dimness, and also Finny right in front of him, hands surrounding him.

It seems the young gardener had tried... shaking him awake.

A bit too roughly, he might add, as he groaned and touched the back of his head, which had likely hit the bed headboard during that shaking.

"Christ, Finny.."

Thankfully, no blood, though.

"Ohh, thank goodness!! You were thrashing around so much and talking in your sleep you woke me! I.. I'm so sorry I had to wake you that way but.. it looked really bad."

"Eh," Bard sighed, sitting up further and twisting his neck to crack it, "no 'arm done. I've had worse. Er... thank yer fer wakin' me. It.. was pretty bad."

Finny stared on with those big green eyes of his, clasping his hands in front of him.

"Do you.. wanna talk about it, Bard??"

The older man flushed and groaned swiping a hand down his face and then proceeding to slump over, covering his face with both hands.

"No." He mumbled from behind them.

"...Oh, um, o-okay."

He heard Finny hesitantly shuffling away from his bed.

"Well... um.. I hope you don't have another bad dream, Bard okay?? N-Night niiight!"

And the boy was already back into his own bed.

...

...

..

Bard sighed deeply, and finally fully got out of bed.

He needed a smoke.

...

And maybe a shot of whiskey to calm him down further.

Sebastian knew it was likely about time to go pick up deal with Bard.

Especially when the mental emotional connection was growing so wrought with turmoil and frustration, the demon could not concentrate on anything else even if he tried.

And by Satan he had tried. And tried. And tried

He made his way to where he sensed the man. In the kitchen.

At the Witching Hour, no less.

And there were three bottles of bourbon.

Two empty.

One almost.

And Bardroy was nursing the third.

And looking ready to slide right out of his chair in the process.

"...Bardroy."

"Huh..?"

The chef lulled his head over to look at the butler by the doorway, and in the darkness of the quiet manor kitchen, only a tiny smidgen of moonlight glinting through the windows over the sink, his eyes shimmered as if they had been flooded with water. Yet not.

They were glassy. Distant.

But he certainly did notice the butler there.

"What the devil has lead you to.. this?"

Bard stared on, as if processing very slowly this question.. if he was at all..

And then his shoulders and chest shook.

He huffed.

And again. And again.

And then he barked out a short, loud crack of a laugh.

"Ohhhh, what the devil.... what the devilll indeed...."

He lifted his whiskey bottle bearing hand as if in a toast directed at Sebastian.

"That's good! That's... that's... fuck me, I can't believe fuckin' it."

"You cannot believe wh-"

"STILL you linger, when've gone an' tried EVERYTHIN' in me power t'get rid o' you. You FUCKIN' ingrate, you. Fuck. Christ. Fuckin'..."

He laughed again, a bit more sounding like a sob.

"Christ.. I'm... Why BOTHER sayin' it..."

He lifted his head to look up at the dark kitchen ceiling and spread his arms out briefly.

"HE AIN'T HELPIN'."

When he dropped his arms his hand clutching the bottle almost carelessly dragged and tilted the bottle, to almost spill the remaining contents.

...

Sebastian waited a second longer to see if he had any more confusing ramblings to say, and when he didn't the butler took a step closer.

"Let's get you to bed, Bard. You'll need your rest when you sober up tomorrow."

"Yeah, was' happenin' tomorrow?"

"Well, work is happening tomorrow. Your job is happening tomorrow."

Bard laughed again.

But it almost sounded fake this time.

"Fuck. Off."

He sighed.

Sebastian sighed as well.

He could feel his temple starting to throb.

...It was much too early to already have a headache over Bardroy.

The butler took another step closer, and this time, he blew out the designated candelabra in his grasp and set it down on the kitchen table.

And then he pulled out a seat and sat down.

Crossing his legs and entwining his hands in his lap, Sebastian stared across the table to this drunken wastrel of a human.

A human he'd incidentally formed a bloody mating bond with no less.

"Alright, I'll bite," the demon muttered, and glowered at Bardroy with his true eyes.

His red, scathing gaze.

"You've clearly seen that little symbol on my hand, as well as the nails, and you've likely always suspected I wasn't human."

Sebastian tilted his head and raised an eyebrow.

"So, your first instinct is not to confront me or run, but simply to wallow in the knowledge and then promptly drink yourself away into... naiveté? Into forgetting what you've learned?"

"Nah... no.. not really." Bard growled, twisting the bottle around on the table and glaring at it all the while.

"Just t'do something to deal with it... 'Cause I can't. Fuckin'. Do anythin' else about it."

"You can't?"

"No..."

"Whyever not?"

The man scoffed.

"Wh-what am I gonna do? Try t'kill a fuckin' demon? Try to save everyone?? Like anyone'd believe me if I tried fuckin' just SAYIN' the butler's a literal demon. They- They'd just think I'm jus' BITTER. Just fuckin' the usual trite. The same ol' song an' dance..."

Sebastian frowned to himself, thinking on it.

He.. had to admit, the man had a point.

"But still, you are one for action. You know more than anyone that action speaks louder than words, yes? That's what's helped you survive all this time, after all."

...

For some reason this line seemed to twist the man's mind into further hysterics.

"Yeah, yeah yeah yeah..... YOU tellin' me that. Ain't that a laugh, innit... Figures this bloody nightmare shit is gettin' fuckin'.. fucked up like that, eh.."

""Nightmare shit"..?"

"Next you'll be fuckin'.. tryin' t'come at me an' kiss me again, tell me t'forget it all an'... I don' fuckin' know, turn me to a demon, too or summin'.."

The demon in question scowled.

"I'm not a vampire, come now..."

"YEAH? WELL.... WHAT IF THEY'RE REAL TOO, EH?? AN' WHAT OF WOLFMEN, AN' FUCKIN'..WITCHES an' WARLOCKS an'.."

"Bardroy witches and warlocks were real, they were merely humans who practiced early-"

"SHUT UP, YOU STUPID FUCKIN' BITCH OF A ... BEAST... AUGHH..."

He'd thrown the bottle and Sebastian had merely twisted in his seat to avoid contact.

But he sighed and looked over at where it had hit the wall and the glass and liquid was sliding down, staining it.

"I believe now is a good time to call it a night, come on now, you need to sleep."

Sebastian stood and moved to get around the table and grab the man.

But once again the man was yelling and picked up one of the empty bottles and threw it at the butler.

Sebastian weaved away again, and kept moving closer.

And then once more Bard grabbed the last and started to throw.

Sebastian was just in time to grip his hand and squeeze, preventing with just enough strength the man's ability to properly tear his hand away and do anything.

And Bardroy growled and grit his teeth like an angry little dog.

And his entire face was going red.

And Sebastian could see the veins standing out in his temple and his arms muscles clenching at the strain.

And he waited. And waited. Just holding.

Until finally Bard nearly collapsed.

Not back into the chair but almost collapsing to the floor as his arm and entire body finally gave out.

But the demon had promptly dove in to firmly wrap his free arm around the man, stabilizing him.

...

Well.. not really...

The bottle was forgotten in the demon's care for the man in his grasp still collapsing to the kitchen floor, on his knees, eyes by now shut tight and his mouth gaping as he gasped and then cried out in frustration and pain.

All because he couldn't throw a whiskey bottle at the demon.

The demon.. didn't seem to be dealing with strain from all this, but was still grimacing.

And then Bard let out a sob.

"Jus' leave me alone... jus' leave me... I... I wanna be alone I wanna... st.. stop... please..."

He wobbly pushed against the demon, but it only incidentally thrust him into the butler's livery as the butler wrapped both arms now around him.

They both sat there on their knees as Bard sobbed and blubbered and drooped against him.

And the demon... awkwardly tried.. rubbing his back and shushing him.

And Bard opened his eyes a crack, while tears still flooded out over his sharp grizzled cheeks, and stared into the muddled foreground in the dark as he sobbed and let himself be held.

"This innit real... no.... god why.... this innit real, this is jus'.. God.."

Sebastian sighed again.

Did.. Bardroy think he was having another nightmare?

He wasn't entirely surprised.

"Oh you poor old fool.."

He decided then, in that moment, if the man didn't think this moment was real...

"I'm truly sorry Bardroy, that it has to be this way. To be this.. rough and unfair..."

He'd indulge a tiny bit.

"After all, I myself didn't plan for my own teasing and counter teasing to lead to this."

He moved one hand to Bard's short scruffy hair, and dragged his gloved fingers through it.

"To this inevitable song and dance; a mating bond, and your discovery of my contract with the young master all in one."

He couldn't help even moving in closer, hovering lips and nose up close enough to have that hair tickle him.

And then bury his face there.

"...Wha?"

The man sounded confused as well as groggy.

Likely exhausted by now.

The demon hummed a purr now. He couldn't hold back.

"But despite all of this frustrating and pointless drama and angst on your part in response... I wish nothing but to keep you."

He'd let his voice dip to those inhuman growls of his real voice, as he practically kissed the man's head all over, and then pulled back to grip Bard's chin and look into his eyes.

"I want you to be my life mate. I'm satisfied that you fit the bill perfectly."

The mortal man in his grip blinked. Slowly.

"I... I don't.. this is... new..."

Sebastian smiled and nipped at his nose and then kissed his forehead.

"It is. But don't worry. Just let it be, Bard."

He had to grip him more as the man slouched further, finally giving in to unconsciousness.

'You've got so much more to worry about than a demon professing to you..."

After a few seconds of holding the man and listening for his breath to even out, his heart beat to settle, Sebastian finally tore his gaze away from him to look around in the early, early morning light at the mess in the kitchen now.

"...Like how you'll be worked overtime for this."

[brutalmasks]

@bucketkicked asked: [ 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭 ] : sender is asking if they can touch receiver sexually. -Irene!!

fresh from a bath in the nearest river (hey, a girl's got to bathe somehow and getting plumbing in a cave? it was near to impossible), bunny mask entered her cave seemingly feeling at least twice as better than she did before. and the fact that irene was supposed to be coming over soon too? well, that honestly put her in an even more cheerier mood; for the other woman and her really seemed to connect the more they talked as well as spent time with one another. plus, the fact that irene is very attractive was just the icing on the cake for bunny mask, in all honesty. she'd hardly been able to hold herself back from asking her out the second or third time she saw her... and i say that because bunny had worried that perhaps she would be coming off too strong if she did that.

but after deciding to invite her to a covert date, bunny mask found out that irene seemed to return her affections in full. which was honestly both nerve-wracking and exciting in the same stretch. bunny felt like if she could blush, she would just thinking about irene right now, actually. she hugged the robe she was wearing closer to her as she entered her cave; sliding the two large barn-like doors that granted her some privacy from the rest of the world open, only to see that irene was here early. and she was only in a robe, bunny mask thought to herself, as her heart beat quickened. but in a good way. she let out a sound that bunny mask always tried to replicate but could never quite get right: a laugh.

❝ ahh, i am sorry i am not decent, irene. i did not anticipate you would be here when i returned — ❞ she had barely enough time to get those words out before irene was coming close to her, then asked her four fateful words with an undertone of arousal to them: 'can i touch you?' bunny mask could also see the desire in the other's eyes and it made a fire start to grow deep within her belly. she wanted to be touched by her, yes, so she slowly closed the distance between them and untied her robe; it immediately falling open a fair amount as bunny wrapped an arm around irene's neck. she was breathless already at the question, part of her breasts and pussy exposed to irene.

❝ yes. yes, please touch me. especially while you're looking at me like that, ❞ bunny took one of the other's hands and gently placed it on her breast. ❝ i trust you, and i honestly think i may be smitten with you, so you can touch me anywhere you'd like. ❞

[whore4jasontodd]

Joseph Morgan smut

I never really see any Joseph Morgan smut so why not make some ~btw I’m not the best at this so bare with me

*third person pov*

Y/n and Joseph have been a little distant lately where he still has to finish filming the originals

It hasn’t really been the best for y/n her instagram comments are full of fat jokes

Why? Bcuz everyone is jealous of her relationship with Joseph everyone was still stuck on the one ship in the vampire diaries klaroline

Did it hurt her a little? Yes ofc she loves Joseph with everything in her

*y/ns pov*

Im laying in bed like usual waiting for Joseph to get back from filming it’s currently 10:00 am I decent to go on instagram knowing it’s not the best decision ex specially with all of the hate knowing I’m going to start getting insecure again and oh boy was I right

Hundreds of comments calling me fat,ugly, people saying Joseph deserves better, or that I’m to young for him I am 25 yes that’s a 16 year age gap but if he doesn’t have a problem with it should It really matter

Everyone truly believes I’m just after him bcuz he’s famous no he came to me at a time when I needed someone and I fell inlove with him

As I finish reading the comments I feel tears feel up my eyes i figured it’s better if I turned off my phone and layed down so that’s what I did and soon dosed off

It was around 11:00 when I heard the door open I knew he was home but tried to fall back to sleep but after a few minutes I feel the other side of the bed dip and arms wrap around me

Y/n luv are you awake? I hear his soft British accent echo in my ears I soon feel his hand slowly come to my face rubbing my dried tears

“Luv I know your awake I can tell when your faking you know” he says in a soft tone

I slowly open my eyes to see Joseph already looking at me

“Why have you been crying sweetheart”he says sounding concerned

Just stuff but I’m glad your home” I sigh cuddling into his arms

It’s the comments again isn’t it? I didn’t answer him but I knew he could feel me nod into his chest

“My sweet girl don’t listen to then your nothing of those thing they say , you are the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen, you are the one I love” his voice spoke soft and sounded so innocent

“Joseph?”

“Yes my luv”

“Do you think I’m too young for you or not good enough?” I spoke quietly

“Of course not I wouldn’t be here right now if I truly believed what any of them said” his words followed a kiss connecting to my forehead

“And if you don’t believe my words then let ne show you princess” his lips soon connected to my lips

Our tongues slide together his hands going to the side of my face pulling me closer

He soon pulls me over onto his lap

His hands go down to my hips gripping them pushing me down on his lap

I can feel him poking me through his sweats as his hands much there way up my shirt taking it off and unclipping my bra

After he gets my top half fully undressed he flips us over so he’s hovering over me

“Ahh what a beautiful site” he says but doesn’t sound very innocent anymore

His mouth connects to my breast, his tongue swirling around my nipple

I could feel his hands going down to my pants slowly sliding them down and off my ankle leaving me in nothing but my thong

“I think these will have to go luv” he spoke hooking his fingers around them taking them off like he did with my pants

As he hovers over me his eyes scan my body I soon start remembering all of the comments making me feel like I’m fat I put my over my stomach but he jerks up back up above my head

“Ahh what do you think your doing sweetheart?”

“Uh-nothing” I spoke out shyly

“That’s what I thought now be a good girl and keep your hands up there tonight is about you” his lips connect to my neck making there way down farther and farther until they make it to where I need him most

He slowly spreads my legs placing his lips on mine ;)

“ I can’t believe this is all mine” he started off with sticking one digit in but it soon turns into two

At this point I’m a moaning mess his mouth lapping me at clit like its his last meal and his fingers pumping in and out of me I feel my stomach tighten I know I’m close

“So tight and wet for me are you close yet my luv”

I couldn’t even get out an yes without screaming as I came around his fingers

As I’m a panting mess he makes me look him in the eyes as he kisses me lining his self up with me he asks

“Is this okay sweetheart”

“ god yes please I need you” I didn’t have to say that twice before he started pounding in and out of me

I throw my head back my back arching digging my nails into his back and every thrust made me moan louder and louder as I got closer

“Fuck luv so tight who’s pussy is this”

I couldn’t anwser the pleasure slowly took over my body

“I said who’s pussy is this” he grunts out

“All yours it’s all yours daddy” I scream out

“Good girl”

That was enough for me I came all over his cock

He falls down in the bed beside me

“God that was amazing”

“Fuck yeah” I saw cuddling into his chest

As I close my eyes I realize I haven’t took my birth control and he didnt pull out

“Omg Joseph”

“What’s wrong?” He jumps up worried

“You didnt pull out”

“Aren’t you off birth control”

“No Joseph we talked about it I thought we both agreed I was gonna stop taking it for a while”

“So you could get pregnant?” He asks as he starts to smile

“Yeah” I sigh

“ you don’t want to have a kid?”

“Ofc I want to have a kids but what if you don’t and you leave?” I spoke quietly

“I want to start a family with you more the anything princess” he says raising up kissing me

[wellthebardsdead]

Clockwork Heart pt24

Part 23 here

———

Wyrm: *sitting at his desk, swaddled in a thick blanket and staring at voryn in awe as the chimer repairs his mechanical arm with the parts he’d taken from Mzulft* how did you do that?!

Voryn: *smiles as he tests the new joints he’d made with tiny dwemer spheres, making it function like a ball jointed dolls limb* Ah, I suppose you don’t remember any of sotha sils work, he was very fond of the dwemer and like myself and neht, befriended them. Seht was a brilliant scholar and architect, he thrived with our deep elven cousins and would often accompany Nerevar and myself on our visits to Dumac. Though… that was of course before everything went wrong between our people. *sighs and lifts the blanket from Wyrms body before fitting the arm to him* But, I did learn a thing or two from them myself.

Wyrm: Its beautiful. *smiles up at him* what was he like? Dumac?

Voryn: He was kind, always welcoming and excited for our visits. There were times he’d rush from his throne and take the lift up to greet us before we even had a chance to climb from our silt striders. He was fond of games, food, drink. Everything was fine until Kagrenac ruined it all… *sighs* He was closer with Neht then me, I’m sure he can tell you more but… I know it broke his heart when Dumac sided with the grand architect over him.

Wyrm: I think, he maybe thought he was doing what was best for his people, maybe he thought it’d benefit the chimer too? As a leader he’d have to put his people first right?

Voryn: not when doing what you think is right spits in the face of the gods. The good daedra warned them, the aedra warned them. And they ignored it all. And look at what happened to them. *looks down at the arm as he adjusts the shoulder harness*

Wyrm: *his Pearl eye flashing blue for just a moment* they’re screaming.

Voryn: *eyes snapping to look at him again* what?…

Wyrm: *literally didn’t even notice he’d spoken or remembered doing so* what?

Voryn: you just? I… never mind. *smiles deciding not to press further* can you move your arm for me? Let me see if it needs adjusting.

Wyrm: *looks down at the arm and tries to flow his magic through it only for it to grasp onto nothing, leaving it hanging there, limp* it’s? It’s not working.

Voryn: hm. *rubs his temple and closes his third eye* Perhaps I missed a step, no I’m sure I didn’t. I labelled the tendon wires correctly and the spheres should activate with the condui- The conduit oh gods I’m stupid this won’t work.

Wyrm: I? A conduit?

Voryn: Yes. Aetherium. *sighs* Though that material is more precious than ebony. Only the deep elves knew how to harness it, never mind refine it small enough to fit inside of the shoulder mechanism.

Wyrm: oh! I have some!

Voryn: i- *opens his third eye in surprise* you do?

Wyrm: *nods and smiles sliding out of his chair and running to his rucksack, only to finally notice everyone else’s bags minus voryns and nehts are missing* huh?…

Voryn: Wyrm?

Wyrm: *pulls the small aetherium shard from his bag before looking at Voryn with tears welling up in his eyes* m-my friends are g-gone? Wh-where’s their stuff?

Voryn: *finally notices their stuff is gone too, thinking they must have left when they were napping* Oh Wyrm, I’m sure it’s fine come, come here don’t cry.

Wyrm: *shakily walks to him, body still weak and sore and now his heart hurting equally as much making Voryn grimace a little in pain* th-they left me… d-did I do something wrong? I thought… I… m-maybe they weren’t, my friends. M-maybe they decided their debts were paid and they didn’t want to put up with m-

Voryn: *pulls him into his lap and holds him close* Shhh. Deep breaths now, let’s not spill more tears just yet. *dries his eyes already seeing them spill* I’m sure there’s a perfectly reasonable explanation- *looks at the door as nerevar enters* Speaking of which.

Nerevar: *holding dinner for the three of them* Oh! Good you’re awake- *goes quiet seeing wyrm on the verge of a heart wrenching meltdown that could potentially kill Voryn if he’s not careful*

Voryn: Where’d the others go? Neht. *strokes Wyrms hair back behind his ears as he turns his attention back to him*

Nerevar: *deciding it’d be best not to tell the whole truth* The arch mage had some work for them. Said it was related to Ancano but wouldn’t let me press for details. They wanted to have Wyrm join them but, well neither of you are fit for travel or battle at the moment. They should be back in a couple days. *walks to the desk setting the food down* and you both should be restin-

Wyrm: *shakily grabs his wrist, barely holding in the hiccups already developing from how hard he’s trying to keep himself calm* th-they’re coming back?…

Nerevar: *realising what’s causing him distress finally* Yes I- Oh Wyrm no, no they wouldn’t abandon you, they wouldn’t leave forever without saying goodbye. *kneels down to display more comfort and sympathy in his posture* they’ll come back and everything will be okay.

Wyrm: *sniffles and nods feeling more at ease now* o-okay. *let’s go of his hand and rubs his eyes feeling silly for getting so worked up* i-i was scared I’d lost my friends again…

Voryn: again?

Wyrm: *nods and points to the boxes on his shelves* I had to pull them apart… A-ancano stole my book one night and- I lost control of myself when I couldn’t find it… they nearly destroyed the arcanum with them, s-so savos made me pull them apart… I only got to keep mr wrench. *looks at the dwarven spider now holding onto the aetherium shard waiting for instruction* and Onmund, J’zargo and Brelyna are nice too but… I’m scared I’ll annoy them too much and I was scared- i-i annoyed or upset the others into leaving too.

Nerevar: *clenching his jaw ready to snap Ancanos neck and feeling anger rumble within his chest that anyone could find him annoying* Oh wyrm, no…

Voryn: *picks up the blanket and wraps it around wyrm once more* Theyd never find you annoying little scrib, we’d never find you annoying either. *gently unbuckles the arm from him* Why don’t we have dinner and I’ll finish your arm before bed? I think I remember how to install the conduit.

Wyrm: y-yes please. *blinks looking up at the door as it opens allowing Enthir to help Urag into the room to join them for dinner* papa!

Urag: *looks over to see his sons tear stained face* … *picks up his cane* Which one of you did it?!

Enthir: BABE NO!

*a few hours later*

Wyrm: *Unable to sleep, nestled in bed beside voryn, everyone agreeing it’d be best for him to stay close to the high councillor in his sleep until they can figure out what’s causing his nightmares* … *rolls onto his side and looks over at his desk and his new arm glowing ever so slightly with the aetherium powering it, but still brightly enough to illuminate nerevars empty bedroll beside it* huh?… *sits up and slides out of bed, whole body wobbling as he gets his bearings* nerevar?…

???: the labyrinthian?…

???: there’s no way they’ll come back alive why did you lie to him like that?

Wyrm: huh?… *walks to the hole in his wall and peers out to see nerevar, Urag and Enthir standing in the arcanum, their only light the bright glow of a magelight between them*

Nerevar: would you rather I tell him they left towards certain death to protect him? He was on the verge of tears thinking they’d abandoned him how could I possibly hurt him like that?

Enthir: He’ll need to know the truth eventually-

Urag: he’s right… *sighs* he’s not well, and if we deliver him news like this while he’s still vulnerable it might kill him, or kill everyone else with whatever this curse is that’s afflicting him… *looks up at nerevar* But they’re a capable bunch… don’t particularly like any of them but… they kept my boy alive. And he likes them… he’s got a good sense for people. I’m sure they’ll come back fine… *glances slightly at the hole in the wall letting them know he’s aware Wyrm is spying*

Wyrm: *quickly ducks away from the wall as Enthir and neht turn to look* oh no… oh no no no- *hurries back to bed and climbs in trying to come up with a plan to leave unnoticed*

Voryn: *jumps a little feeling the dunmer scurry under the covers* wyrm? Are you okay?…

Wyrm: y-yes I- h-had to use the bathroom I’m okay. *snuggles up close and pouts a little as voryn pulls him closer, realising how hard it’s going to be to escape without waking him up now*

Voryn: *yawns sensing a some distress from Wyrm but chalking it up to his friends sudden absence or a possible fear of the dark or even going back to sleep and the potential nightmares returning* okay, go back to sleep little Pearl…

Wyrm: okay… *sighs and snuggles in close, his ears twitching as he hears the door open and nerevar enter again*

Nerevar: *walks to the bed and leans down kissing voryns lips softly and earning a soft tired smile in response* did I wake you?…

Voryn: mmm, no, Wyrm just needed the bathroom. *opens his eyes and yawns with a content sleepy expression*

Nerevar: *looks at him and then Wyrm before smiling as he sees the young dunmer clearly trying to fake being asleep* I see. *leans down brushing his fringe out of his face and giving his forehead a soft kiss making Wyrm scrunch up his nose in surprise as he struggles to keep up his pretending* good night little dragon. *chuckles softly before giving voryn one more kiss and returning to his bedroll*

Wyrm: *sighs and relaxes again back into voryn as he tries to formulate a plan, only to realise he actually needs to use the bathroom now* …Aw biscuits.

*a few hours later*

Wyrm: *testing the movement in the fingers of his new arm one more time before pulling on his cloak and picking up his bag* okay… *places his hand on the door knob and looks back at his room one more time to see Voryn & Nerevar fast asleep* …I’ll come back… *opens the door and walks into the arcanum before walking to his fathers room and peering in to find Enthir & Urag, both sleeping soundly* …I’m s-sorry papa… *places a note on the night stand* I love you… *creeps out of the room and through the library before heading down the stairs and out into the courtyard, the cold night air chilling his weakened body to the bone* I can do this… *walks towards the bridge slowly, heart in his throat, and then nearly exploding out of his mouth as strong hands grab him from behind and he screams in fright before spinning around and slapping his assailant hard across the face with his mechanical hand* LET ME GO!!! *pulls away as the tall figure staggers back revealing who he already knew they were*

Ancano: *holding his face in surprise at how much that hurt* Gods you little-

Wyrm: Don’t you touch me! Don’t you EVER touch me again! *staggers back holding onto his bag strap tight* e-everything bad that’s happened to me! It’s all been your fault!

Ancano: *eyes flashing with intrigue at his little pearls sudden bravery* My, my, where did this attitude come from? All my fault how? *steps forward*

Wyrm: FUS-

Ancano: What th-

“RO DAH!!!”

Voryn: *jolts up in the bed to see nerevar already on his feet holding his sword* What- Wyrm?! Where’s Wyrm?!

Nerevar: he’s in danger it came from outside!

Enthir: *already running out to the courtyard pulling on his slippers as he goes while Urag follows after him and the rest of the college emerges*

Urag: *holding the note from his night stand and moving as fast as he can as tears cloud his vision* no not again- not again please! *hurries out to find snow cleared from the court yard by a great force, and his son, and nobody else in sight* Pup…

*meanwhile*

Wyrm: *running through the village as lights illuminate windows, everyone waking up from the blast, his body already beginning to lose steam from just how weakened he really is* no- come on- please- *reaches his arm out for nerevars horse as he approaches the stables, the cold air stinging his lungs and blurring his vision… the pounding of his heart doing wonders to block out the sound of crunching snow as a strange figure approaches and bashes him in the head with the blunt end of their spear, knocking him unconscious* Ugh- *collapses in the snow*

???: *stares down at him before gently rolling him onto his back and fixing his cloak to keep him warm* I thought you were supposed to be smarter than me, Seht… why would you be so foolish?… *looks up hearing panicked voices of his loved ones approaching* They will return… They are not careless with your heart. *smiles down at him before suddenly disappearing with the chime of a bell*

*meanwhile*

Ancano: *nearly falls off the ladder entering the midden before dropping to his knees and gritting his teeth as he splints his broken arm* Little-sh-shit. Wh-when did he learn how to do that? Ngh- *coughs up what he firsts thinks is phlegm from being hit so aggressively, only to taste blood on his tongue* It seems I’ll need to teach you some manners again, little Pearl… *smirks* at least 3 of my problems will be out of the picture permanently… now to get rid of the other 4… *resets his broken arm and holds in a pained groan*

*A few days later, in the depths of the labyrinthian*

Taliesin: *laying prone next to Kaidan & Inigo after being ambushed at the end of the barrow by estormo, fairly certain his friends are dead, unable to move, only stare up at the other high elf as they take the staff of Magnus from his paralysed grasp* i-I’ll s-slaughter y- you once th-this wears off.

Estormo: *smirks down at him, twirling the staff in his fingers* it’s a shame. You’re not even worth enough to earn me a promotion by killing you. But, I suppose I’ll enjoy it regardless~ *raises up the staff bludgeoning him in the head with it repeatedly until he goes still* that felt good. *looks back at his men awaiting his orders* alright, let’s get going. *pauses thinking he heard a bell chime* …

Guard: sir?

Estormo: …Its nothing. *feels a chill run down his spine remembering the stranger in the blizzard* let’s go… *walks out of the barrow with them, oblivious to the hooded stranger walking to team dragonborns aid*

???: *stands over the three of Wyrms friends, poking them with the real staff of Magnus and smiling as they sense life* Your time hasn’t come yet. Seht needs you still, Wyrm needs you still… *leans down and gently starts healing them all the while looking at the door where estormo left*

Taliesin: *groans softly in his unconscious state* wyrm… my… little moth…

???: *looks back at him and smiles warmly, the oil lamp light illuminating their half gold and blue lips* He misses you… he ran to your rescue despite knowing he’d die before reaching you… *strokes the high elfs cheek, cleaning the blood away* please, don’t break his heart… *looks back to the doorway sensing estormos presence fading* For being such a dickhead, you’d think he’d know a dick just by holding one, even if it is a bit pointy…

[splatterofdepression]

Naughty kind of fun~ (Miguel O'hara x reader)

（｡･ω･｡)つ━☆・*°。+ *🎀

warning: +18 (so if ur not, get outa here, buddy), thigh fucking, penetrative, blowjob, cumming in the mouth, finger fucking, etc... 🤨🤨😔

(I wrote it, haha but credits to jaex0x0smikle anyways.) also to note: wrote this a while ago, used some posts on tumblr for inspiration (paraphrased for the vibrator and thigh parts!)... pls comment if u can find who's it is cause i wanna give them full credits :(

btw i was like half dead because i wanted to die from the amount of hw i had and needed a writing break :(

🚶

HAVE FUN Y'ALL

dunno how to write the captions, my bad :(

type a comment if you want some more 😉

[Dom Miguel, Sub (ish) reader]  

（｡･ω･｡)つ━☆・*°。+ *🎀

"Hey, baby..." Miguel leaned against the door frame, his eyes sliding over your new dress. He licked his lips and smiled. "You certainly look delicious..."

"Not so bad yourself..." You say, trying to not squirm under Miguel's unwavering gaze. You look at his handsome face, the chiseled features and broad shoulders made him look strong. Matched with the black and white suit he was wearing, Miguel was handsome. Extremely so. You coughed and looked away, trying to not seem like you were ready to pounce on him. You could already feel the heat rushing to my face. "You look... very handsome tonight..."

"Hmm... but have you tried yourself in a mirror lately, sweetheart?" Miguel smirked, his eyes sparkling with mischief. He moved closer, placing his hand on the small of your back. "I'm dying to see what's underneath, babe..."

"Come on, we don't have time for this. Pavitr's party is going to start at 8:00!" You push him away playfully, but he huffs impatiently. 

"We still have more than two hours- that's plenty of time." 

"We both know that if we start now, we'll end up spending the entire night instead of just two hours." You quickly clapped a hand over your mouth. You blush, embarrassed. 

"Oh really~?" His husky voice made me shiver, his hot breath blowing against your ear. The way Miguel towered over you was scary- but also thrilling.

"Y-yeah." You avoided his eyes, but he lifted your chin up to his face. Miguel's gaze bore into you as his jaw tightened. 

"Please? I'm begging you..." He stepped forward, pushing you against the wall with one arm. He leaned forward, planting a kiss on your neck. His body pushed against you, his body heat slowly rising as he stared hungrily. You could feel your breath quicken too, eager to keep on going, but you couldn't just ditch Pavitr's without a notice.

"Fine. I'll send a message to Pavitr." You start to head for your phone, but Miguel stops you.

"What do you think you're doing when the fun already started?" Miguel's eyes were piercing, trapping you in place. He shoved a hand against the wall and bent down to be eye level with you. Suddenly, his voice becomes gentle, "Do you want me to keep going? I'll stop if you don't... there's no rush."

"a-ah... no. You can um- continue..." Your heart beat so fast it felt like it was going to leap out of your chest. It was only the third time you guys ever had intimacy, and it still felt so alien to you. Without knowing what to do, you say, "Let's have some fun."

"Oh really?" Miguel asked, licking his lips as he looked at you with a mischievous grin. "And what kind of fun did you have in mind, sweetheart?..." Miguel moved a piece of hair behind your ear, lightly tracing a trail down to your shoulder.

"A naughty kind of fun..." You smirked at him. This side of you never showed except for moments like these. 

"Oh?" Miguel purred, his eyes glittering. "How naughty?..." He leaned down to gently nibble and tug at your ear, his lips brushing against your neck. "Do you want me to make a good girl out of you, sweetheart?"

You shiver at the closeness of Miguel. "Yes, please~"

"Mhm..." Miguel pressed himself against you, his voice husky as he spoke. "Are you a naughty girl, baby?" Miguel's teeth flashed, his body trembling with desire. He reached out and ran his hand along your waist.

You move closer to him, "Only for you~" As his hand trailed along your curves, you decided to be more bold. "I'll keep you up all night long..." your whisper shocked Miguel, but in a good way.

"Oooh~" Miguel purred, his voice going lower. "How long will you even be able to keep me up, sweetheart?..." He chuckled. "Hmm... maybe you want me to... push... your... buttons?..." Miguel paused to let his words sink in. He leaned forward, nibbling gently on your ear.

You whine softly, burying your head into Miguel's chest. "Yes please... daddy~" Instantly, you regret saying that. He was going to tease you to death after tonight.

"Hmm?..." Miguel chuckled, his eyes sparkling. "Oh did you say something, sweetheart?..." A small smirk danced on his lips, a hand traveling across your thigh. "You're such a tease~"

He brought his hand down from the wall, gently grabbing your hips and tossing you onto the couch. "Hmm... I'll teach you a lesson..." Miguel crawled over and pinned you down to the sofa, looking at you with a small smirk. You start to undress, lifting up your skirt slowly. 

Miguel's eyes widened as he glanced at your legs. His tongue ran across his bottom lip, a hand moving to caress your thigh. His voice sounded husky, his gaze traveling up your leg.

"I wore your favourite lingerie- just in case this would happen..."

"Oh really~?" Miguel purred, his eyes glistening. He leaned forward to nibble along your shoulder, his fingers digging into the soft skin. "Hmm, I don't believe you, babe... I'm gonna have to take a look for myself, sweetheart..." 

"Go ahead~" You say, before he suddenly yanks off your underskirt. You squeak, surprised. Instinctively, you squeeze your legs together, face flushed red from the unexpectedness. Miguel chuckled, moving his leg between your thighs. 

"Are you ready, sweetheart?" He said, his voice low and husky as he looked down at you.

You gasped softly, wrapping your legs around his waist. "Yes~"

Miguel smiled, his eyes glimmering with desire as he looked down at you. His arms surrounded your waist, holding you firmly in place. One of his hands moved to caress your hair, while the other went down to untie your lace dress. "You just have to let go... let me take charge, baby..." His gaze looked hungry, his eyes staring at you as if you were a feast. His eyes wandered over your body. 

Miguel's arms supported your weight as you straddled him. His hands traced the curves of your hips and thighs, teasing you. Miguel purred, his lips traveling over your neck. His teeth lightly scraped against your skin as he ran his tongue along your neck. "I need you to tell me what you want, baby..." He paused, nipping gently at your throat. His breath went against you, his lips grazing your ear. "Tell me... what... do you want?"

----

YOU CAN STOP HERE! EXIT THIS CHAPTER NOW IF YOU DON'T WANT TO SEE ANY MORE SMUT

No?

Ok. 

You've been warned 😨

----

"I guess I need to loosen you up first..." Miguel opens one of the cabinets next to the TV, taking out a pink vibrator and lube. You could already feel you were wet enough to not use lube, but Miguel always stood by the phrase, "The wetter, the better." 

He placed the vibrator between your legs, rubbing it against your thigh. "Spread your legs." Miguel says, and you immediately sit up a little more, leaning against the cushion and widening your legs. He rubbed your clit softly, blowing against it. You squirm, letting out a small moan. The lube was cold as Miguel massaged it into you. His fingers were long, pressing against all the sensitive areas he knew you loved. He slowly drew his fingers in and out of your pussy, quickening the pace. Starting with 2 fingers, then adding another. 

"A-ah~ Miguel~" You panted, grasping at Miguel's arm. You could see his ears go red, and the bulge in his pants get even bigger. 

"Ready?" Miguel tapped the tip of the wand against your clit, and your hips squirm a bit, a squeak leaving your mouth. As Miguel pushes the vibrator in, he turns up the intensity of vibration- making you jerk your head back. Every moan that escaped your mouth made Miguel's bulge grow larger and harder. 

"You should see yourself right now..." he was panting quietly, eyes looking eager to thrust into you. "I'm not sure how much longer I can wait."

He took fun in seeing how long you could last before coming, raising the intensity of the vibrator, eating up the expressions you made. Your core tightened around the vibrator, and an electric shock passed through your body. 

"a-Augnh~ M-miguel! stop~ I-I just-" You couldn't finish your sentence, though, because Miguel was raising the vibrations even higher. You had just came, the sticky juice slowly seeping out of your hole, coating the vibrator. When you realised you were close AGAIN (omg how), you let out a raw moan, "m-more! a-aAh~ faster!" Miguel responded by taking out the vibrator, and switching it off. 

When you finally came back to your senses, you pouted, "Why did you stop? I was about to-" Miguel flipped you over so that you were on your knees, and he unbuckled his belt. His massive dick came into view, and you weren't sure if you could handle it. "Wha-?"

"You can't be the only one having fun, sweetheart." He stroked your hair, leading your face towards his shaft. "Suck it." His voice was so commanding, so you started to lick the tip of his dick, pleasuring in the groans Miguel let out. You swirled your tongue on the head, massaging his balls with your fingers. You looked up at him as he tilted his head backwards, breaths becoming laboured. His pre-cum dripped from the sides of your mouth, tasting slightly salty.

"Your dick is delicious... I'll make sure to savour it~" You say, stroking Miguel's dick with your hand. It didn't even fit in one hand, so you used both, squeezing as you brought your hands up and down his shaft. You placed your tongue on his cock, getting ready to deep throat it. "You're such a-" You bring your mouth down onto Miguel's dick, feeling it hit the back of your throat. Thank god you don't have a gag reflex- cause if you did, you'd be throwing up because of his size. Miguel whipped his head back, letting out a load and high pitched moan. (Not as high as yours, of course...) His eyes widened, and yours did too. You guys looked at each other, both shocked. "I-I didn't mean to-" 

You take Miguel's cock out of your mouth, and smile. "It's okay- I think it was kind of cute." You continued to blow him, loving the whimpers, moans, and sounds that came from him. 

"I th-think I'm close~" Miguel whispered, his hands grabbing at your hair. He brought your head down even further, making your eyes water. But you kept going, bobbing up and down faster and faster until he shoved your face almost all the way to his balls. He groaned loudly, and you could feel him release his white cum inside of your throat. He kept you in that position for a few more seconds, until he let you go, exhausted. 

"Don't tell me you're already done~?" You laugh, placing your hips so he could see your pussy drip. 

"h-hugh... N-no..." Miguel's chest had a faint sheen from the sweat. "I can keep going..."

Miguel looked at your pussy, and he can't control himself anymore. You feel his rough hands grip your hips, harshly pushing him back into you. The plumpness of your ass hits the girthy shaft of his cock, but before you can look for the lost balance with your hands in front of you, he thrusts his erection up against you cunt. You can feel it begin to become rock solid again. 

"Ay, mi amor-" His voice is rugged and laboured, laced with a deep groan. His broad palm hits your butt-cheek, making you gasp. "Te necesito así de mal ahora mismo." (I need you so badly right now.) Miguel slammed inside you, thrusting at a quick pace.

"So tight..." Miguel grunted, his jaw gritted. "...it feels so good..."

You arch your back, the noises coming out of your mouth were low-key embarrassing. It was too big for you to handle, his shaft stretching your pussy so wide as it slammed in and out. The "plap" sounds from him slapping against your pussy was loud in your ears. The vibrator was big, but Miguel's dick was huge compared to it. 

"S-slower... please~" You mewl, eyes watering from the overstimulation. "I-I can't..."

Miguel started thrusting gently, but it still felt like you were being eaten up from the inside. You clench around him, noticing him shudder inside you as you tighten up.

"Tell P-pavitr that w-we aren't coming t-to the party~ a-Ah~" I signal for Miguel to give me my phone so I can text him a message. 

Miguel picks up the phone, ringing Pavitr's phone. 

"What are you doing?!" You hiss, WHY WAS MIGUEL CALLING PAVITR? WHEN YOU'RE HAVING SEX? "Miguel Ohara! S-stop!" 

But Miguel doesn't stop the call with Pavitr, only quickening his hips. Your eyes roll back, arching your back so he could hit your gspot.

"Huh? y/n? Why're you calling?" You could hear Pavitr's voice loud and clear through the speaker. "Miguel? Is that you?"

"Yes. y/n and I can't come to the party tonight..." Miguel clamped a hand over your mouth to prevent you from moaning so loudly. "She'll tell you why."

Your head was spinning from the pleasure, and you couldn't think of a decent excuse. Should you say that you family has an emergency? Or maybe that you got sick? In any case, you know Pavitr is too smart than to believe it. Miguel lowered the phone next to your mouth as he kept on thrusting.

"U-um, we f-forgot that o-our... uaHGh~!" A moan had accidentally escaped from your lips. You cleared your throat. "S-sorry, I-I mmHMm~ I hurt my foot..." 

You turn red from the stupid lie. "H-hope we c-can see y-you soon... nnNGh~!"

"Woah. I know what you're doing, and it doesn't sound like you hurt your foot." Pavitr chuckled, "I understand. Have fun, Miguel. Tell me about it tomorrow."

BEEP. Pavitr had ended the call.

"Miguel! Why did you embarrass me like that!" You bury your face into the coach's cushions, hearing Miguel's deep laugh. 

"Why, you said you wanted to have 'fun', sweetheart." Miguel grinned, slicking his hair back to get a better view of your ass. He took off the condom he had on, tapping his raw cock against your clit. "This is what you asked for~" 

Smiling mischievously, e delivers a rough spank to your plump ass before pushing two fingers over the lips of your pussy, running them over your slit.

"You can't do it raw... I'm not on birth control." You warned, and Miguel's eyes twinkled.

"Let me fuck your thighs then." It took you by surprise, because you thought he would suggest anal or something. 

With caution, he pushed his dick between your thighs while navigating his way to feel your wet folds and making sure he pressed the tip against your clit. Miguel began thrusting himself, keeping a steady rhythm— pre-cum smearing between your legs with each thrust. 

not doneee :)