#Impact Drill for Home

[horsescary]

the first rule of power tool safety is to have fun and be urself

[reasonsforhope]

"A recent court ruling from the Inter-American Court of Human Rights marks the first time an international judicial body has decided that indigenous peoples living in “voluntary isolation” have a right to do so, and that governments must act to ensure that right.

The ruling comes off the back of 20 years of activism challenging the Ecuadorian government’s encroachment on indigenous lands for oil drilling, and this, as well as other extractive activities like logging, were ruled to be intolerably disruptive to three groups living in voluntary isolation in the Ecuadorian Amazon.

International treaties protecting the rights of indigenous peoples have long been ratified at both the UN and the Organization of American States (OAS), but a case specifically determining whether a group living in voluntary isolation, which used to be called “uncontacted,” were guaranteed protection to allow them to continue doing so has never been ruled on.

While the United Nations Human Rights Council in 2009 and the Inter-American Commission on Human Rights in 2013 introduced guidelines and recommendations that included a right to choose self-isolation, neither were put into writing under international law, nor included in any treaty amendments.

As such, the Costa Rica-based court’s decision that nation-states, in this case Ecuador, must follow a “precautionary principle” when making decisions about future oil operations that may impede a group’s ability to live in self-isolation.

“This principle means that, even in the absence of scientific certainty regarding oil exploration and exploitation projects’ impacts on this territory, effective measures must be adopted to prevent serious or irreversible damage, which in this case would be the contact of these isolated populations,” said the court opinion, written in Spanish, and translated by Inside Climate News.

The three groups in question are the Tagaeri, Taromenane, and Dugakaeri, who are part of the overall Waorani peoples since they share cultural traditions and language.

Testimony was heard from a community leader of the Waorani, Penti Baihua, and two young women who at the ages of 2 and 6 were survivors of violent encroachment by oil workers who killed members of the girls’ group, forcibly introduced them to modernity, and displaced them to different parts of the Amazon.

In the current case, the court ruled that a protected area the size of Delaware that was established in the early 2000s to guarantee indigenous Waorani (and others) rights was created in such a way as to leave oil exploration areas outside protection, despite being the ancestral home of Baihua and his people.

A 6-mile deep buffer zone surrounding the heart of the Tagaeri, Taromenane, and Dugakaeri’s territory called the “Intangible Zone,” has been repeatedly penetrated by extractive industries, which have built roads and other “colonial” infrastructure.

The court ruled that Ecuador must honor the results of a 2023 referendum, in which voters chose to stop oil operations in that region indefinitely.

The court used the term “living in voluntary isolation” to reflect that fact that there are no unconctacted tribes on Earth, but perhaps as many as 200 who have seen evidence of modernity, and received minimal contact—perhaps from a related tribe that doesn’t live in isolation—and chose to remain without any interaction with the modern world either out of fear or self-interest."

-via March 28, 2025

[ang3ltine]

"𝐇𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐒𝐨𝐥𝐝𝐢𝐞𝐫" - Sergeant Bucky Barnes x Nurse freader 18+

You and Bucky are invited to a boat party to celebrate his successful mission in Moscow. But you both arrive late due to minor setbacks.

a.n - Bucky has a surprise for you and all the soldiers are in on it. Steve doesn't appear until later on (don't worry it's a wholsome ending!

warnings - hickeys, smut, dirty talk, fingering,Playful dom! Bucky and Sub!freader

The deep resonant blast of a horn could be heard as the military warship for the 107th creaks to a halt.

After a week long mission overseas, they were finally home. As the bridge is pulled out and the soldiers stepped down to meet their loved ones.

You spot a familiar hat amongst the sea of soldiers at the top of the bridge.

Bucky had returned as a hero, so it's no surprise when you spot him with a bunch of cheering soldiers surrounding him. You felt your heart racing as you weave your way through everyone to make it towards the bridge.

"Bucky! Over here!!" You yell and wave your hands up frantically in order to get his attention.

Upon hearing his name, he looks up to see you making your way out of the crowd and towards the bottom of the bridge.

Without a second thought, he excuses himself before practically sprinting down the bridge as you wait for him with outstretched arms.

You almost fall back from the impact as Bucky runs into your embrace. He lifts you off the ground with ease while he buries his face into the crook of your neck. Hearing his steady heartbeat reminded you that he was still alive and had not returned in a casket.

Cheers erupt all around you and behind Bucky as the soldiers surround you both. He peers up at you through wet lashes while you fix his hat and look down at him with loving eyes.

"Thank God you're alive."

"Only because I had you to come home to doll. That's what got me through this war." He whispers as you two press your foreheads together.

You see all the scars and scratches that were carved into his skin due to shrapnel. But you ignore his flaws because he is still your handsome soldier.

Bucky feels your lips all over his face as you press kisses on all his scars.

"Doll stop-- It tickles!!"

He laughs softly at the feeling and knows for sure that there's probably faint lipstick stains left over. Nonetheless, he happily accepts your kisses.

Bucky was heartbroken you couldn't join him on his mission to Moscow. Colonel Philips believed that you should take a break for a while before joining them again.

Speaking of the Colonel.

"Are you two done?" A gruff voice interrupts you both while Bucky sets you back onto the ground.

"Colonel Phillips, we were just uhh...catching up," Bucky answers while giving him a salute and a tight-lipped smile. You cover your mouth to hide your smile with one hand as Philips spots the lipstick marks on Buckys face.

Philips grunts in agreement before turning to you.

"Mr Barnes here thinks that just because he's a war hero now. He gets to skip morning drills and muck around."

Bucky shifts on his feet awkwardly and avoids making eye contact with you while you turn to him to give him a tired look.

"Bucky we talked about this--""I know, I know. It won't happen again."

"It better not." Colonel Philips mumbles under his breath and gives you a curt nod before leaving.

"Come on, soldier boy, let's get you home." You sighed while Bucky links your arm with his with a smug smile.

An invitation got to sent to you in the mail a few days later to celebrate the successful mission.

Bucky was staying over at your rented apartment in London.You had family who lived there so they helped you out.

After failing to convince the Colonel multiple times he finally gave in and let him go.

The party was going to start in less than two hours so you let Bucky rest for a little longer while you got ready.

You picked out a short sleeve off shoulder ivory dress with a layered skirt paired with silk bow heels. Despite it being a casual event.

"Hm? Why're you getting dolled up so early in the morning?" a pair of arms hugged your waist, the voice hoarse from sleeping. Bucky rests his chin atop your shoulder. He had messy bedhair that fell over his eyes as he watched you intently while you applied the final step to your makeup."We have the party to attend to remember?" you say gently while you turn around to fix his hair.

"You should go and get ready too." Bucky grumbled a small 'ok' after taking the suit from your hands and walking into the washroom to change.

"Shit--!!"

Bucky had accidentally cut himself on the cheek while shaving when you rush in to see what had happened.You sighed before reaching into the cabinet infront of him to pulls out the first aid bag.

"Honey, you should be more careful," you murmured while Bucky faces you as you reach up to the wipe the cut before placing a small bandage over it.

He mumbles a small 'sorry'. He looked like a kicked puppy which made you feel bad for him.

You gave him a chaste kiss before pulling away, your hand still resting on his cheek.

"It's ok Bucky, I know it was just an accident."

The space in the washroom was a little tight, so your back was almost hitting the wall behind you. Now that Bucky was fully awake, he took a better look at you and your outfit.

You looked gorgeous.

Bucky gave that mischievous smile of his which prompted you to move away. But it was too late, he quickly grabs you before you had the chance to run out.

"Where'd you think you're goin'?"

He then pulls you towards him by your hips and starts to tickle your sides relentlessly.

"God stop Bucky, s'too much --" you giggled as he continued his antics.

"Nuh uh, I ain't stopping until you give me a kiss!" He laughs and then proceeds to pepper your face with kisses. The feeling of his light stubble tickled your skin as you writhed under his touch.

Eventually, he stops and places one big kiss on your lips. The stain from your lipstick transfers onto his lips while you try to hold in your laugh.

"You're silly you know that right?" You breathe out as you try to wipe the lipstick of his lips with your thumb.

"Mmh yeah I know. But I only act silly for you." Bucky murmured while giving you heartwarming look and a lopsided grin.

Sometimes you forget how cute he can get when he wants attention from you.

His hands reached down towards your cheeks and gently caressed them with his thumb. He was impossibly close now as his nose nuzzles against yours.

"Bucky, we have a party to attend -" your breath hitches at his close proximity.

"C'mon doll, just one kiss?" his words were slurred with a heavy accent. He swipes the bottom of your lip with his thumb.

Bucky leans in again, lightly grazing your lips with his as your breath hitches. He glances into your eyes, silently asking for your permission.

"Damn in Bucky..." you breathe out before finally giving in. You press his lips against his in a steady motion while fingers entangle into his hair and tug at it gently, pulling out a low groan from Bucky.

The kiss was sweet and gentle at first before Bucky deepens it. You know for sure that your lipstick was no ruined which kind of annoyed you. But the way Bucky had his hands all over you caused your thoughts to be clouded with lust.

He had already reached for the back of your dress,undoing the neatly tied bow. You swiftly caught hold of his hand before he could fully take it off.

"Bucky we can't be doing this right now. What about -" , Bucky shuts you up by locking his lips with yours. Nibbling on your bottom lip, making you whine. His hand carefully hikes the hem of the skirt up, revealing your dainty cotton underwear.

"Oh? What do we have here..?" he drawls as his slender fingers crept over your throbbing cunt. Your cheeks darkened at the sultry question. He knew exactly how to get you riled up.

You're not sure when it happened, but you only grew more wet just by his painfully hot touch.

He moves from your lips down towards your jaw, just barely ghosting over the skin.

He parted his lips slightly, revealing a glimpse of anticipation before he dipped his head. Warm lips pressing a tender, lingering kiss to your jawline.

You let out a string of moans as he rubs into your hip with his fist and skillfully undresses you with the other unoccupied hand.

He slips his hand past your underwear and teasingly ghosts the hole of your cunt, making you shiver with anticipation. Deep down, you want this. You wanted him.

It had been a while since he's had you like this, so you had a lot of pent-up sexual tension. And you're sure he felt the same. Bucky smirked as he noticed your facial expression contour into pleasure and finally stuck his index finger inside. Deep enough for an audible squelch to echo in the washroom.

"Does it really feel that good?" he snickers while you roll your eyes at her comment. You grab the hem of his shirt and pull him into a seering hot kiss. You couldn't let him have all the fun.

Tugging at the ends you asked for permission to take it off. He tuts and guides your hand towards the nape of his neck.

"You're the one who said we can't be late. Besides, I'm the one treating you today." You knew he was referring to your job as a nurse when you usually take care of him. It somewhat warms your heart at the kind consideration.

Half an hour into the session, he has you sprawled out on your bed as he continued to finger fuck you after eating you out. He still had your arousal on his mouth as his lips melts into yours. You whimper against his lip as you could taste yourself on his tongue.

All while, he innocently whispers sweet nothings against your now swollen lips. Already becoming exhausted from the constant thrusting from Buckys slender fingers.

"You're doin' so well f'me love", he whispers sweetly. A stark contrast to his actions as you didn't have time to react while he pulls out tantalisingly slow and eagerly shoves it back in.

You cover your mouth against your hand to muffle your moans as he continues hitting at your g-spot. Your pelvis unkowngly bucks into his hand, wanting more than you could take.

Bucky's nuzzles into the crook of your neck, leaving a series of dark hickeys all over down your bare chest. Your nipples perked as he had one mound in his mouth and the other between his unoccupied fingers.

Your dress was still on. He had only just slipped off the sleeves and taken off your bra.

Not to mention It was hard to keep yourself sane when Bucky looked so irresistible himself. Bucky takes in your appearance while he slows down the pace, letting you breathe.

You looked so effortlessly pretty.

Your cheeks were rosy and wet from your tears.The curls of your hair unravelled and cascaded down your shoulders and your perfect pink lips, swollen and slightly bleeding.

"Bucky I'm so close--!"

He had you fucking on his fingers for so long you couldn't even check the time on the clock, your vision blurred from your tears.

At last you finally burst, unleashing a wave of pleasure across your body.

Helping you ride through your orgasm until the only thing heard in the room was lewd , wet noises coming from your sopping cunt.

You both were panting, one more than the other.

His tie was now loose along with the first few buttons of his shirt. The jacket that he paired with it was thrown somewhere on the floor in the room and his combed back hair now messy.

Bucky leans into your touch when you reach up with one hand to caress his cheek.

"Bucky, how are you so pretty?" You whispered in a gentle tone.

"Thank you, doll, but I should be the one telling you that." He replies while pressing a gentle kiss into the palm of your hand. You sighed in content as he picks you up bridal style and walks back towards the washroom.

"Now let's both take a bath together. How does that sound, hm?"

Meanwhile back at the party, Steve and Peggy wait for you both impatiently. It had been almost an hour since the party had started and there was still no sign of you or Bucky.

"Look here they come now," Peggy let's out a frustrated sigh. Steve almost let's out a laugh when he spots his friends practically run towards them on the deck.

"Hey! Sorry we're late!" Bucky yells as he stops infront of the couple.

You hug them both and apologise to Peggy for being late. She compliments your dress and you two carry on your conversation from there.

He had a feeling he knew the reason why you guys were so late but he decided to keep his mouth shut. You had your neck covered with your jacket collar so that was probably a dead giveaway.

The place was lit with fairly lights and makeshift decorations made by the soldiers. Everyone had come to greet you both and things kicked off from there.

But there was something wrong with Bucky as he seemed pretty nervous and jittery around you. You brushed it off as him being himself but you had no idea what was in store for you later that very moment.

As the party went on, you hear the whirring sound of a plane heading towards the boat.

You and Bucky were leaning againgst the rails as Bucky watches you from the corner of his eye. His hand had reached into his back pocket while he bit back a smile.

"Look Bucky! I think my name is on that banner," you exclaimed while the plane flew by. You turn your attention back to another plane following close behind. Bucky hums In agreement, seemingly nervous as the next plane went by.

Your breath catches in your throat as you read the message written on it.

'Will you marry me?'

You were in shock when you felt Bucky shift next to you. You turn back to see him down on one knee and a box in hand. Bucky couldn't contain his excitement as he slowly opened the box, revealing a diamond ring.

"So doll...what do you think about spending the rest of our lives together?" Bucky repeats the question with hesitance apparent in his voice.

"Yes! I'd love to!!" Bucky catches you as you fall into his arms and gently pats your hair as you cry into his arm.

Embracing eachother for a while before pulling away with tears running down both your cheeks and you give him a soft smile. He tries fighting back his own tears as he gingerly places the ring onto your finger.

Peggy and Steve watched from a distance with proud smiles on their faces. They couldn't be happier for you both!

Cheers erupt from the soldiers as they throw confetti and balloons down towards the deck where you both were.

"Whoo!! Congrats Sarge!"

"You better invite us to the wedding!!"

They all shout over eachother as you two both laugh at their enthusiasm.

"Don't worry you're all invited!!" Bucky shouts back while they all cheer louder.

He then reaches for the dog tags he had hanging around his neck and slipped one around your own.

"I'm giving you this so you can keep a piece of me with you when I'm gone." He whispers gently.

"I'll keep it safe."

You play with the trinket fondly then peer up at him through your wet lashes.

"I don't have anything for you though," you mumbled with a sad look on your face.

"Doll, you saying yes to marrying me is more than enough ok?" He replies while pulling you in by the waist. You tiptoe to reach his height before giving him a quick kiss on the cheek.

"I love you James Bucky Barnes."

"I love you too angel," he whispers as he leans into your warmth, pressing a loving kiss on your lips.

The worries of tomorrow can wait. For now? You enjoy the peace and think of plans for your future wedding.

When the war was over.

p.s - sorry this was kinda long and it had a rushed ending but I hope you enjoyed it!!

[nisuna]

I'm baaackk ha ha ㅠㅠ I just got really inspired soo...here we go!

my first multi-jjk men-mega-drabble huhuhu

I didn't include their names specifically in each drabble in case you want to think of someone else maybe :^) these are just some of my headcannons!

puuuuhh I usually write all of my stuff in one sitting, but I actually wrote this over the span of a few days the brain juices were flowing I really got into it, they turned out way longer than I anticipated, but anyway without further ado hope you enjoy

-characters aged up as needed we know the drill-

TW: dacryphilia, degradation, name calling/pet names, bitch, slut, good girl, honey, sweetheart, babe, baby, blowjob, a smidge of angst, comfort, impact play, oral m&f receiving, doggy, mating press, multiple positions, riding, missionary, choking, safe words, overstimulation, lmk if I forgot anything!!

♡featuring: toji, geto, gojo, choso, nanami, yuji, megumi♡

♡masterlist♡

----------------strictly 18+; MDNI------------------

JJk Men making you cry during Sex

fushiguro toji

"Dumb bitch, can't even suck my cock right.", he scoffed and pulled your hair even tighter.

Endure it. Whats up with you today you're usually so into this, but today his words were hitting too close to home. You could feel tears gather and saliva drip onto your sore thighs.

"Damn are you crying? Are you serious?", he laughed. "Does sucking my cock get you off so much? Here take this."

He pulls your face flush against his stomach, with too much force making you gag and shut your eyes.

You tapped his thighs three times ending it with a scratch, your safe word.

"Oh fuck I-"

He cussed before you let out a deep sob covering your face with your shaking hands. You felt so embarassed, runny nose and saliva dripping down your chin.

"Shit, come here." he reached out to you, but you pulled away as soon as his fingers grazed your shoulders. your throat was burning, voice hoarse while you continued crying.

"Y/N."

Hearing your name snapped you out of your distraught state, finally looking at him. He was sitting across from you, one arm spread out while the other was patting his lap signalling for you to come and sit on it. You took a few deep breaths, wiping your face and finally allowing yourself to fall in his embrace.

"Was that too much?"

"I've just been really stressed lately, I thought this would take my mind off of things but i guess I made it worse.", you sighed.

You distracted yourself with playing with his rough palm and thick finders while he continued.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"I dunno...", you trailed off when he interlocked your fingers

"Hey, look at me.", he pulled your chin up. "I know I'm usually pretty mean and strict, but I'm not a monster, you know. You can tell me stuff like that. I don't mind vanilla once in a while.", he smirked down at you

"Pft!", was what left your mouth before you elbowed him. "That's good to know. I just didn't want to look weak and sensitive in front of you..."

"That's nothing new you know? I know that in comparison to me you're way- OW"

"Alright, alright mister that's enough. You've cheered me up, don't push it.", you grimaced while pulling his cheeks.

"Yesh, ma'am.", he grinned,bringing his hand to his forehead in a salute.

You let out a sigh. "Just shut up and hold me a bit more.... ", you said while nuzzling your face in his neck

He didn't say another word and just kissed the top of your head, wrapping his strong arms around you.

You got to see a new side to your boyfriend today and it wasn't half bad. You could get used to this soft and caring persona of his.

geto suguru

He's been going at it for what feels like hours. He has eaten you out in every position imaginable. From face sitting to eating you out fron the back he's done it all today. But right now he had you spread out on the bed with your legs draped over his broad shoulders. The way his eyes were eating you up, had you constantly squirm away. The hand that was splayed over your tummy kept you in place, however. Between thrusting his fingers he kept littering your sensitive thighs with bites and sucks.

You were huffing his name, hair sticking to your sweaty forehead. You looked incredibly attractive to him, the way you were offering your whole body to him. He was getting off to that as much as you were getting off on his tongue and fingers.

Each orgasm that washed over you felt more intense than the previous one. As you were nearing the nth one this night you began smooshing your cunt into his face more aggressively and pulling his hair making him groan. Your squishy thighs felt heavenly around his head and he thought that getting smothered to death would be a fine way to go.

You were starting to sob, tears collecting at your cheeks, making him look up at you. When he was about to pull away and ask if you were okay you pulled him back against you.

"I said don't stop fuuuck!", you whined.

Eyes teary lips bitten swollen, you looked so messy and he knew that making you cry was his new kink. So he just smirked, licked his lips and finger fucked you through another orgasm.

"Fuck fuck fuck!!", your eyes shot open.

When he pulled away he grinned with his tongue sticking out. "Don't worry, we'll he here all night, sweetheart. Cum as much as you want.", he whispered biting along your thigh and kissing your ankle.

gojo satoru

When you first suggested role play he was oddly enthusiastic about it. He became hesitant when you mentioned spanking.

"Wait, babe, are you sure about that?"

"I can take it, you're not that strong.", you rolled your eyes. "And be as nasty and mean as you can. You can do that for me right, big boy?"

"Don't come crying to me later, missy."

The start was good you were taking your punishment well. He was pounding away from behind, pulling your hair in between mean spanks to your reddening cheeks. You were challenging him between every thrust and spank. He was getting ded up with you but tried to stay composed.

"That's all you got?", you mocked. Now he's had it, So he started hitting your thighs and going inwards.

"Wait hold on what are you-? Ah-", you yelped shortly after earning yourself a mean slap to your pussy for all the mockery.

"What's up princess? All that big talk just to look this pathetic.", his words were getting to you way more than you had expected.

"We din't talk about this, asshole ow-", you tried to stay strong.

"Just shut up and take it."

Those words broke the dam and your tears came spilling from your eyes and onto the pillows beneath you. At first he didn't realise those were bad tears as he teased you, "You cryin? C'mon big girls dont cry,? he thought it was part of your role play so he landed another harsh slap on your ass cheek, it stung and you lost it.

"STOP fuck no more...please. I get it. I give up."

"Babe are you alright? Shit. Hey, hey, c'mere.", he turned you around, holding you up by the waist.

As he was wiping away your tears he spoke, "Now that we know you can't handle much. How about a safe word for the future? Maybe purple, hm?"

You didn't like his tone so you pulled his ear

"Aaahhh purple purple", he giggled.

"No, it'll lose meaning if you just say it like that. And just so you know, I'm not weak, you're just way too strong.", you shot him a glare.

"Sorry sorry.", he put his arms up in defeat. After a few soft kisses and hugs he spoke up again.

"Have you calmed down? Wanna go again?", he dared to ask wiggling his eyebrows, which only earned him a slap across his chest

"PURPLE!" he panicked.

"SHUT UP!!!"

choso kamo

From the first time he got to hug you he became painfully aware of the obvious size difference between the two of you. And since then he became deathly afraid of accidentally hurting you. He always tried to controll his strength around you, especially during sex when he bends you however he pleases and pushed you into positions you didn't know you could assume.

He was a gentle giant, however, so imagine his shock when you suggested that he should hurt you on purpose. You know, be a little mean play rough.

"Are you out of your mind?"

"Pleeaasee, I know you're always holding back I wanna know how strong you really are.", you purred, sliding a finger across his clothed chest.

"I can't be mean to you.", he dead panned.

"Why not? You're mean to people all the time.", you blinked up at him.

Well, I actually care about you.", he thought to himself but soon gave in to your begging.

Fine, I'll try. But tell me if it gets too much.

"Yaay!! Thanks.", you stood on your tippie toes to peck his cheek.

That's how you found yourself riding him like there was no tomorrow. His cock was hitting you so deliciously deep you were starting to lose your mind. The slaps you asked to give you across your face were lighter than you'd like but beggars can't be choosers. And when he first spanked you, you could feel tears sting your eyes.

He took notice and slowed down his pace.

"Nooo mmh I like it, please, you shook your head, desperately rolling your hips into him.

"Baby look at me? You're crying!! Does it hurt, let's stop, c'mon."

"No not at all, i love it...it feel so ah good. I can feel you all the way up here. Mmh don't stop.", you mewled while pulling his hand to press against your tummy.

Fuck the sight of your pink cheeks and teary eyes did turn him on. It was making him crazy actually.

"Fuck, you have to take responsibility for being so fucking hot.", he growled and you received your long awaited hard spanks.

"Yes, hit me some more, please<3", he swore he saw hearts in your eyes. "Be mean, call me names."

"You slut...", he tried and that had your toes curl and eyes roll back

"Yeah, I'm your fucking slut, just for you. Give it to me more.", you pulled his hand to your mouth to suck on his thick fingers. After placing them on your tits he gave tem a few pinches before grabbing handfulls of your ass. Meanwhile you pressed your chest against his face, essentially drowning him in your swollen tits. You swore you came one step closer to heaven with each thrust against your cervix.

nanami kento

You were currently folded in half with your husband thrusting away at your cunt. You two were practically sticking to each other at this point. He lifted your hips up, putting your feet on his shoulders and holding your legs in place with a strong arm. The new angle made you see stars. After a few thrusts he brought his thick fingers to your swollen clit. The speed of his hips was brutal and the circles he was rubbing with his fingers felt almost painful.

"Wait if you keep that up I'm gonna- oh fuck", you gasped eyes blown wide open.

"Well, that's the whole point honey.", he mused kissing your ankle.

As he continued his ministrations you came with a loud sob, shaking when he kept playing with your clit.

"Shit, no more pleaseee", you tried grabbing his hand, tears collecting at the corners of your eyes.

He only stopped when he saw you cover your face with shaky hands. That was when he finally set your legs down and kissed your hands

"Hey, don't hide. Look at me."

"N-no, I don't want you to see me in such a pathetic state", you cried and tried to squirm away from his burning gaze.

You heard a low chuckle rumble through his chest before he grabbed your hands with one of his, pinning them above your head. He leaned down and caught your lips in a hungry kiss.

"How could you ever look pathetic to me. Do you understand how perfect you look beneath me, hm?" I know that you want to go again.", he mused kissing away your tears abd letting go of your hands.

You gave him a weak nod, slinging your arms around his neck and pulling him close.

"Don't worry. This time I'll make you feel even better.", he whispered against your neck before starting to roll his hips into you once more.

itadori yuji

Earlier he was boasting to you that he has been researching how to choke someone the right way. And at first it felt just right, but once he got more and more into snapping his hips into you, low groans leaving his lips, his grip changed. Instead of light pressure that was making your head spin just right, he was almost completely cutting off your airway now.

You tried to adjust in his grip in between high pitched moans and mewls leaving your mouth at how he bullied himself inside you. But to no avail, he just added a second hand. Once you were getting dizzy you tried to mutter your safe word.

"Pine-"

"Pain? You like that, huh? Wow baby I don't now you were such a masochist."

He squeezed you even harder. Your eyes shot open, tears spilling out as you clawed at this firm hand around your neck. You could barely talk.

"PINEAPPLE!", you finally managed to shriek.

His hips immediately came to a halt, pulling out and detaching his huge palms from your neck. he could clearly see the red fingerprints he left behind

"Baby! My god, I'm so sorry are you okay-?"

A loud cough left your mouth, shutting him up. You took a few deep breaths, panic written all over your face and you tried to smooth over the sore area. At first you didn't even notice the tears that kept falling from your eyes, you were to focused to catch your breath again.

He was shocked and so disappointed in himself. He actually hurt you even after all his research.

When you continued to rub your neck, small "ows" left your mouth and that snapped him out of it. He laid down and reached his arms out. you immediately fell into his embrace.

"Sh sh its okay you're safe I'm so sorry", he reassured while gently stroking your hair. You were still shaking but your breathing soon evened out. Your ear was pressed against his chest and you could hear his heart hammering like crazy. A stark contrast to his composed, soothing voice. Must've been shocking to him as well, you thought to yourself before speaking up.

"Yes I'm fine, thank you.", you looked up and pecked his lips.

"Let's never do this again.", he mumbled while squeezing you flush against him.

"No, I did like it at first. You just have to be more careful next time. And please just stick to one hand. One is plenty, you're too strong for your own good.", you chuckled while rubbing your nose against his.

He just hummed and kissed your forehead.

"C'mon, let's get you cleaned up.", he said while sitting up pulling you with him. Before he stood up he grabbed your hand and kissed your knuckles with a soft smile on his face.

fushiguro megumi

You've been dating for a few months now, but the furthest you have gone was a few gentle pecks and light groping. Each time you wanted to take things further, he found an excuse. Until the day came that he invited you over to his.

You were sat on his lap on his bed across while he licked at lour neck and groped your tits. His cock was hitting your cervix with every squirm of your hips. He told you to stay still but it was growing increasingly difficult with each teasing motion.

It was when he moved one of his hands from your breast down to between your legs, that you felt tears swell up.

"What's wrong? You don't like it?"

"No, I love it. It's just I've liked you so much for such a long time. I'm just so happy right now, so don't mind me.", you mumbled, squeezing your eyes together.

"You're so wet for me baby. Do my fingers feel that good hm? Just look at yourself in the mirror."

"Mmh noo it's embarassing", you whined as his fingers sped up.

"Do it for me. Now."

How could you say no to him, when he spoke with that tone and with how his fingers were working wonders. So you reluctantly opened your eyes and saw him staring right back at you.

"Atta girl.", and with those words he began rocking you up and down on his lap. You were so loud and expressive, he loved every second of it.

"Good girl, tell me, who's fucking you so good right now?

"Mmhh, you do. Ah, so good, please don't stop."

Instead of speeding up he pushed your hips down keeping you in place and making you sob. "Beg some more", he huffed while he licked up your neck and dug his teeth into your shoulder.

--------

Thank you for reading I hope you enjoyed, I'd love to hear your thoughts!!<3 Hmu if you have any suggestions for future fics 🙆🏻‍♀️ much love as always MWAH♡

[sunshineangel0]

𝘭𝘢𝘴𝘵 𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘮𝘢

pairing- kim seungmin x reader summary- when the world is given 21 days until total destruction, two friends experience the kind of love that never got a chance. genre- sci-fi, slow-burn romance, angst word count- ~2.6k warnings- end-of-world themes, emotional intensity, mild language, grief, existential dread, implied death a/n- sorry sorry sorry sorry. im on this angsty writing streak right now plwase forgive me. also, if you've ever loved someone in silence until the end, this one's for you.

Three Weeks Prior — Impact Zero

The coffee machine made a noise like it was choking on gravel.

You leaned against the counter in the break room, arms folded, watching the old machine stutter through its final breath. The overhead lights buzzed faintly, casting a yellow tint across the white tile and metal countertops. Everything in this building felt slightly too old, slightly too used — like it had seen better years and was trying to hold on, just like the people inside it.

The mug in your hand had a faded logo on it: NAO — North Atlantic Observatory, your workplace and second home for the last four years. An isolated, high-security research facility perched on the northern coast, built to monitor orbital anomalies and space weather. Boring work most days. Too quiet. But stable.

Until recently.

You rubbed your eyes. The sun wasn’t even up yet. You hadn’t slept.

"Looks like it's finally giving up," came a familiar voice behind you.

You didn’t need to turn around to know it was Seungmin. You just let out a soft huff of a laugh.

"Same," you replied.

He came to stand next to you, setting his elbows on the counter, mirroring your tired posture. His hoodie was half-zipped over his standard-issue uniform, and there was a smudge of graphite on his jaw, probably from him resting his head on his hand while scribbling calculations again. You glanced at him out of the corner of your eye.

"You look like hell," you said.

"I aim for consistency." He smiled, but his eyes were tired too. “Also, this is my third shift in a row. I’m legally a ghost now.”

You handed him the mug. “Drink. It’s toxic, but it’s warm.”

He took it, fingers brushing yours for just a second too long. But you didn’t pull away, and neither did he. That was how it always was with you two — almost something, never said.

The silence settled again. There was something about the early hours, before the building came to life, that made everything feel fragile. And lately, fragile felt more like a warning than a mood.

“I checked the readings again,” you said quietly. “There’s still an anomaly near the asteroid belt.”

He didn’t answer immediately. Just sipped.

You glanced at him. “You think it’s real?”

He met your eyes, and his voice dropped. “I think… we’re not being told everything.”

You nodded once. That’s what scared you most.

A faint beep echoed from down the hall — the server room.

Then another. Louder.

Then, the sound that stopped everything: the intercom crackled to life.

“All personnel to stations. This is not a drill. Orbital threat confirmed. Impact trajectory locked. Impact Zero protocol activated. Estimated contact: 21 days. Repeat — this is not a drill.”

The hallway went still.

In the break room, the coffee machine gave a final wheeze and shut down completely.

You didn’t move at first. You were still holding the paper coffee cup, staring at the wall, not quite breathing.

“...No,” Seungmin said under his breath, huffing a laugh. “That’s not—there’s no way.”

You slowly turned your head toward the hallway. Monitors were lighting up outside the glass walls — red lines, looping trajectories, countdowns. Sirens began to flicker faintly through the base, not full blaring yet, just the beginning pulses of something much bigger.

People started rushing down the hall. A tech assistant dropped her tablet. Someone was already shouting into a radio.

You felt it in your chest before your brain caught up: that sinking, weightless drop of understanding.

It wasn’t a glitch. It wasn’t hypothetical. It was real.

“Seungmin,” you said softly.

He was still staring at the floor, the cup forgotten in his hands. His face had gone pale.

When he looked at you, it was the first time in all your years here that he wasn’t joking, wasn’t sarcastic, wasn’t playing anything off.

Just scared. “You don’t think—” he started, voice thin.

“I do,” you said. “I think this is it.”

And suddenly the room felt colder. The air thinner.

He nodded once. Swallowed hard. "Okay."

Then he said it again, quieter. "Okay."

20 Weeks To Impact —

The base fell apart fast after the confirmation.

People ran. Some in blind panic. Others with cold resolve. The top brass left first — whisked away on private jets, secure transports, escorted under military silence. Then the families, the ones with connections. Then the hopefuls, the cowards, the ones who couldn’t face it.

You stayed.

So did Seungmin.

No one told you to. There wasn’t a command, not even a goodbye. Just... silence. The lights in the hallway flickered one morning, and no one came to fix them. You stopped getting updates from command. Coffee stopped brewing. One by one, the monitors went dark.

You and Seungmin stayed in the operations wing, sleeping in shifts, monitoring what little data still came through. It felt pointless, but it was better than waiting with empty hands.

You didn’t talk about the meteor at first. You filled the silence with sarcasm, inside jokes, trading terrible snack bar finds like currency. But your laughs were quieter. Your eyes lingered longer.

One night, Seungmin found an old vinyl tucked in storage. You had no idea why it was there — maybe someone thought the end of the world should have a soundtrack. He didn’t say anything. Just put it on, turned up the volume, and nodded toward you like it was an invitation.

You danced. Badly. Quietly.

He watched you with this look. Like he was memorizing.

You noticed.

14 Days To Impact —

The outside world started showing signs of rot. The power grid flickered. Civilian broadcasts stopped. Riots spread through cities. Roads clogged with cars that never moved again.

From the base, you could see smoke on the horizon almost every day. Not close enough to reach you. But close enough to remind you.

Seungmin stopped making jokes.

You spent a lot of time on the roof.

He started bringing you coffee — the last of it, rationed with ceremony. Some nights you’d find him already there, staring at the stars, and he’d pass you a chipped mug without speaking.

Once, after a long silence, he asked: “Do you think we would’ve made it, if none of this happened?”

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t.

But you stayed next to him until morning.

7 Days To Impact —

By the third week, the base was a ghost. The doors stayed open. Wind blew dust across the lobby. No one was coming back.

There was no plan anymore. No broadcasts. No hopeful countdowns. Just a sky that grew redder every night.

You stopped checking the data. You started living in the in-between moments — eating together in the empty mess hall, flipping through old books, playing music through speakers with frayed wires.

One night, you woke from a nightmare — fire, sky splitting in half — and walked out into the hallway barefoot, your chest tight.

Seungmin was already there. Sitting on the cold floor, head back against the wall, eyes wide open.

You sat next to him.

Neither of you said anything.

You leaned your head on his shoulder.

He didn’t move away.

Two Days To Impact —

Now, it's quiet.

The kind of quiet that wraps around your bones. No sirens. No more data. No more pretending.

You and Seungmin packed small bags. Not because you were going anywhere — just because it felt like doing something.

You didn’t ask where he wanted to go.

He just said, “There’s a place I used to go when I was a kid. A drive-in theater just outside town. Haven’t been there in years.”

You nodded.

He looked at you like he was asking for more than permission.

You nodded again.

Tomorrow, you’d drive out together. Watch a movie that isn’t playing. Under stars that are about to disappear.

And maybe — finally — say all the things you never let yourselves say before.

Day Of The Impact — 2 Hours Until Impact

The sky looked wrong.

Too bright, too red — like the sun had cracked open and started bleeding. Clouds moved strangely, fast and low, as if the world knew what was coming and couldn’t sit still.

But the drive-in was still there.

It sat at the edge of the world.

Not literally — just on the edge of what used to be town. But now, with the roads abandoned and the sky sick with color, it felt like the end of everything. The rusted sign out front still read COSMIC DRIVE-IN in broken letters, and beneath it, someone had spray-painted: “Now Showing: THE END”.

Seungmin parked the car right in front of the big screen.

It leaned, weathered and stained by time, but still standing. Behind the projection booth, the hills rolled out into darkening gold, shadows stretching across the horizon. The sky looked bruised — reds and purples and sick yellows blending into something unnatural.

He turned off the engine.

Neither of you moved for a moment.

“Give me ten minutes,” he said, grabbing the backpack and hopping out.

You stayed seated, eyes scanning the horizon. The clouds pulsed faint orange. Your chest was tight with something massive and unnamed.

Ten minutes later, a sudden flicker lit up the screen.

And then — impossibly — the projector began to hum.

You stepped out, stunned, watching grainy black-and-white spill across the canvas.

Casablanca

Seungmin stood by the shack-turned-booth like it was something sacred. The screen flickered behind him, a grainy beam of black and white cutting across the gravel lot. He crossed his arms, the corners of his mouth tugged up in a smile that looked half triumphant, half broken — like a man who just held a crumbling world together with duct tape and spit and sheer willpower.

He walked back to you, slow and steady, never taking his eyes off your face. Like he was memorizing it.

“I figured...” he said quietly, voice rough with exhaustion and something deeper, “if we’re going out… we should go out watching something that knew how to end.”

You tried to smile, but your lip trembled. Your whole body did.

“God, Seungmin,” you breathed, barely audible. “I’m so fucking scared.”

His face changed — just slightly, just enough. Like a crack down the center of a mask that had held too long. He closed the distance between you in a single heartbeat and wrapped his arms around you like he meant to fight the sky itself.

“I know,” he whispered into your hair, his voice shaking. “Me too.”

You held on like the world was already slipping, like the ground might fall away if you let go. Around you, the gravel lot was still. The air thick with the static of endings. On the screen, Bogart told Ingrid goodbye — again, like he always did. For the hundredth time. Maybe the last time.

You pulled back just far enough to see Seungmin’s eyes. He was already looking at you like he’d never seen anything else.

“I should’ve said this before,” you whispered. “I should’ve said it a thousand times.”

His hands stayed on your waist. Gentle. Solid.

“Then say it now.”

Your throat tightened. The words hurt coming out, like your lungs weren’t built to carry them.

“I love you.”

It broke something open between you — not cleanly, not neatly, but like a dam splitting at the seams. Seungmin didn’t flinch. He didn’t even blink.

“I’ve loved you,” he said, voice cracked and raw, “since the first time you brought me that godawful coffee and told me my hair looked like a dying poodle.”

You choked out a laugh that turned into a sob.

“Since you didn’t leave. Since every night we waited and wondered and watched the sky, and you were still here. You always stayed.”

And then you kissed him.

Not like the movies — there was no slow lean-in, no swelling music. It was desperate. Messy. Your teeth bumped. Your tears mixed. It was the kind of kiss people don’t survive without. The kind that says if we go, we go like this.

You didn’t stop there.

In the front seat of the car, with the old blanket pulled over half your bodies, skin pressed to skin, you clung to each other like drowning things. No words. Just gasps, touches, sobs muffled against each other’s throats. His hands trembled against your spine. Your fingers curled in his hair like lifelines. You made promises without saying them — promises the world didn’t have time left to keep.

Above you, the stars were bleeding red.

But for one hour, it didn’t matter.

For one hour, there was only the warmth of him, the sound of his breathing, your heartbeat syncing with his.

After, you lay curled against his chest, your head rising and falling with every breath he still managed to take. Casablanca was long over. The screen was blank. The speakers had gone quiet.

The silence felt like it was holding its breath.

And then you felt it.

That low, distant rumble.

Not a sound — not really. More like a presence. A vibration that moved through your bones like thunder in the marrow. You both sat up slowly, instinct holding you still.

Far on the horizon, the sky had torn. A jagged seam of light split the clouds, too bright to be natural. Too vast. It didn’t spread — it consumed.

You reached for Seungmin’s hand. He caught it instantly, but his fingers were shaking. Yours were too. You held on like it would anchor you. Like it could undo what was coming.

Seungmin looked at you like you were the last real thing left in the world.

“I’m not scared anymore,” he said, and it sounded like the end of something.

Tears ran down your cheeks, hot and endless.

“I am,” you whispered.

He leaned in. Forehead pressed to yours. Eyes wet, but steady.

“I got you,” he said.

The light swelled.

Everything turned gold and white and endless, like the stars had come down all at once to burn the earth clean.

You didn’t look away from him.

He kissed you, one final time.

No fear. No future. Just now.

And when the sky came down, he held you like he could hold it back.

Year 147 A.I.Z (After Impact Zero)

The road was cracked, but it held.

Weeds had burst through the asphalt in places, curling like green veins across what used to be highways. A rusted sign leaned sideways at the turnoff: — COSMIC DRIVE-IN — CLOSED —

No one had come here in years.

The girl stepped out of the all-terrain rover, dust kicking up beneath her boots. She was young — maybe twenty. Hair pulled back in a knot, a thick canvas jacket with a radiation patch on the sleeve. She carried a small camera slung across her chest.

She walked slowly across the gravel lot.

The metal speaker poles were still there, bent and sun-bleached. The snack shack was nothing more than a shell, but the screen stood — faded, cracked down one side, but standing.

She lifted her camera and took a photo.

Inside the booth, everything was half-rotted. Dust covered the console, but the projector still sat like a sleeping relic. She brushed off the label:

Model 1973 | Last Run Logged: April 11

She paused. Eyes narrowed. Something glinted under a drawer.

A tape. A movie. Casablanca.

Old, black, and barely labeled. The words scratched in shaky handwriting:

“our last night — s.”

She took it.

The moment felt sacred.

As she turned to leave, she noticed two names, scratched into the wall of the booth with what looked like a key:

Y/N & Seungmin Final Show.

She didn’t know who they were.

But when she got back to the rebuilt city, she’d restore the film. She’d watch it. She’d tell people.

And they would remember.

Title Card

LAST NIGHT AT THE CINEMA

They didn’t make history. But they made a moment.

One screen. One love. One ending.

April 11 — The world fell silent. But their story played until the final light.

“This was my best scene.”

©sunshineangel0 𖹭 if you liked this work, please consider reblogging, commenting or liking! xoxo franzi 💋

skz general: @velvetmoonlght @scarlet789 @estella-novella @nightmarenyxx @channiesluvrclub

(if you wanna be added to the taglist comment below!)

[rjzimmerman]

Biden to block oil drilling across 625 million acres of U.S. waters. (Washington Post)

Excerpt from this Washington Post story:

President Joe Biden will moveMonday to block all future oil and gas drilling across more than 625 million acres of federal waters — equivalent to nearly a quarter of the total land area of the United States, according to two people briefed on the decision who spoke on the condition of anonymity because the announcement is not yet public.

The action underscores how Biden is racing to cement his legacy on climate change and conservation in his last weeks in office. President-elect Donald Trump, who has describedhis energy policy as “drill, baby, drill,” is likely to work with congressional Republicans to challenge the decision.

Biden will issue two memorandums that prohibit future federal oil and gas leasing across large swaths of the Atlantic Ocean, the Pacific Ocean, the eastern Gulf of Mexico and the Northern Bering Sea in Alaska, the two people said. The oil and gas industry has long prized the eastern Gulf of Mexico in particular, viewing the area as a key part of its offshore production plans.

The move could have the biggest impact in the Gulf of Mexico, which accounts for about 14 percent of the country’s crude oil production, according to the U.S. Energy Information Administration. Industry operations there focus on a small sliver of federal waters off Louisiana’s coast.

The decision would have little effect on a stretch of the Atlantic from North Carolina to Florida, where no drilling is underway.There is weak industry interest in the region, and lawmakers from both parties have raised concerns about possible oil spills devastating local beaches and tourism.

In fact, Trump imposed a 10-year moratorium on offshore oil exploration off the coasts of Florida, Georgia and South Carolina when courting voters there during his 2020 campaign. “This protects your beautiful gulf and your beautiful ocean, and it will for a long time to come,” Trump said as he announced the election-year reversal during an appearance at a lighthouse in Florida.

The Northern Bering Sea, off the coast of western Alaska, is home to migrating marine mammals including bowhead and beluga whales, walruses and ice seals, which are hunted by many Alaska Natives. In 2016, President Barack Obama issued an executive order that prohibited oil and gas exploration across more than 112,000 square miles of marine habitat in the Northern Bering Sea and called for tribal comanagement of the protected area.

Biden plans to invoke the 1953 Outer Continental Shelf Lands Act, which gives the president broad powers to withdraw federal waters from future leasing. A federal judge ruled in 2019 that such withdrawals cannot be undone without an act of Congress.

Sen. Mike Lee (R-Utah), the new chairman of the Senate Energy and Natural Resources Committee, suggested that he would seek to overturn the decision using the Congressional Review Act, which allows lawmakers to nullify an executive action within 60 days of enactment with a simple majority vote.

The expected move is “yet another attempt by the Biden administration to undercut the incoming Trump administration and ignore the will of the American people — who decisively voted to reverse this war on American energy,” Lee said in an emailed statement, adding, “Senate Republicans will push back using every tool at our disposal.”

[scream4toji]

Deserving and Serving

Toji x female reader x Shiu

Prologue

Warning: nsfw, dirty talking, Shiu watching

Shiu just caught his wife cheating. And take a wild guess whose couch he’s freeloading on?

“Come on doll. He gone for a while. Let’s get a quickie in”, Toji begged, once you settled down for the evening. It had been a week since you opened your home for the heartbroken man. You felt weird and uncomfortable having sex knowing another man was sleeping on the other side of the walls. Not to mention you and Toji damn loud during sex.

But Toji gets what Toji begs.

Unlike Toji, Shiu is light on his feet. And he barges right into your bedroom while you were spread open in a very compromised and unconventional position, perfect for the intruders viewing.

“Hey hey! Guess ya never heard of knockin’.” Toji grinned at Shiu, who just stood there with his eyes glued on you. Toji continued to drill his cock into your nervous cunt as he held your legs open so you won’t shut them on him. He had you spread open like a book, sitting on his lap with your back against his chest. And you can just imagine what direction the rest of you were facing.

Shiu swallowed a dry lump. He hadn’t been sexually active for months, he had already had suspicions about his ex by then.

“Ya like what ya see? Bet ya’r cheatin’ ass wife wasn’t so good ‘n bed. Look how good my gal takes the dick.”, he quickens his pace to make a point. Your body jolting from impact, Toji’s hand reaching for your clit. He spreads open your folds to show the spectator how he had stretched you out with his thick ass cock. “She takin’ it all. Ya know how I ain’t small. She a good gal. Right doll? You ain’t cheatin’ on Toji?” He purrs in your ears.

You can hear the unzipping of pants, Shiu unbuckles his belt. Through your half-lidded eyes you notice his hard erection come to life. “Toji…”, you whimper between your moans.

“Don’t ya worry doll. He ain’t gonna touch ya. Probably just release some stress with his hands. Ya ok with that?” Toji asks, slowing down his thrusts to give you a chance to think straight and make a call.

You look up at the man you felt sorry for. You knew his wife. She was a bitch and he deserved better than that. If anything, why not let him jerk off to you from spite.

And so Shiu already had his hard dick twitching in his hands. Your eyes couldn’t avoid it. He was standing directly in front of you. You could practically smell his arousal.

“Sorry doll. You can say no”, Shiu gave you one last chance.

You didn’t reply. Instead you slide your hand down towards your clit and began riding Toji with a grin, giving the poor man a show he deserved.

“Atta gal. Ride Toji’s dick like a slut. Don’t worry Shiu. She likin’ that dirty talk. She really a Toji cum slut but today she be ya’r slut to?”

You give Shiu a nod of approval. And just like that, filth started flying, degrading you, words alone making you cum.

“Damn. I knew ya had a heart of gold. But ya a real slut for Toji’s cum? Tch… look how ya ride him while gawkin’ at another man’s dick.”

“Fuck, she tightenin’ up. What I tell you. She lovin’ the dirty talk. Gonna fill ya up good doll. Got a week’s worth of cum gotta dump in ya’r cunt. Gonna make ya a walkin’ cum drippin’ slut”.

“Shit…gonna stain ya’r face with my cum, doll. Ya ok with that?”, Shiu asked, his wrist working overtime, Carpel Tunnel waiting to be triggered.

“Ya ya. Cover her in ya’r seed. You clean yeah? I’m sure ya clean. Havnt fucked a hooker?” Toji asked mid-fuck.

“Nah. Been a few months since I fucked my ex.”

That was permission enough. You rode your man while Shiu jerked off just inches away from your face. All three came in unison, your vision going white but not from your orgasm.

“Ha. Doll sorry got some in ya’r eyes?” Shiu takes out a handkerchief from his pant pocket and cleans off your face while Toji filled you up with his seed.

“Fuck! Milkin’ my cock so good. Your pussy an angel, babe.”

Shiu tucked his cock back in his pants and stood there admiring your beautiful body. “Ya damn lucky Toji. Come on. Got us some dinner”.

As he walked away, you look up at Toji, your brain still processing what transpired.

“How long he staying?”

Toji noticed the excitement in your eyes and kissed you on the cheeks. “Dunno. Don’t get too attached doll. He already has feelin’s for ya. Let’s go eat. Need stamina for round 2”.

[hoshigray]

Repeat that for Daddy...

Okay, walk with me on this one: you and Toji are lying on the bed enjoying the acts of "coupling", and you accidentally call him "daddy"? Obviously, it was a slip-up in the heat of the moment, but unfortunately, it's Toji. He won't stop until you say what you just said.

A/n: I'm totally not writing this to compensate for the fact I haven't posted pt ii of the assassin duo toji x reader drabble yet :) Which tysm for 500+ notes btw!!! Please enjoy this while I finish that fic for y'all~~

Cw: dom! Toji x fem! reader - fingering (fem! receiving) - daddy kink (it's an awakening for Toji) - pet names (baby, darlin', good girl, mama, sweetheart, sweetie) - praise - clitoral play (Toji pinches your clit bc he's a bastard) - pussy slaps (2x) - a bit of comedy.

Wc: 893

One of Toji's favorite things to do when you two are relaxing in the confines of your home is cuddling with you. It was a foreign thing you introduced to him in the early stages of your relationship, but now he likes to do it when the chance is present.

Having your body close to him tells him that you see him as a dependable figure and that you feel safe in his presence. Which he cherishes deeply. And it's a guilty pleasure when you let him have his hands roam your body.

And it's even more of a guilty pleasure when you let him play with your pussy.

The lewd sounds of Toji's fingers messing with your pussy and your ecstatic moans fill the bedroom, the television volume stationed low so he can focus on your face and expressions.

"Mmmm, Toji, A-Ahhh!."

He's lying on his side with his head resting on his hand, facing your squirming body with his forefinger and middle finger in your slit. You lay on your back next to him, gripping his shirt to the point his midriff shows.

"I'm here, baby," Toji kisses your forehead, trailing down to your neck and shoulder. "I'm right here."

He loves it when you're like this, being in this intimate space where you trust him to do as he pleases with your body. He wants to listen to your mewls and gasps because they're the sweetest sounds he's ever heard. Your watery, half-lidded eyes look up at him, the man who makes you appear so disarranged with his touch.

Toji loves moments like this, loves being with you, loves you.

"Feelin' good, darlin'?" He asks, kissing your collarbone where he'll definitely leave a mark for you to find later on. "You're doin' so well fr' me."

"Haaaaah, yes, yesss," you hiss, biting your bottom lip when Toji's thumb faintly brushes on your clit. His thick fingers scrape the velvety walls of your cunt at a lovingly slow pace that has you inching toward a climax.

"Oh God, Tojiii, I'm going to— Ahaaa!!" You're so close to coming, almost there. "I wanna cum on your fingers, Daddy..."

Toji's kisses are halted, his fingers freeze inside your slick-coated vulva, and even you stay still with wide eyes staring up at the bedroom ceiling. White noise from the television substitutes the silence.

Toji brings his face up to look at you, and your eyes move to the side, trying to find anything to look at except the deep forest green eyes drilling into your face.

"What did you say, sweetie?"

You act innocent. "Huh?"

Toji smirks. "If you can 'huh,' you can hear. You said somethin'. What did you say?

"Uhh, I said I wanna chow on some chicken fingers, darling."

"That's not what you said. And we ate two hours ago."

"T-True!" You squeak, squeezing around Toji"s digits. He raises a brow, his smirk still confidently plastered on his face. "But I know how much you have a big appetite, and who can say no to dinosaur-shaped nugge- Eyyaaah!!!"

It happened so quickly; Toji's fingers exit your tight opening and pinch your clitoris, applying pressure between his thumb and forefinger. The abrupt action has you screaming, and all Toji does is snicker.

"Don't play with me, sweetheart," he says to your ear in his guttural tone. A hearty laugh seethes through his lips when you jerk up from the impact of his hand slapping your pussy. You shed a single tear, and Toji snaps a mental picture. Another slap, another cry. "What's my new name, baby?"

"D-Daddy!!" You swallow the drool pooling in your mouth before choking on it. Pain stinging on the poor swollen lips of your vagina from the cruel treatment, your mind feels foggy. The feeling of regret clouds your thoughts, wondering why you let that word out. And worse, giving the title to a man with an ego bigger than anyone you've ever known. I should've kept my mouth shut...

But you can't deny the puddle that's leaking through your cunt.

Toji grins hard, his scar rooted upwards for his teeth to flash with the light coming from the TV. "Good girl." His fingers snake back into your folds, and you whimper into his touch as his digits go faster than before. "Can you call me that again, mama?"

"Mmmph!! Daddyyy, too fast, 's too fa— Oohhh!!" You grip his shirt again, finding support close to him. Your pants and breathing feel so heavy you nearly choke.

"Gonna cum, baby?" You nod rapidly. He loves when you're desperate. "Go ahead, cum on Daddy, darlin'." His thumb then moves directly to your clit, pushing and grinding down on it, and that was it for you.

You cream around his fingers, walls clenching down on him as your legs wobble in ecstasy. Tears stream down your eyes as you finish your orgasm.

Toji's fingers finally withdraw once your spasm ends, and strings of your fluids stick to him like honey. "Good job, mama," he puts the fingers in his mouth and licks them, deep groans as he's sucking in your essence. He then kisses your lips, giving you a taste of yourself as you exchange tongues.

Toji departs from your plump lips, cocking his head with a small smile. "You outta call me that more often, starting to like it."

[starkidmunson]

glitter & crimson (it has a title y'all!)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7

Nervous excitement has Steve out of his bed 25 minutes before his alarm goes off to wake him. It’s not unusual on game days. He gathers ingredients in the kitchen until he hears Robin’s alarm, and then he starts making both their breakfast smoothies.

She fumbles down the hallway a few moments later with her eyes still closed, takes the cup from him, and sits in the middle of their living room floor.

“Pilates today? Or did you get a workout in at the show last night?” She asks after a few sips, and Steve joins her near their mats.

“It’s a tradition, can’t go changing shit now.” He teases, laughing as she throws her head back with a tired groan. Then she’s hauling herself to her bedroom to grab a hoodie.

They exercise on the balcony, like always, but keep it light. Steve tries to get plenty of stretching in on game days, making sure he’s loose and limber before he hits the ice. After about 30 minutes, Robin’s teeth are chattering in the cool morning air, so he calls it, and they head back inside. He gathers his gear while Robin showers, and then they make their way to United.

Steve heads to the locker room to gear up, manages to finish a whole bottle of water before he hits the rink. He takes a few slow laps around the rink as the rest of the team starts to roll in, runs through a few drills on his own before team practice starts.

They keep things minimal on game days; sprints and passes, shots on goal. Steve does a final lap backwards around the rink, before clearing off to the locker room to finish putting on his uniform while the other team takes the ice for their own practice. 

As he refills his water bottle, he gets whacked in the shin with the body of a hockey stick. He watches it happen, feels an echo of the impact on his shin guard, before turning to raise an eyebrow at Max.

“Hello to you, too.” He says through a little smile. She rolls her eyes, but smiles back at him.

“They’re here.” She says, in an ominous tone, despite her smile. “You guys seemed to hit it off last night, I’m glad you didn’t scare him away with your weirdness.” 

“I’m not weird, you guys are weird.” He mumbles back, kicking the stick from her hand but catching it before it hits the ground. “Last night was fun. I just hope he doesn’t hate the game as much as I think he’s going to.”

“Awfully concerned about him having a good time.” She leans in closer to him to tease, and while he feels his ears get hot, he shoves the hockey stick back into her arms and walks back toward his locker. “Dustin is working in the AV booth tonight, so be prepared for a lot of Eddie on the big screen.”

“You overestimate how much attention I pay to the overhead.” He replies, rolling his eyes and taking a big gulp of water. 

He hadn’t exactly considered the consequences of Eddie actually coming to the game. He was bound to draw a lot of attention, but what would that turn into? Steve had, smartly, elected to stay off the internet after he’d gotten home last night, and he hadn’t bothered to check social media before coming in. He was sure there were pictures and videos of him at the show floating around, insinuating things beyond what they actually meant. He was just as sure that there was at least one person who had taken to their feeds to report that Eddie and Steve had hung out after the show; never mind the fact that everyone else was there. Never mind the fact that they weren’t alone. 

Except they had spent most of the night alone. Other than a few interruptions, their time at Fatpour had mostly consisted of Eddie and Steve sitting at a high-top table close to the bar, munching on snacks and talking about everything and nothing and whatever crossed their minds. Eddie insisted he was going to make a playlist for Steve, and Steve offered to teach Eddie how to ice skate. And it felt… nice. It had been a while since Steve had that with anyone.

Max just moves on, reminding Steve of which stretches he needs to do now that he’s in his gear, and the coach and captain both give speeches in the locker room, before everyone moves out to the rink. They take the ice as the announcer reads off their name, and Steve taps his stick with the right wing who stakes up next to him.

He glances around, chewing on his mouth guard absently. A part of him knows that Robin and Eddie and whoever else from CC made the trip to the game are in one of the boxes around the upper level of the area, but he hadn’t asked which one when he had briefly texted with Eddie this morning, and now it was too late. But, he figures it’s probably for the best. Not knowing where to look keeps him from running the risk of sparking more speculation about nothing.

______

Even having heeded Steve’s warning to wear layers to the game, Eddie is freezing. He’s wearing a long-sleeved t-shirt under a hoodie under a leather jacket, but he’s still cold. And Robin is bouncing around the box suite in a t-shirt and ripped jeans, looking perfectly comfortable and Eddie doesn’t get it. He zips his leather jacket all the way up and sinks into his seat, bobbing his head along to the music echoing through the arena.

“You’re going to be cold when we’re leaving if you don’t take something off.” Robin chastises, and Eddie just rolls his eyes. Jeff, Freak and Lucas are chatting, sitting in the seats just outside of the box. Inside the box, Gareth looks just as cold as Eddie, chatting with Nancy and Will on a sofa.

Paige returns a few minutes later with a bag of merchandise, courtesy of a voucher from the team, and drops it on Gareth’s lap. “Hoodie for you,” She declares, pulling out a black hoodie with the Blackhawks logo and throwing it into Gareth’s face. “Hoodie for you,” She adds, tossing a red one in Eddie’s direction. She pulls two more thinner zip ups out of the bag and drops them on Jeff and Freak’s heads. When she comes back in, she locks eyes with Eddie, who pauses as he unzips his leather jacket.

“What?” He asks, cautiously, and she grins.

“Got something else for you,” She says, and he’s instantly concerned.

“You’re freaking me out.” Eddie points out as he slips the hoodie he’d worn over his head and replaces it with the fleece-lined red hoodie with “Blackhawks” written across the back shoulders. Robin claps and jumps up and down beside him, concerning him further.

“They put one aside!?” She asks, and Paige nods, before tossing the rest of the bag to Eddie.

When he pulls out the contents, he can’t help but let out a little laugh. “You guys asked them to give me a Harrington jersey?” He raises an eyebrow at Robin, before pulling it over his head. It fits a little loose over the hoodie, but looks similar to how he’d seen other people wear theirs.

“Steve doesn’t know, but I asked. Figured you might like it.” She says, grinning as he turns a light shade of pink he fully intends to blame on the cold.

When the team introductions start, Robin drags Eddie out into the seats just outside the box, so they have a better view. While it’s colder out there, Eddie’s warmer in the new tops, and finds he doesn’t mind it as much. 

Robin and the members of the Party in the box break into cheers when Steve skates out onto the ice, and Eddie can’t help the little smile that crosses his face as he watches Steve interact with his team.

The puck drops and Steve manages to slip it away from the Kraken’s center, gliding down the ice effortlessly before passing it off. It’s a tiny thing, trying to pay attention to the puck, so Eddie finds himself just tracking Steve as he zips and twists around. After a few minutes, Steve skates back to the Blackhawks box and jumps in as another player hits the ice.

“What happened? Is he hurt?” Eddie’s confused as he looks at Robin, who gives him a soft smile.

“He’s fine. They only play for so long, before they switch out to keep them from getting tired.”

He tries to pay attention to what’s happening then, with Steve off the ice, but finds himself watching the other sit along the bench. He bangs his stick against the wall a few times, shouting things Eddie can’t hear. When he gets up to go back into the game, he pats the player he’s replacing on the back before hitting the ice. 

The next chance he gets the puck, he takes a shot toward the goalie, who stops the puck between his legs. Steve keeps skating, zipping around and getting back into the action. He gets the puck back, but is quickly checked by two Krakens who send him into the boards hard. Eddie grimaces, and a penalty is called on both Krakens for charging.

Steve scores a goal in the second period, and Eddie joins the Party in cheering along. He spots himself on the big screen and grabs Robin, pulling her into frame as she jumps up and down. 

The celebrations die down a little, and Robin scooches closer to him. “I can have them knock it off, if you don’t want to be up there. Dustin’s in the booth right now.” She offers, and he shrugs.

“I don’t mind. I kind of expected it, after the TikTok blew up.” He shrugs, tracking Steve back around the ice.

Blackhawks end up winning the game, 5-2, and while Steve doesn’t score again, he assists in each of the following goals. Each time, he has a different celebration with whoever he set up for the goal, and it’s sweet to watch Steve goof off, to hear his friends' excitement as he succeeds.  Walking back out of the booth, Eddie feels like his voice is more raw from screaming at the hockey game than it was from last night’s concert. 

_____________

“You shouldn’t skip the ice bath, Steve, you took a hard hit into that wall.” Max is lecturing as they move through the arena to where she says everyone is waiting. 

“I’m fine, I’ve taken worse hits and I stretched plenty. My shoulder just dug into the pad wrong. I’ll have a bruise, but it’s fine.” He insists, holding the door open for her then following her into the box where chaos immediately erupts.

Mike and Lucas are bouncing around, gushing about how great he played. Steve laughs, squeezing Lucas’ shoulder and ruffling Mike’s hair, before his eyes land on the band. They’re all wearing fresh Blackhawks gear, and Steve can’t help but grin.

“Oh man, I’m so glad you guys were able to come! Did you have a good time?” He asks, moving closer to them.

“Dude, I fucking love hockey. I haven’t been to a game in forever, this was sick. And you were killing it out there. I think I like hockey even more knowing someone who is playing.” Freak says, and Gareth nods along.

“Hockey is the only sport I’d ever really been interested in, so this was fun! Great game.”

“I have never had an interest in hockey before, but it was still cool to learn about.” Jeff admits, and then Steve turns to Eddie. His hands are tucked up inside the sleeves of the jersey, nestled in the front pocket of the hoodie beneath, but he grins.

“I concede, it was a lot more fun than I anticipated. I think it helps that you were awesome out there.”

Steve turns a soft shade of pink, shaking his head before nodding back toward the door out of the box. “Want to grab dinner with us? I’m starving.”

______________

They’re in some bar Steve texted the directions to but Eddie can’t remember the name, when he catches Steve staring at him from his spot between Dustin and Lucas. Eddie raises an eyebrow and waves a little, which seems to snap Steve out of it. He blushes and waves back, before covering his face with his hands. Eddie snorts, before getting up and moving so he’s sitting across from Steve.

“You weren’t mad that I put you up on the big screen, right? I think the team actually put it up on socials at some point, so I hope you didn’t mind.” Dustin rambles at Eddie as soon as he sits, but he’s quick to ease the kid’s concerns.

“It was fun. Don’t worry about it, kid. Really.” He says, watches Dustin visibly relax, but then Robin carts him and Lucas away, giving Steve and Eddie space and tossing a wink in Eddie’s direction. Eddie finds himself growing to appreciate her more and more. “I really did have a good time tonight. Cross my heart.” Eddie says, before drawing an “x” over his heart with his fingers.

Steve laughs, and opens his mouth to say something before he seems to reconsider. He thinks for a moment, before leaning over the table. “Are you wearing my jersey?”

Eddie pauses for a moment, looks down and laughs. He’d forgotten he hadn’t taken it off, and Robin had said that Steve didn’t know about it. “I mean, it’s technically not yours. Just has your name and number on it.”

Steve squints his eyes before he leans back and takes a sip of his beer. Eddie seizes the opportunity to be chaotic, then, decides to take the leap. “I mean, I totally could be wearing your jersey, if you wanted me to. But you’re going to have to take me out of this one first.” 

It’s worth it, if for no other reason than Steve starts choking on his drink, coughing loudly and drawing everyone’s attention. He composes himself quickly, but his face is still bright red, and Eddie grins.

“You’re a menace.” Steve accuses, voice hoarse and thick, and Eddie shrugs.

“What are you going to do about it?” He challenges.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

I'm going to try reblogging with a tag list this week because it's LONG and I have no idea how else to try to make it work without hitting a character limit. Thank you to everyone who is still reading! I've got so many ideas for this bouncing around in my head, I can't wait to flesh them out and I hope you continue to enjoy!

[adorerio]

Oh To Be Yours

Suna x reader

older brothers best friends plot! Miya reader! Ending opening for a part 2! Background info for the next part!

word count: 975

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

Growing up having Atsumu and Osamu as your older brothers was definitely interesting. They always kept you on your toes and was funny being around. The bad part? They never let you talk to boys they didnt aprove of. It started in junior high when a guy your age asked to walk you home. Safe to say your brothers scared him off because "he looked to funky"

Things didn't change when you came to Inarizaki High. Your brothers wanted to protect you so they insisted you join the vollyball team so they could keep an eye on you at first you said no wanting to join another club after school. But, after Atsumu gave your parents a multitude of reasons they started pushing you to join and reluctantly you said yes.

͙͘͡★

After school you walked over to the gym it would be your first day as the manager and the coach had suggested your first few days would be observing and getting used to the team. He said they were a well behaved group of kids - minus your brothers and the person who instigated most small arguments Suna Rintaro.

When he told you that the name sounded familair but you just couldn't grasp who the name belonged to. Maybe someone from your junior high? You kept wracking your brain to find an answer while you were so distracted you walked into the door to the gym and landed on your butt due to the impact

great I hope nobody saw tha-

*click*

did someone actually just take a picture??

Turning your head to see whoever the person was you recognized him-

"Hey your the guy that my brothers always bring home right?"

Offering his hand to help get you back on your feet he answered "yeah that's me your y/n Miya. Your brothers talk about you a lot its kinda annoying y'know."

"Im sorry what's your name again?"

"Suna Rintaro"

oh

͙͘͡★

"Ah y/n I see you met Suna"

The coach saw you two walk in toghether in fact- the whole team did talk about awkward. You noticed Atsumu staring daggers into Suna. Who you would assume was a close friend to him. At this rate he's going to tell Suna to never talk to you and your life would be practically over-

"Everyone huddle up! I would like our new manager to introduce herself. Then you guys can as well and we can start the drills."

god damn it

Having all types of eyes on you made you feel nervouse you actually forgot your own name for a second. You tried looking at your brothers but that just made it worse. Until you met eyes with suna again. It felt different. It felt safe. While locking eyes with him you decided to introduce yourself to him. Everyone else was just there.

"Hello everyone my name is Miya Y/N and I'm a first year here. If you cant already tell my brothers are Atsumu and Osamu but believe me I'm the better sibling. My hobbies are *your hobbies* and I love listing to *your favorite musician*.

The rest of the team introduced themselves to you and they included the position they played. Some people stood out more than others. Like Kita who said he was the captain and he even asked if it was okay to call you by your first name since there was now three Miya siblings instead of two. You were fine with it of course.

The last person to introduce himself was Suna. He kept it short really and avoided eye contact during it. It was weird because when you introduced yourself he locked eyes but now that it was his turn he avoided it. Maybe your brothers had already told him off. And if they did you would find out and probably yell at them for scaring away another guy.

After Suna walked away you decided it would be best to forget what happened outside the gym and focus on the team. Of course you studied them but you would help coach with tasks as well. Like filling up the water bottles, getting vollyballs and the coach would ask for your own input like what could have been done better.

Safe to say for your first day it wasn't that bad.

͙͘͡★

Once you got home you grabbed a snack and locked yourself in your room wanting to avoid any questions your brothers wanted to ask. As you approached your desk you reached for one thing in particular your diary. Your parents had bought it for you for your 13th birthday and you still kept it.

Sure your family was very open with each other and you trusted them fully but it was hard to talk to them for certain things and your parents knew that. That's what your diary was for.

"Dear Diary,

today is -------- and was my first day as the manager of the volleyball team. It was a smooth first day with not to much trouble so probably the best part. But, I also met a guy. I mean does it really count as met he's been to the house before but we never talked. If anything all I got was a nod from him. I always thought he was attractive I mean his eyes its like there's something he's always thinking about. There is never a moment he's just blankly staring.

But of course I never thought of the possibility of dating that's not how it goes with two overprotective brothers. I got to talk to him today tho outside with nobody watching. It was embarassing because of that stupid picture he took.

It might be crazy that over this one interaction I'm hoping for something to happen between us. And I'm hoping he's wishing for the same thing

Oh to be yours"

˚₊‧꒰ა 𓂋 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

AN: well that's a wrap for the first part. Originally it wasn't meant to be a two-parter but I didnt want to rush the ending or make this super long either. The second part will be out once I finish my other wips. Criticism and reqs are always welcome!!

[river-selkie]

I haven't been here in a while. A few months, at least. I live in the United States and I think, unless you've been in a genuine coma, you likely know what my country is going through politically. I don't often mean to get political and truly, I never do, but I feel now more than ever that my therianthropy has a role in something important beyond my personal identity.

My non-working life is largely spent in the national refuges, parks, and reserves across my country. The workers that protect them have been fired.

The habitats of my theriotype and my kithtypes are constantly facing a threat from the 1% of billionaires who view the ocean, the forests, the prairies, the deserts, the arctics, the entire world as a resource to exploit to further their wealth without personal consequence. As if the ecosystem is not a home for billions, if not trillions, of voiceless, living beings.

Forests are being sliced down to produce more cash, line more pockets, make more room for un-needed infrastructure in the wake of a country already on fire from climate change that "doesn't exist".

The arctic is being drilled for oil until it is no longer habitable by the animals who rely on it, and people are fine with this because it does not personally effect them.

The waterfalls and rivers are running dry to use up their water resources with no considerations as to what that will cause or how it will impact things because "that's a problem for the future generation".

The lives of your friends are at stake, the people in our own community, even our family members because of people threatened by differences.

I am tired. I have no choice but to be complacent, but I have never felt more drawn to bite the hands that try to approach me with their cages and leashes and muzzles. As I sit on the beach or by the lake and see the trash accumulating and the rainbow sheen of leaking oil accumulating at the shore, I can't help but ask "what can I do?". I am sitting here in the now, watching this happen and keep wishing this was only a chapter in a history book, but it is not. This is reality.

I feel a sense of personal responsibility for maintaining what little I can for my home as an animal. This body has given me voice, a medium to share it, and the ability to take action as much as possible even if it is a microscopic impact in the wake of billionaire oligarchs.

If we bite their hands, they will use it as a reason to put us down and tighten our muzzles, but we can do something even within our cages. Please, safely go to protests when you can. Boycott large brands. Do not spend your money where possible on big chains or abusive corporations. Clean up your territories and preserve what little land we are allowed to call our own, even if it is small. Grow what you can. Flowers, trees, vegetables, herbs, fruits, plant them all for every bit of nature that we reclaim and expand upon is something they haven't taken. Group up in your communities and support each other. Sign petitions for our animals, for our environment, for our volunteers, for your friends. Speak out on your platforms. Make art, make videos, write posts, make signs, plaster posters in your neighborhoods, actively fight the censorship. Fight them in the ways they don't want us to fight them, and do not let them convince you that your actions are too small to make a difference. Any difference is better than no difference, and combined efforts make large waves. And most importantly...

They cannot take our ferality.

Do not let them euthanize you.

[ayeforscotland]

What is Dataflow? Part 3: Doing the Practical

Apologies for the delay in getting this next section up - past few weeks have been super busy and then, hilariously, I was ill last week.

Read Part 1 here.

Read Part 2 here.

In Part 2 I wrote about how important diagrams have been throughout history. Understanding the 'big picture' has been important for every triumph of engineering. From bridges to skyscrapers to oil rigs and wind turbines, all of these have had diagrams backed by international standards which enabled them to be built.

The digital world hasn't quite managed that yet. In the other posts I've tried to drill home the point that modern digital businesses are often extremely siloed, communication and documentation isn't there and there is a lack of a common language between 'Business' and 'IT'.

This lack of understanding means organisations do not understand how data flows through their business and their supply chain.

It's the understanding of dataflow that's important here because it enables organisations to focus on optimising, securing and maintaining flows across an organisation rather than siloed teams patching things up where they can and not understand the upstream and downstream impact on the business.

Method and Layers

Going to preface this by saying that this may come across as complete common sense, and to some extent you'll be completely correct!

This is an example of how to create a very basic dataflow. But I will first start with understanding all of the People, Processes and Technology that I use to post on Tumblr.

So I start with six layers:

Ownership

Business Process

Application

System

Hardware

Infrastructure

What is important to remember here is that you do not have to be a specialist in every single layer.

A Business Analyst will feel much more at home in the Business Process Layer, while an Infrastructure Manager will be much more knowledgeable about the Infrastructure layer.

The important thing is that this Business & IT Diagram allows them to communicate more efficiently.

Let's Build a Dataflow!

In this example - There's an 'AyeforScotland' Element (the rectangle!) at the top. I'm the owner of everything below that element. The black lines are 'connections' representing the connectivity between the different elements.

Following the example, I'm responsible for' managing my blog 'Blog Management' which breaks down into smaller processes: Draft posts, schedule posts, answer anon abuse, and reblog shitposts.

Coming down to the Application Layer (red) - You can see that I draft and schedule posts using Tumblr Desktop and I'm using Firefox Web Browser for that.

But for answering anon abuse and reblogging shitposts, I'm using the Tumblr App.

In the Systems layer you can see I'm using Windows 11 on my PC (Hardware) and I'm using iOS on my iPhone.

Both my PC and iPhone connect to my BT Router.

And that's it for this Business & IT Diagram. I've shown clearly how I'm responsible for the processes and how I use the technology to perform those processes. I don't necessarily need to show everything on a single diagram because it would lose clarity.

This next Business & IT Diagram is much smaller, and establishes the relationships and dependencies on Tumblr to provide the service. And that's because we're complying with the laws and rules of a methodology.

In this diagram (probably need to zoom in to see it) I'm at the top left as 'AyeforScotland' and my 'BT Router' is spatially below me. Following the rules and laws of the method, that maintains the relationship that I have with the BT Router, I own it.

But I don't own the small 'Internet' that's next to it horizontally. I've simplified the concept of the internet for this example.

There's also two owners - 'Automattic' which owns and operates 'Tumblr' below it, with Tumblr being responsible for the 'Provision of Tumblr Services'.

Now naturally 'provision of Tumblr services' will break out into loads of sub-processes. Tumblr could map out their entire organisation (and if they need a hand, they can DM me!) But for this dataflow it's not really required.

Now both diagrams above are not dataflows. But close your eyes for a second and you can visualise what they are.

But because we've created our two diagrams, we understand the connectivity and using the software we can create the dataflow.

Now again, this is very basic. But when you put things into a dataflow context, you can put this down in front of a wide range of people from different business disciplines and they can start to optimise how the business works.

Here's a much larger Dataflow example, that you won't be able to read because it exceeds A0 printing size, but it should convey the scale.

If any of the connections or elements fail along this dataflow - The dataflow stops.

This costs organisations time and/or money.

So understanding dataflows allows IT people to articulate to business people "Hi boss, if this server goes down it will bring down this dataflow and cost the business $10,000 an hour" - Suddenly it's in a language they understand.

It helps with strategic decision-making, it helps with communication, it helps document how things *actually* work as opposed to how people think they work, and once you switch to thinking in terms of 'dataflow' it's hard to stop.

Conclusion

I can't wait to answer all the questions on the back of this.

Also one area I didn't go into is that each of the elements (rectangles) can also hold data (Financial data, Technical Specs, Risk & Cybersecurity metrics, Governance documentation etc).

It's also really easy to get started with it. You can start in any of the layers based on your area of work.

[moonselune]

I love your writing and especially how you write the dark companions! If you could, could you write the Dark Companions with a Chaos Magic! Tav (willing) causing a big and destructive accident at their homes? Tav likes to get experimental with how their magic works but sometimes they play with the settings too much and boom.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Dark!BG3 | Chaos

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

For: Conqueror!Minthara, MotherSuperior!Shadowheart, God!Gale, Ascended!Astarion, Naturist!Halsin, GrandDuke!Wyll

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

CW: Controlling, manipulation, coercion, injury, forced memory loss

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Conqueror Minthara:

The training yard was quiet, too quiet for someone like you. You thrived in chaos, and the humdrum of Minthara’s disciplined soldiers drilling and training day in and day out was suffocating. What harm could a little experiment do to liven things up? After all, wasn’t chaos what she admired most about you? So, with a mischievous grin and sparks of chaotic energy dancing at your fingertips, you began to weave your spell.

Your goal was simple—or so you thought. Enhance the soldiers’ abilities, make them faster, deadlier, maybe even a touch more intimidating. A few tweaks here and there, and you could gift Minthara an army like no other. But chaos magic, as always, had its own ideas.

The air crackled with unstable energy, and the spell spiraled out of your control faster than you could react. The soldiers began to shift, their bodies contorting grotesquely. Limbs multiplied, eyes emerged in clusters, and chitinous armor replaced skin. Within moments, Minthara’s proud warriors had been transformed into a horde of spiders—some small and quick, others massive and terrifying, their mandibles clicking menacingly.

You stared at your handiwork, equal parts horrified and impressed. They certainly were intimidating, and you couldn’t help but marvel at their newfound monstrous beauty. Still, this wasn’t exactly what you’d planned, and the sound of heavy footsteps approaching—accompanied by Minthara’s unmistakable booming voice—snapped you out of your reverie.

“What in the Abyss is going on here?!” her voice rang out, sharp and commanding. Before you could even think of an excuse, Minthara stormed into the clearing, her eyes widening at the sight of her mutated soldiers.

Her gaze snapped to you, fiery and accusing, and you barely had time to react before she grabbed you by the front of your robes and slammed you against the nearest wall. The impact knocked the air from your lungs, but you quickly plastered on your sweetest, most innocent smile.

“My love,” you purred, your tone honeyed, “I can explain.”

Minthara’s grip tightened, her strength as fearsome as ever.

“I don’t want explanations,” she hissed, her face inches from yours. “I want to know what you’ve done to my soldiers!”

“It was an accident!” you protested, your voice laced with faux sweetness. “I was experimenting with ways to make them... better. Stronger. More terrifying for your enemies. Just look at them!” You gestured toward the scuttling mass of spiders with a flourish. “Aren’t they magnificent?”

Minthara’s eyes narrowed, her expression caught somewhere between fury and disbelief.

“Magnificent? You turned my warriors into monsters! How am I supposed to lead a campaign with this?” she demanded, though her gaze flickered briefly to one particularly large spider, its glossy black carapace shimmering in the torchlight. You leaned in as much as her hold allowed, your voice softening.

“But they’re your monsters, my dear. Your favorite little creatures, aren’t they?” You gave her your most winning smile, as though that would smooth over the utter chaos you’d unleashed.

Minthara glared at you, her lips pressing into a thin line. For a moment, you thought she might truly lose her temper, and your heart raced as you scrambled to think of something—anything—to defuse the situation.

Tentatively, you leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to her cheek, testing her resolve. “You’re not mad at me, are you?”

Her eyes softened, just a fraction at the bewildrerment of your audacity to just kiss your cheek at a time like this, and she let out a long, exasperated sigh.

“You’re lucky I tolerate your madness,” she muttered, releasing her grip on your robes. “But do not mistake my patience for leniency.”

Feigning a wounded look, you placed a hand over your heart. “You wound me, Minthara. I thought you loved me for my chaos.”

She turned away, her gaze sweeping over the mutated soldiers with a mixture of disgust and reluctant acceptance.

“I do,” she admitted, her voice low, “but there are limits.”

You stepped closer, emboldened by her words, and wrapped your arms around her waist, pulling her into a possessive kiss. Your lips pressed against hers with a fervor that made her stiffen for a moment before she melted into your embrace. When you finally pulled back, her expression was conflicted, her eyes alight with a mixture of annoyance and something deeper.

“Don’t push it,” she warned, her voice steady but softer now.

You smirked, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “I wouldn’t dream of it. But admit it, my love—you wouldn’t want me any other way.”

Minthara’s lips quirked into the faintest of smiles, and though she rolled her eyes, you could see the flicker of affection in her gaze. As she turned her attention back to the chaos you had created, you couldn’t help but feel a swell of pride. She might grumble and scold, but deep down, you knew she loved you for the chaos you brought into her life—even if it meant turning her soldiers into spiders.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Mother Superior Shadowheart:

The dimly lit chamber had been alive with reverence and devotion just moments ago, the Sharran faithful gathered in solemn worship. Their low chanting filled the air like a dark melody, a display of absolute obedience and purpose that you knew Shadowheart valued deeply. Of course, where she saw discipline and grace, you saw an irresistible opportunity for chaos.

Experimenting with your magic was practically second nature, and the rigid solemnity of the scene practically begged for a little disruption. A flick of your wrist, a whispered incantation, and—boom.

The room was consumed by a flash of violet and black light, and when the smoke cleared, the kneeling Sharrans were gone. In their place was a scattered array of glittering obsidian jewelry—rings, pendants, even a particularly elegant brooch—all lying where the devotees had once been. You tilted your head, inspecting the results with a mixture of pride and amusement.

“Well,” you said, breaking the heavy silence. “That wasn’t exactly what I was going for, but look at the craftsmanship! Stunning.”

Behind you, Shadowheart’s sharp intake of breath was the only warning before she whirled to face you. Her expression was a tempest of shock, anger, and disbelief.

“What,” she hissed, her voice dangerously low, “have you done?”

You turned to her with a wide grin, holding up a particularly intricate pendant.

“Relax, darling. They’re not gone, not really. They’re just... improved! Look at this one—it’s gorgeous.” You turned the pendant toward the dim torchlight, admiring the way it caught the faint glow. “I mean, it really brings out the essence of Shar, don’t you think?”

Shadowheart pinched the bridge of her nose, muttering a prayer to Shar under her breath, though you had a feeling it was less about devotion and more about patience.

“Fix it,” she demanded, her tone steely. You picked up another piece—a delicate obsidian ring—and turned to her with a playful smile.

“This one, though. This one would look incredible on you.” You held it up, as if presenting a gift. “Go on, try it. You’d look like the embodiment of Shar herself.”

Her gaze hardened, though a flicker of amusement danced behind her stern expression.

“Fix it,” she repeated. “Now.”

You sighed dramatically, leaning against the altar and turning the ring in your fingers. “Only if you say please.”

Shadowheart’s lips pressed into a thin line, her eyes narrowing. “The Mother Superior does not say please.”

You grinned, letting the ring clink softly back onto the altar.

“Good,” you said breezily, “because I have absolutely no idea how to turn them back.”

Her expression faltered, a flicker of disbelief giving way to a sigh that was equal parts exasperation and reluctant fondness.

“Why am I not surprised?” she muttered, stepping closer to you.

“Hey,” you protested lightly, holding your hands up in mock innocence. “In my defense, this was a very high-level experiment. And,” you added with a sly smile, “if you think about it, this is a kind of devotion. They’re serving Shar eternally now, as fashion statements. I call that commitment.”

Shadowheart let out a soft laugh, shaking her head as she looked at you.

“You are insufferable,” she said, but her tone had softened, a glint of affection warming her words. “And yet... I can’t seem to stay angry with you.”

You straightened, your grin widening. “That’s because you love me.”

She rolled her eyes, but the corners of her mouth lifted ever so slightly. “Don’t push your luck.”

“Come on, admit it,” you teased, leaning closer. “You adore me and my chaotic ways.”

Shadowheart’s hand reached up, surprising you as she cupped your cheek gently.

“You’re reckless and infuriating,” she murmured, her thumb brushing over your skin, “but yes, I adore you.”

The words sent a thrill through you, and you leaned into her touch, savoring the rare affection she offered so freely in this moment.

“See?” you said, your voice soft and teasing. “You’re not so scary when you’re being sweet.”

“Don’t test me,” she warned, though her smile betrayed her. “Now, fix this—or try to.”

You hesitated, your mind already buzzing with a dozen excuses, but before you could respond, the obsidian jewelry began to glow faintly, vibrating where it lay. Slowly, the shimmering forms of the Sharrans began to reappear, their chanting resuming as if nothing had happened.

“Well,” you said, stepping back with a satisfied grin. “Problem solved. See? I didn’t even need to lift a finger.”

Shadowheart raised an eyebrow, her gaze lingering on you. “You’re lucky it resolved itself.”

“Lucky?” you repeated, feigning indignation. “Please. That was all part of my brilliant plan.”

Shadowheart shook her head, but this time she pulled you closer, her arms wrapping around your waist.

“You’re reckless and foolish,” she murmured again, her lips brushing against your forehead. “But you’re mine. Just... try not to turn my acolytes into accessories again.”

“No promises,” you teased, leaning in to steal a quick kiss.

Her laughter was soft, but her hold on you tightened briefly, as if grounding herself in the chaos you brought to her world.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

God of Ambition Gale:

It started as one of your more ambitious experiments, a blend of chaos magic and raw creativity, designed to bring a spark of inspiration to the mundane, dull mortal realm. You thrived in chaos, but there was something uniquely satisfying about crafting chaos that could be useful—or so you told yourself as you conjured a small, shimmering creature into existence.

Its body glimmered like liquid starlight, constantly shifting and pulsing with energy, and its eyes sparkled with a mischievous intelligence. It was a muse made manifest, a creature designed to inspire boundless creativity in anyone it touched.

You held the little beast in your hands, its soft purring vibrations tickling your palms.

“Perfect,” you murmured to yourself, admiring your handiwork. “This little guy is going to change the world.”

Your first test subject was a sleepy mortal village nestled in a picturesque valley. With a wave of your hand and a whispered incantation, you sent the creature spiraling down to the mortal plane, watching with eager curiosity as it darted between homes and into the lives of the unsuspecting villagers.

Gale stood beside you in his domain, his arms crossed, his expression a mix of skepticism and intrigue.

“You do realize these things never go as planned,” he said, his tone laced with dry humor.

“Oh, ye of little faith, God of Ambition,” you replied, grinning as you conjured an ethereal window to observe your experiment. “Watch and learn.”

The results were immediate. The villagers, once ordinary and unimaginative, became suddenly, brilliantly creative. Paintings adorned walls, melodies filled the air, and intricate sculptures sprang up seemingly overnight. The drudgery of daily life transformed into a vibrant tapestry of artistic expression. Gale raised an eyebrow as he watched, his lips quirking into a reluctant smile.

“Well,” he admitted, “I must say, I expected worse.”

“See?” you said smugly, leaning back and gesturing toward the scene below. “I’ve created something wonderful.”

For a moment, you basked in the glory of your creation, the little muse flitting about the village like a benevolent sprite, igniting inspiration wherever it went. But then... something shifted.

One by one, the villagers began to grow pale, their vitality waning as their art became more fevered, more frantic. Their joy turned to obsession, their creations taking on a dark, almost desperate edge. You leaned forward, your grin fading into a frown.

“Uh-oh,” you muttered.

Gale let out a long-suffering sigh, already anticipating what was to come.

“Let me guess,” he said, his tone heavy with resignation. “It feeds off them.”

Before you could respond, the first villager collapsed, their body withering into nothingness as the muse absorbed the last of their life force. The creature grew larger, its shimmering body now tinged with ominous hues of red and black. It moved on to the next villager, then the next, its hunger insatiable.

“Well,” you said with an awkward laugh, scratching the back of your neck. “I mean... no experiment is perfect.”

Gale gave you a withering look, his fingers already crackling with power. “You’re lucky I’m here to clean up your messes.”

“Wait, wait!” you protested, grabbing his arm. “It’s not that bad! Maybe they’re fine? Or—or maybe this is just part of its process! Artistic sacrifices and all that? Ambition demands a price.”

Gale didn’t dignify your excuses with a response. With a sharp snap of his fingers, a beam of radiant energy lanced from his hand, striking the creature below. It let out a piercing, otherworldly cry before disintegrating into a shower of harmless starlight. The villagers who remained collapsed in exhaustion, their lives spared, but their inspiration gone.

You pouted, crossing your arms as Gale turned back to you. “You didn’t even let me try to fix it.”

He raised an eyebrow, his expression unimpressed. “And how exactly were you planning to fix a creature that consumes its muses? By giving it a snack and hoping for the best?”

You opened your mouth to argue but found yourself at a loss for words.

“Well... maybe,” you admitted finally.

Gale sighed again, rubbing his temples. “Next time, perhaps test your creations somewhere a little less populated. Or better yet, not at all.”

You smirked, leaning closer to him. “Admit it, though. It was kind of brilliant.”

“It was chaos,” he replied, though his lips twitched with the faintest hint of a smile. “But then again, that’s why I keep you around.”

You beamed, wrapping your arms around his waist. “See? You can’t resist my brilliance—or my chaos.”

He chuckled softly, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “One day, your chaos is going to be the end of my immortal existence.”

“But not today,” you teased, already conjuring ideas for your next experiment.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Ascended Astarion:

The moment the radiant sphere erupted in your hands, you knew you had made a catastrophic mistake. Warm, golden daylight spilled out, illuminating the room in a way the Underdark had never seen before. For a heartbeat, it was beautiful, shimmering rays glinting off the stone walls like a living masterpiece. And then you heard it—the anguished screams and hisses of Astarion’s vampire spawn as the light enveloped them.

You turned slowly, your heart sinking as you watched them disintegrate into heaps of ash, one after another, their forms crumbling away until all that remained was silence and piles of fine, gray dust scattered across the floor.

The sphere flickered and faded, leaving you standing in the aftermath of your chaotic magic experiment, the air heavy with the acrid scent of burning. You winced, the gravity of what you’d done crashing down on you.

Before you could even think of how to explain yourself, you felt it—Astarion’s piercing gaze. Slowly, you turned to see him standing in the doorway, his face a picture of perfect, seething stillness. One elegant finger raised, stopping you in your tracks before you could utter a single syllable.

“Not. A. Word.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but his crimson eyes narrowed, a dangerous glint warning you against testing his patience.

“But—” you tried, your voice small and hopeful.

“Not.” He took a step closer, his voice dropping to a velvet growl that could freeze the very air. “A single word.”

Your shoulders slumped, and you glanced down at the ash piles surrounding you.

“It wasn’t intentional,” you murmured, unable to resist defending yourself.

“Hush!” Astarion hissed sharply, his hand cutting through the air like a blade. His tone was less a command and more a promise that any further protests would be deeply unwise.

You bit your lip, trying to look contrite, though your inherent nature made it difficult not to fidget. “I mean, technically—”

“Technically?” Astarion’s voice dripped with incredulity, and his perfectly arched brow shot up. “Technically, my beloved spawn are now piles of ash. Technically, you just obliterated potential centuries of loyalty and power. But by all means, technically explain yourself.”

You winced, taking a small step back, only to realize that you were leaving a footprint in what was once one of his favorite lieutenants.

Astarion noticed too, his gaze dropping to the ashes before rising back to meet yours with an expression so icy it could freeze the very sun that had caused this debacle. He exhaled slowly, a hand coming up to pinch the bridge of his nose.

“You are,” he began, his tone eerily calm, “so incredibly, unbelievably lucky that I love you more than anything else in this wretched world.”

You blinked, momentarily stunned by the declaration, but before you could bask in it, he continued.

“Because if anyone else—and I do mean anyone—had dared to incinerate my progeny, they would have found themselves meeting the same fate without hesitation.”

You couldn’t help but grin, your chaotic nature sparking in your expression. “So you do love me more than anyone else.”

“Do not test me.” His tone was flat, but there was no missing the faint twitch of amusement at the corner of his lips.

You stepped forward cautiously, brushing some ash off your hands in an awkward attempt at tidying up.

“To be fair,” you began, choosing your words carefully, “it was an accident. I was trying to conjure something... atmospheric.”

“Atmospheric,” he repeated, his voice dripping with disdain.

“Yes,” you said, nodding fervently. “Like... ambiance! Who doesn’t love a little sunlight?”

Astarion’s eyes narrowed, his patience visibly wearing thin.

“Darling,” he said, his voice dangerously sweet, “you are the only person in existence who could accidentally decimate my inner circle and then attempt to justify it as an improvement to the mood lighting.”

You shrugged, managing a sheepish smile. “Well, you did give me sun resilience. So really, this was a sign of my gratitude!”

Astarion let out a sharp, humorless laugh, shaking his head as if trying to make sense of the chaos that was you.

“I don’t know whether to throttle you or kiss you senseless,” he muttered.

You tilted your head, a mischievous glint in your eyes. “I’d vote for kissing. It’s a much better use of our time.”

For a moment, Astarion simply stared at you, his expression torn between exasperation and adoration. Finally, he stepped forward, his cold fingers tilting your chin up as he leaned in close.

“You,” he whispered, his lips brushing against yours, “are an absolute menace.”

“And yet,” you replied, your smile blooming as you kissed him softly, “you love me for it.”

Astarion sighed against your lips, his arms winding around you despite the mess you’d made. “Unfortunately for me, I do.”

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Naturist Halsin:

The spell had seemed like a good idea at the time. You had been sitting in the heart of the grove, surrounded by nature’s endless beauty, and your chaotic mind had begun to itch with ideas. Surely, a little magical boost could elevate this place even further—make it a sanctuary unlike any other. A burst of inspiration struck, and you channeled your chaotic magic with all the finesse you could muster, shaping it into something you hoped would enhance the grove's splendor.

The result, however, was not quite what you intended.

Flowers erupted from the druids around you—not sprouting from the earth, but from their very bodies. Roses tore through flesh with violent grace, twisting stems of ivy coiled around limbs like serpents, and delicate petals unfurled from places they were never meant to grow. It was horrifying and beautiful all at once, a grotesque display of life overtaking life.

The grove now stood transformed into a macabre garden, vibrant blooms swaying gently in the wind as if proud of their horrific origins. You stared at your work, hands still outstretched, your eyes wide.

“Oh... oh no,” you muttered under your breath, already bracing for the inevitable lecture.

It didn’t take long for Halsin to appear, striding through the chaos like a wolf stalking its prey. His presence was a calming one, though it only made your heart hammer harder in anticipation of the reprimand you surely deserved. You turned to him, words of apology tumbling to your lips before you could even think them through.

“Halsin, I—I was trying to make the grove more beautiful! I didn’t mean for... this,” you said, gesturing helplessly to the floral carnage. “I can fix it, I swear—”

He cut you off with a raised hand, his expression unreadable as he surveyed the scene. For a long, agonizing moment, he said nothing, his piercing gaze moving over the flower-covered remains of the druids who had once called this grove home. You expected anger, disappointment, perhaps even sorrow. What you didn’t expect was the low chuckle that rumbled in his chest.

“Fix it?” Halsin repeated, his voice rich with amusement. “Why would you want to fix this?”

You blinked, unsure if you had heard him correctly. “Wait... you’re not mad?”

He turned to you, his green eyes alight with something you couldn’t quite place—something possessive, primal.

“No, I’m not mad. If anything, I’m impressed. This garden...” He stepped closer, his hand brushing lightly against one of the flowers blooming from a former druid’s shoulder. “...is stunning. A testament to your power.”

Your jaw dropped slightly, a mix of relief and disbelief flooding you. “But... they’re... they’re dead.”

“Yes,” Halsin said simply, a faint smirk playing at his lips. “And they were annoying me anyway.”

You stared at him, unsure if he was serious or merely teasing. “Annoying you?”

“Always looking at you as though they had a chance,” he said, his tone darkening just enough to send a shiver down your spine. “As if they could ever be worthy of your attention. Of your heart.”

His words sent a flush of warmth through you, though you couldn’t help but feel slightly unnerved by the intensity in his gaze. “Halsin... you know my heart belongs to you, right? There’s no competition.”

“I know,” he said, his large hand cupping your cheek as he leaned in to press a kiss to your temple. “But it doesn’t mean I enjoyed their little fantasies. It seems your chaos has solved that problem for me.”

You laughed nervously, still unsure whether to feel flattered or alarmed. “So... you’re okay with this? The whole... accidental flower massacre?”

“More than okay,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your cheek now, warm and reassuring. “You’ve made the grove a better place, and you’ve shown those fools exactly where they stand—beneath us.”

You raised a brow at him, your own chaotic nature bubbling up as a mischievous grin spread across your face. “You’re not just saying that because it’s... convenient, are you?”

Halsin chuckled again, pulling you closer until your bodies were flush. “I’m saying it because it’s the truth. You are powerful, unpredictable, and utterly mine. Why wouldn’t I admire your work?”

His lips found yours in a possessive kiss, and you melted into him, the tension from your magical mishap finally ebbing away. As his hands tangled in your hair, you couldn’t help but think that perhaps chaos wasn’t such a bad thing after all—especially when it made Halsin look at you like that.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Grand Duke Wyll:

The garden ball was in full swing, an opulent display of noble finery and delicate laughter echoing under the twinkling stars. Lanterns hung from the trees, casting a warm glow over the meticulously kept grounds, and the scent of blooming flowers mingled with the sweet aroma of wine. You couldn’t help but feel a little restless, your chaotic magic itching under your skin, desperate for an outlet.

“Just a little experiment,” you whispered to yourself, your fingers twitching with barely contained energy.

The spell you conjured was harmless—or so you thought. It started as a whimsical idea: wouldn’t it be delightful if the nobles could see the garden from above? You shaped your magic with care (or as much care as your chaos-addled mind could muster), releasing it into the air with a flourish.

At first, it worked beautifully. One by one, the nobles began to rise gently from the ground, their laughter turning to gasps of astonishment as they floated higher and higher. You clapped your hands, delighted with your handiwork, until you realized two very important details:

This was an open-air garden ball.

The nobles were not stopping.

“Oh no,” you breathed, watching as they began to drift, their jeweled gowns and tailored coats flapping in the night breeze like gaudy, oversized kites.

Panicked shouts began to replace the initial awe as the nobles realized they had no control over their ascent. Wine glasses were dropped, fans fluttered uselessly, and more than one monocle was lost to the growing chaos.

“Darling!” Wyll’s familiar voice cut through the din, and you turned to see him striding toward you, his noble bearing still intact despite the absurdity unfolding above. His expression was one of exasperation laced with fondness, a combination you had grown all too familiar with.

Before you could explain yourself, he held up a hand, silencing your excuses. “Let me guess,” he said, his tone light but edged with amusement. “You thought this would be enchanting?”

“It is enchanting!” you protested, gesturing to the nobles now gently spinning like celestial decorations against the dark sky. “Look at them! They’re having a... unique experience.”

Wyll raised an elegant brow, his gaze flicking upward. “Unique is certainly one word for it.” He sighed, shaking his head, though there was a ghost of a smile tugging at his lips. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

“Only because you love me,” you said, flashing him a cheeky grin.

He chuckled, his frustration melting as he reached for a nearby tablecloth. With a flourish, he spread it over the grass, its once-pristine edges now brushing against the earth. Then, to your surprise, he lowered himself onto it, patting the space beside him.

“Come on,” he said, his voice softer now. “If we’re going to watch the nobles drift into the heavens, we might as well do it comfortably.”

You hesitated for a moment, unsure if he was serious, but the warmth in his eyes reassured you. Smiling, you joined him, lying back against the makeshift picnic blanket. The two of you gazed upward, watching as the nobles continued their unintentional journey, their cries growing fainter with distance.

“You know,” Wyll mused, his arm brushing against yours, “this might actually be one of the more amusing spectacles I’ve seen at a ball.”

“You’re welcome,” you said smugly, earning a soft laugh from him.

He turned his head to look at you, his expression tender.

“You’re trouble, beloved” he said, leaning in to brush a kiss against your temple. “But you’re my trouble.”

You nestled closer to him, your chaotic heart settling in the comfort of his presence. Together, you lay under the stars, watching the nobles fade into tiny specks against the vast expanse of sky, the garden ball below forgotten in favor of the strange and unexpected beauty you had created.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

I don't know why but it got weirdly wholesome at the end. I do love writing for this series and it was a good one to get back into the requests queue again. I am going to try and get back to regular posting but this virus is killing me as is being a corporate girlie at the same time ahaha. Anyway I love you all and I hope you guys enjoyed it! - Seluney xox

If you want to support me in other ways | Help keep this moonmaiden caffeinated x

[redroomreflections]

When in Bloom

Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

A Family of Her Own Series

10/10

Masterlist | General Masterlist

w/c: 7.9k

Summary: After the fall of the Avengers, Natasha Romanoff returns home to her secret family—a life she's carefully hidden away for years. Struggling to balance her role as a mother and wife while avoiding the dangers of her past, Natasha is forced to make difficult decisions that impact her loved ones.

This Chapter: Natasha makes the ultimate sacrifice.

Note: I spent my entire Sunday writing this. I paused and rewound the movie 50 times. I utilized ChatGPT to help me with timelines. I read the script. I pulled out all the resources to ensure I did my big one for y'all. Special shoutout to Grammarly Premium for making my writing look and sound professional-like. Enjoy =)

Breakfast was always something Natasha found important. In her mind, it was more than just a meal; it was the fuel that powered her through the day. She never skipped it, a rare and comforting constant in her life. Even now, in a quiet city apartment far removed from the chaos of her past, the ritual of making breakfast each morning grounded her.

In the Red Room, food was always viewed strictly as fuel, something utilitarian and calculated. She never spoke much about those years, especially not with Nicky—he was still too young to understand, and she didn’t want that darkness clouding his view of her. But she could remember the harsh regimens, the rigid routines, the lessons drilled into her: taking care of herself wasn’t a luxury; it was mandatory. A weak Widow was a liability; weakness was something she had never been allowed to show.

She tried not to think too deeply about what her training had left her with—it was just one more thing in a long line of things that had happened to her.

"Mama, I'm almost ready," Nicky shuffled to the room with his laces untied and jacket hanging from his body. Ollie walked with him at his tail. He sat next to Natasha, looking up with big, hopeful eyes.

"I don't have anything for you, sweet boy," Natasha smiled apologetically. Ollie whined and laid his head on the floor. Natasha turned away from the dog to inspect Nicky. He was sitting on the floor, his hands attempting to tie his laces as his little tongue stuck out.

"What do you need, Myshka?" Natasha asked, and Nicky held his foot up.

"I can't do the knots, they're too small."

Natasha smiled and tied his shoes. She stood up, and Nicky followed suit, his coat fully zipped and his backpack slung over his shoulders.

"Can we stop for hot chocolate on the way to school?"

"I made breakfast," Natasha shook her head.

"Eggs and toast again?" He asked as he sat at the table.

"Eggs and toast," Natasha nodded. It was all she knew how to make without burning.

"Okay," Nicky sighed, "but I want a donut tomorrow."

Natasha rolled her eyes.

"We'll see," she answered.

"It's a promise!" He said.

"You know how I feel about those," she chided. "I don't make them unless I can follow through."

Nicky dug into his eggs and toast with a resigned but good-natured sigh; Natasha sat across from him, her phone buzzing softly on the table. She’d promised herself that breakfast would always be their time, uninterrupted, but the messages were piling up.

Okoye: "Natasha, we’re seeing unusual cartel activity in Mexico City. I think it’s Barton."

Rhodes: "Saw the same. We have casualties this time—he’s not holding back anymore. Might be time to intervene."

She rubbed her temples, reading over each message carefully. It had been like this for months: catching glimpses of Barton’s brutal one-man war, getting vague reports, but never close enough to reach him. And each new incident seemed to confirm what she already knew—Clint was spiraling, slipping further away with every mission.

Nicky munched on his toast, his little eyes flitting between her and Ollie, who was sulking on the floor. She gave him a quick smile, trying to shake the tension out of her shoulders, and typed a response.

"I'm on it. I'll be at the compound in an hour," She typed.

"Who's that?" Nicky asked, his eyes still watching Ollie.

"A friend," Natasha said, putting her phone down. "They're working on a case."

"The Avenger kind of case?"

"Exactly the kind," she nodded.

"Can I go on a mission with you someday?"

"Hmm, you have to finish first grade and learn to tie your shoes," She said. "Then we can talk."

Nicky finished the rest of his breakfast, and Natasha helped him clean up and get his backpack ready. As she grabbed her jacket, Natasha saw a message flash from another chat, this one from Nora.

Nora: "Hey, are we still on for tonight? Let me know what you’re in the mood for."

They’d only met a few months ago, but Natasha was easing into an unlikely friendship with Nora. They both tried to ignore the fact that they'd almost slept together. Their camaraderie was something she needed during this time. Someone who didn't know her world. Someone as a listening ear.

She hadn’t told Nora much about her past or work—what she could share, anyway—but Nora seemed to sense her guardedness and never pressed for more.

Natasha quickly typed back:

Natasha: "Still on for tonight. Maybe something low-key? Let’s catch up."

She tucked the phone into her jacket pocket and helped Nicky and Ollie out of the apartment, locking the door behind them.

Their walk to his bus stop was uneventful. Nicky counted the steps to the corner, babbling to her about something she had no idea about. Traffic at this time was nonexistent, especially after the Snap. It was just her, Nicky, and Ollie walking, their steps in sync.

"Remember your homework and ensure you're practicing your cursive," she reminded him.

"I know, I will," Nicky huffed.

"Have a good day at school," Natasha said, crouching down to Nicky's level. "I love you, always."

"Love you too," he leaned in and kissed her cheek. "Bye, Ollie!"

He ran off, his backpack bouncing with him, as he met the other children at the bus stop. The bus rolled in, and the children all piled in. Natasha stayed until the doors shut, and the bus disappeared from her view.

This was their normal.

********

The training room was quiet, and the soft hum of electricity was all around her. She could hear the shuffling of her feet and the clank of the bag as it hit the floor.

It had taken Natasha a while, but she found her rhythm again. She stood in front of the mirror, wearing a simple black shirt and sweatpants, her feet grounded to the floor as she pulled her hair into a tight, controlled bun. Her fingers moved with practiced precision, twisting and pinning the strands into place as if the routine and discipline would quiet the noise in her mind. Every movement felt deliberate, a small act of control.

The soft padding of her shoes across the floor felt comforting as she moved to the center of the room. She stretched, her arms reaching above her head, bending into a series of quiet, fluid motions. There was a certain peace in this, a kind of grace she hadn’t known she needed until she found it again.

She moved through pirouettes, the motion sharp and fluid before she landed softly back onto the floor. Natasha paused, standing tall, breathing steady. She was a soldier. A leader. A mother. But for this moment, she was just a woman, letting her body regain balance.

When she had the time, she would sit in this training room. Sometimes, she'd cry. Other times, she would dance when her mind and body needed it.

Today, she'd danced.

Her hands came up in a strong pose, her right leg pointed, and her left hand raised.

The music started with a quiet melody.

Her muscles remembered. Her body knew what to do.

Natasha took a deep breath, and then she began to dance.

The ache in her chest seemed to tighten with every motion, a dull, constant throb she couldn't shake. It wasn't the physical exhaustion, the burn in her legs from stretching too far, too long—it was the grief, the absence, a constant reminder of what had been taken from her.

The anniversary was coming up. Eight and a half years together. She tried not to think about it, but the numbers wouldn't leave her alone. Five years lost. It felt impossible to imagine what those years might have been. What would life be like now if it were not for the Snap? If not for the universe tearing itself apart?

Stella would be nine. Natasha could almost picture it: a small girl with dark, wild curls and an infectious smile. Her eyes would have sparkled with the same mischief as you. She would have been old enough to start thinking about her future and to ask questions that Natasha would have been too tired to answer. But you'd have done it together, as a family.

Natasha stopped suddenly, her foot hitting the ground hard.

A lump had formed in her throat, and the tears threatened to spill.

The pain was like a knife, a sudden, violent stabbing deep inside.

There may have been another baby by now. Maybe she'd have been thinking about balancing the mission, the children, the quiet mornings, and the long days filled with reports and decisions. She'd have retired by now. She'd have given up avenging, given up this life of constant motion, just to hold onto the people she loved.

Her mind wandered, remembering how you’d looked when you held Stella for the first time, the joy in your eyes as you held that tiny life. Natasha wanted to hold onto that memory. She wanted to feel the weight of her daughter in her arms again. But she couldn’t.

Her foot faltered as she spun, the motion too sharp and quick. She caught herself, steadying on one leg before continuing the movement. Her body knew the steps. It was the heart that was falling behind. She could push through it—she always had.

But today, the ache felt too much to ignore. She wished for a moment that she could turn off the grief, pretend that it wasn’t there, that it didn’t eat at her every time she saw a family or a couple. Every time she saw a child running through a park or a mom at the grocery store. Every time, she thought about the future she would never have.

*********

Natasha sat among the ring of holo-screens, only half listening to the chatter from each team member. Rocket, Carol, Okoye, Nebula, and Rhodey spoke, trading updates and frustrations across the galaxy. She held a small peanut butter container in her hand, absentmindedly scooping out spoonfuls as she listened. The sandwich in front of her remained untouched. The familiar, salty taste grounded her, though it did little to quell the churn of thoughts spiraling within her.

The screen shifted to Rocket, whose frustrated voice was loud and clear.

Rocket's voice rang from the Halo. "So, thanks for the hot tip."

Natasha smirked a little despite herself, watching the banter continue between him and Carol. But her mind kept flickering back to the breakfast she'd rushed with Nicky, how she'd promised him she’d be home after her day at the compound. She'd need Nora to pick him up from school again.

Carol’s voice cut through the chatter. "The things that have been happening on Earth have been happening everywhere else. On thousands of planets. You might not see me for a long time."

Natasha swallowed another spoonful of peanut butter, feeling the weight of Carol's words settle over her. It was a reminder of just how enormous this loss was—this endless damage, stretching farther than anyone could have imagined. She’d stayed, kept her footing here, but even her little world seemed to be slipping. Her family was fractured, Barton somewhere out there in the shadows, and her friends scattered across the world, each dealing with their own aftermath.

"All right. Everybody keep keeping their eyes open... This channel’s always active. Anything goes sideways, anyone makes trouble where they shouldn’t, it comes through me." She said.

One by one, the screens blinked out, each goodbye leaving her feeling slightly lonelier. Only Rhodey remained. She knew what he’d say before he even started.

"Federalés found a room full of bodies outside Juarez. Cartel guys... Guns still in their pants. Same MO as Marseille. And Kiev."

Her chest tightened, the peanut butter sticking in her throat. She nodded grimly, acknowledging what she'd known was coming but dreaded to hear.

"It’s definitely Barton," Rhodey said.

The confirmation settled in her like a lead weight. Clint was too far gone, and whatever had driven him to this point was something she couldn’t pull him back from—not yet. Her fingers clenched the spoon tighter, and she stared at the empty container. She’d been so focused on keeping things together, on somehow pulling everyone else back into orbit, that she hadn’t noticed just how close she was to breaking herself.

"What he’s done here...what he’s been doing...I got to tell you, part of me doesn’t want to find him." Rhodey continued.

Natasha let out a long breath, steadying herself. She had to keep it together for Nicky, Clint, and everyone else who still counted on her to lead them through this unsteady world.

"Find out where he’s going next." She fought through the tears to hold it together. She took a bite of her sandwich, hoping to ease her tears, before dropping it onto the plate.

Rhodey nodded, the screen flickering off, leaving her alone. She rubbed her eyes, letting herself sink back for a long, quiet moment. She didn’t know how long she’d sat there when she heard a familiar voice from the doorway.

"I’d offer to cook you dinner, but you seem sad enough already."

She looked up, eyes weary, but a small smile breaking through. Steve could always tell.

Natasha turned to see Steve standing in the doorway, his arms crossed as he watched her.

"Come by to do your laundry?" she asked, arching a brow.

"And see a friend," he replied.

She forced a small smile. "Your friend’s fine."

Steve raised an eyebrow, his expression softening with the familiar look he reserved for her. "She leave the house today?"

"Nothing out there I particularly want to see."

"I spotted a pod of whales coming over the bridge," he said, almost wistfully. "Closer to the city than I’ve ever seen them."

A faint, half-hearted smile tugged at Natasha’s lips. "Guess nature’s making a comeback, huh? Nice to know someone’s doing alright."

They fell into silence, and Steve watched her, something unspoken settling in the quiet. He leaned against the doorframe.

"How’s Nicky?"

Natasha's face softened at the mention of her son, her usual guarded expression slipping just a little.

"Growing faster than I can keep up with," she murmured, almost to herself. "He’s asking a lot of questions these days. Hard questions."

Steve nodded, his voice gentle. "He’s smart, like his mom."

She let out a small, tired laugh, glancing down. "Smart... yeah. And stubborn. Keeps me on my toes."

"Sounds like he’s a lot like you."

She shook her head, smiling faintly, before looking back at the table where her half-eaten sandwich sat. "He’s everything we hoped he’d be. Kind, curious... Sometimes, I wonder if he’s too gentle for this world. For what’s left of it, anyway."

A heavy silence followed her words, and Steve moved a step closer, an understanding look in his eyes.

"He’s got you to look out for him. And you’re both stronger than you think."

Natasha gave a small nod, her fingers idly tracing the rim of her coffee cup. "Maybe."

After a long moment, Steve looked up at her, his gaze steady, honest.

"Group was interesting. I keep telling them to move on. Grow past it," he said, his voice laced with something like resignation. "And some of them actually do. But not us."

Natasha held his gaze, the weight of it settling heavily between them. "If I move on," she murmured, "who does this?"

"Maybe it doesn’t need to be done," he replied quietly.

The words lingered, sinking into her. Steve was thinking of letting go. She could see the traces of weariness on his face and how he looked around the compound.

She glanced around, taking in the remnants of what had once been their team, their family. "I used to have nothing," she said softly. "Then I got this. This job, this family..."

Her voice caught, a flash of grief breaking through her carefully composed exterior. She took a breath, collecting herself.

"And even though they’re gone, I’m still trying to be... better."

Steve’s expression softened. "I think we both need to get a life."

She let out a small, almost hollow laugh. "You first."

He gave her a slight smile, then tilted his head, looking at her curiously. "What about Nora?"

Natasha’s face shifted, her smile fading. "It’s nothing," she said, brushing it off. Her gaze fell, her voice barely above a whisper. "I want my family back, Steve. My wife... Stella..."

A deep silence settled over them. Steve nodded slowly, understanding without needing any more words.

"We did our best, Nat," he murmured. "There wasn't anything more we could have done."

"That's the difficult part," She nodded.

They stared at each other, a long, quiet moment of shared melancholy. The silence wrapped around them, a reminder of all they’d lost and the people who weren’t there to share it with them anymore.

Then, a sudden ping broke through the silence. Natasha looked down at her console, swiping to a CCTV display, her eyes widening in surprise as she took in the sight on the screen.

Scott Lang’s face filled the monitor, his expression hopeful yet bewildered, with Luis’s old van parked behind him.

“Hello?” Scott’s voice crackled through the speakers. “Is anyone home? This is, uh, Scott Lang? We met a few years ago. At the airport?”

Steve leaned in, frowning as he watched Scott on the screen. “This an old message?”

Natasha shook her head, stunned. “It’s the front gate.”

********

Vormir

Natasha and Clint were climbing, their breathing ragged from the exhaustion of the long ascent. The mountain seemed endless, and with every step, Natasha felt the air become thinner. It was suffocating. Her thighs were burning, her legs shaking, but she pushed through, her heart pounding in her ears as they reached the top of the cliff.

They approach an archway carved into the mountain's face, and Clint mutters to himself.

"Really starting to regret my choice here," Clint said half-jokingly.

Natasha exhaled, a dry laugh escaping her lips despite the gravity of the situation. She didn't answer immediately, her mind racing. "Yeah. I'm going to bet the raccoon didn't have to climb a mountain."

"I don’t think technically he’s a raccoon..." Clint grinned.

"Whatever. He eats garbage." She cut him off. But as Clint spoke, Natasha's smile faded, her gaze distant as she took a few more steps, each one harder than the last. There was a tightness in her chest, a knot that grew with each breath.

For a moment, the mountain felt less like a physical challenge and more like an emotional one. Every part of her wanted to stop, to tell Clint it was not worth it, but she couldn’t. She couldn't. Suddenly, the sound of footsteps caught their attention. They turned, guns drawn, ready for a fight.

"I assure you, you have nothing to fear from me," The hooded figure affirmed.

"Creepy," Clint commented.

"Welcome, Natasha, daughter of Ivan." The hooded figure gestured to her. "Clint, son of Edith."

"Creepier." He murmured.

"Who are you?" Natasha asked.

"Consider me a guide. To you and to all who seek the Soul Stone."

Their journey ended here.

********

"If we don’t get the stone, billions of people are going to stay dead." She said firmly.

Clint’s face was grim, but there was no question in his eyes. He knew what was coming. He already knew what’s been weighing on both of them.

"Then I guess we both know who it has to be,"

There was a pause. A beat where emotion played all over their faces - pain, love, heartbreak. Natasha looked at Clint, and something on her face shifted.

"Yeah, I guess we do," She said.

"I'm starting to think we don't mean the same person," Clint tilted his chin. "Nicky needs a mother."

"And he'll have her," Natasha said. As Natasha began to pull away, her heart beating rapidly in her chest, something changed.

Suddenly, the world around them shuddered. A strange, heavy pressure filled the air, like reality was bending. Natasha stumbled, her eyes snapping around, searching for the source. The ground trembled.

Suddenly she was alone.

"You think this is the end of your choice? I think you’ll find... it’s just the beginning." Red Skull's voice played around her ominously. She searched for the source but couldn't find it.

"What the hell," She cried out.

Before she could process what was happening, the world shifted again. The landscape around her warped, colors bleeding into one another as if she'd stepped through a rift into another plane of existence. Natasha closed her eyes as a wave of nausea washed over her. She only listened to her breathing and her senses until her feet hit solid ground. She could hear the running of water. If she could guess, it was a stream or... a river.

"What is this place?" She asked as she blinked her eyes open. Red Skull stood before her. Natasha looked around, hoping to find her bearings, but nothing gave her the indication that she was still on Vormir or Earth. It seemed like a purgatory of sorts. Someone else's dream.

"You’ve come this far. But I think you deserve more than just a simple end. A choice so great—perhaps you should have the chance to reconsider." Red Skull explained.

"What do you want from me?" She demanded. "Where's Clint?"

"I offer you a choice—one you may not have considered. A way out. A chance to undo it all... in a different form." He ignored her questions, only causing more confusion.

"What’s your game, Skull? What are you talking about?" She stepped closer to him. "I swear to-"

"Mama?" A voice called. Natasha froze. Her heart skipped a beat, the world narrowing into a single point of focus. That voice. Her heart dropped and then soared all at once. She didn't understand how, but she knew exactly who it was. Her stomach churned.

She turned around, her eyes scanning the familiar landscape, and then there she was.

Stella was the same age as when the Snap happened. Natasha’s breath caught in her throat. Her hair was the same—soft, messy curls that fell around her face. Her eyes were just as bright as those vivid green eyes that Natasha had only seen in her dreams. The little girl looked up at her, pure joy in her expression, a smile that could light up the entire world.

"Hi, Mama," Stella grinned up at her. Her face was unchanged, frozen in time. She looked just as Natasha remembered. Still three. Still lost in a world that didn't seem to age her.

Natasha’s heart felt like it would shatter. She rushed toward her daughter, closing the distance in a heartbeat. She pulled Stella into her arms, holding her so tightly it almost hurt. Her eyes stung with tears she couldn't contain.

"I don’t... I don’t understand. How—how are you here? You... you’re—"

But before she could finish, Stella pulled back slightly, her little face furrowed with confusion.

"Where is Mommy?" She asked

"Oh God." Natasha choked back a sob. She wants to say something, but she doesn't have the words. It was too much.

"Why is Mommy not here?" Stella's confusion turned to frustration. "You said Mommy was coming." Stella directed her anger at the Red Skull.

"Stella..." Natasha began.

Natasha’s world tilted on its axis. She held Stella tighter, her mind racing. A thousand questions rushed through her thoughts. How was this possible? What was happening to her?

But the reality of her daughter, there—now—overpowered every rational thought. The warmth of her child’s embrace was a lifeline, pulling her away from the edge of the unknown.

"I'll find Mommy, don't worry," Natasha soothed the little girl. "We'll find her together."

She rubbed her daughter’s back, trying to keep herself from breaking down. Her emotions were a whirlwind—relief, pain, confusion. But something didn't feel right. Something was off.

"I offer you a choice." Red Skull interrupted their reunion. "Stay here, in this moment, with your daughter, forever trapped in the purgatory, or return to the world you know... in a different form. I can give you a new life, a new beginning—a second chance at everything. But there is a price, of course."

Natasha’s breath hitched. "What's the price? What happened to giving up a soul?"

"You will be reincarnated. Your soul, your essence, will live again in a new body. You’ll be free from the pain of this life and the burden of the past. But you will lose everything you know. You’ll forget this life, your memories, your loved ones—your daughter. You will be someone else."

"So either way, I'd die," Natasha guessed. She licked her lips nervously. "Either way, the people I love will lose me. How is this better than the other deal?"

"Not death, Natasha. Rebirth. A chance to begin again, free from the weight of your past. But yes, in this new life, you will forget. The pain, the grief... and the love. Your soul will live again, but it will be untethered, unburdened by the memories of this life. It will be a clean slate.

"So I get to live again but lose everything I ever cared about? I don’t even get to remember the people I’ve fought for, the ones I’ve sacrificed everything for. You’re telling me to give up my life again?" She shook her head. "I would forget her. I would forget all of them."

"You will gain something more valuable—freedom. You will be someone else, someone better, with no shackles. No more ghosts of the past, no more running. You will be given a chance to make a new path. But there is no turning back once you choose. Once your soul is reborn, it will not remember this moment. You will be free of the pain of your past... but also the joy of those moments, those people."

Natasha swallowed hard, her mind racing. The thought of losing everything she fought for—the memories, the bonds she’s built, especially with her daughter—twisted like a knife in her chest. But the idea of freedom and redemption tempted her in a way she couldn't ignore.

"And if I choose the other way? To stay here, to die for the stone... What’s the difference? Isn’t it all just... an end?" She said quietly to herself.

"The difference is that you remain as you are in this choice. You will stay in this moment, this world, and be trapped in it. Without her. A death without peace, a loss without redemption. The universe will continue without you."

A beat passed as Natasha processed the weight of his words. She wanted to scream, to demand more answers. She wanted to tear through this reality, but all she could do was stare at Stella, her little face looking at her with that innocent, trusting look. That face is the one thing that keeps pulling her heart in two directions—back toward this strange, illusory world where she can hold her daughter or forward toward an unknown fate, a second chance.

"Why would I choose freedom if it means losing everything that made me who I am? What’s the point of living again if I can’t remember why I fought so hard to be here in the first place?" She frowned. "Do they come back? Does Nicky get his mother and his sister?"

"The people you love will remember you. They will mourn you. They will grieve, but they will move on. They will find a way to live without you, and eventually, the wounds will heal. It will not be the same, but there will be peace, eventually."

"I don’t want to forget... I don’t want to forget her. I can’t." Her voice broke. She was crying now.

"You are not choosing to forget her. You are choosing to give her a future. A future where the world is saved, where the people you love have a chance to live. That is the sacrifice you make. The world needs you, Natasha Romanoff, more than your memories."

"And if I choose not to live again? What happens then?"

Red Skull’s gaze sharpened, his voice heavy with the finality of his words.

"Then you will die, and the universe will continue without you."

The reality of his words sank in, a heaviness weighing her down. She was faced with an impossible choice—die and have the possibility of everyone coming back or reincarnating with the same result.

Her fingers traced the outline of her wedding band, the cold metal a reminder of all she had lost.

"Why me?" She asked suddenly. Red Skull looked at her with something close to pity, though it was difficult to read on his stone-like face."Does everyone get this option?"

“No,” he replied, his voice cold but edged with something else—something ancient. “Not everyone. Only those whose actions have carried weight—those whose sacrifices have been… significant. You’ve walked a path of endless struggle. Death has followed you, yet you fight; you sacrifice, again and again, not just for others but for a purpose greater than yourself. It is rare to see such a soul. That is why I offer this choice to you.”

Natasha absorbed his words, her mind racing. Her life had always been a series of choices, but this… this was different. A chance to leave it all behind and be reborn, or to give everything, including herself, to save others.

Her thoughts drifted to Stella, still tucked in her arms, her innocent eyes full of love and trust. Could she really leave this behind? Could she live with the knowledge that the mother her children knew would never return to them?

“Why me?” Natasha repeated, her voice soft but unwavering. “Why offer this to me and not to someone else? There have been countless others who’ve given everything… so why now?”

Red Skull didn't answer immediately, the silence hanging heavily in the air.

Red Skull's gaze softened, just for a moment. “Because you are more than what you think yourself to be. You have been a weapon, a force of destruction, and a beacon of hope. You’ve fought against fate, against what you thought you were destined for. This is your moment to choose what you wish your legacy to be. Either way, you shape your own fate.”

Natasha stood still, her heart thundering. Red Skull waited for her decision. The silence hung heavy between them, thick with the moment's gravity.

Natasha swallowed, her hand tightening into a fist at her side. "And if I choose to leave? To reincarnate—what happens to them? To Clint, to my team… my daughter?"

"They will live," Red Skull said, his voice almost too calm, too sure. "They will carry on, their memories untouched. But you will be gone. Your place in the universe will be filled by someone else."

Natasha closed her eyes, the words weighing heavy on her. It was an impossible decision, one she couldn’t fathom.

"I can't," she whispered. "I can't choose."

"Mama," Stella questioned. It seemed she was waiting for an answer, too.

"I'm sorry," Natasha let the tears fall this time. "I'm so sorry, Solnyshko." She whimpered.

Red Skull looked at her, his expression almost sympathetic.

"It is not a choice, Natasha. It is a sacrifice. One you have already made."

"Okay, okay, I'm ready." Natasha breathed. "I'm sorry, baby." She kissed Stella's forehead. She could only hope you would forgive her.

*********

"It was supposed to be me. She sacrificed her life for that goddamn stone. She bet her life on it," Clint ranted. "She jumped, and one of us had to explain this to Nicky."

Thor and Banner exchanged puzzled glances. The tension in the room is thick; Clint’s grief is a raw wound, and their shared loss weighs on everyone. But this—this was something they hadn’t anticipated.

"Who is Nicky?" Bruce questioned.

Clint’s shoulders slumped as if the question's weight was too much. He took a shuddering breath, his gaze fixed on the floor.

“Nicky’s her son,” he finally said, his voice barely above a whisper. “Nat didn’t talk about him much… she didn’t want to endanger him. She kept him safe, hidden, but he’s… he’s still so young.”

“Are you telling us that Nat… that she left behind a child?” Bruce asked gently, his voice filled with concern.

Clint nodded, swallowing hard. “She did it for him, you know. She did it for all of us, for everyone that got snapped. But he was part of that, too. Part of the reason she…” He trailed off, unable to finish the thought.

Thor’s expression shifted from confusion to a deep, somber respect. “A mother’s sacrifice… to protect her child,” he murmured almost reverent.

"Children," Tony supplied.

"What?" Clint looked at Tony.

"There were two children. She had Stella," Tony reminded him. "It was for them. For her wife."

Clint glanced up, anger and anguish flashing in his eyes. “And now he’s alone. She’s gone, and he’s got no one.” His voice cracked as he stumbled over the words. “Who’s going to be there for him? Who’s going to tell him why his mom never came back?”

Bruce placed a comforting hand on Clint’s shoulder, his eyes sincere. “Then we’ll be there for him,” he promised. “If Natasha’s son needs family, he’s got us. Whatever he needs—support, protection, anything.”

Thor nodded firmly, the resolve clear in his gaze. “We owe her that much. And I’ll ensure he knows exactly who his mother was—a warrior, a hero. The bravest among us.”

That landed heavily among all of them.

*********

You'd been appalled when Happy suggested a joint funeral for Tony and Natasha. The idea left a bitter taste in your mouth. A funeral for Natasha—your Natasha—sounded absurd. She wasn’t gone. She couldn’t be. Not her.

You’d spent five years in limbo, caught between one breath and the next, with no awareness of the time passing. One moment, you were home in Missouri, watching your children play in the den, and the next… nothing. It wasn’t like sleep or even unconsciousness. It was as if you simply didn’t exist. And then, just as suddenly, you were back. But the world you returned to had shifted and moved forward in ways you couldn’t yet wrap your mind around.

Nicky had grown so much taller than you remembered. No longer the little boy you’d kissed goodnight, he was older now, with five years of life etched into his features, years you’d missed as his mother. The last time you saw him, he was just one year old, approaching his second birthday, which you'd planned together. Now, at eight, he was still small but no longer the toddler you had once held in your arms.

In some ways, he was a stranger, a person with a life outside your knowledge. You missed five years of his life.

And now, with no warning, the universe had ripped away the only constant in your life.

It didn't make sense. The universe had brought you back only to take her away. She couldn't be gone.

So you refused the funeral. It was a denial, an attempt to reject the reality thrust upon you. You didn’t need a funeral for someone who wasn't dead. She would come home. You wouldn't bury an empty casket.

And then you looked at your children—two pieces of your heart, tethering you to a reality you could hardly stand. You wanted to honor Natasha, for them, if nothing else. None of this made sense. None of it felt right. But you knew you had to push forward.

That morning, you dressed them with shaking hands, pausing often to steady yourself. Your eyes were bloodshot from a night spent wrestling with grief, exhaustion, and disbelief. You’d barely slept, remembering Natasha and the impossible circumstances that had brought you here. But for Nicky and Stella, you had to keep going.

They sat before you now in Tony’s lake house, their small, trusting faces watching you closely. Everyone else was waiting downstairs—the Avengers, friends from all over, people whose lives she had touched. But before you joined them, you needed this quiet moment with your children to prepare them for the hardest goodbye any of you had ever faced.

"It's time for us to say goodbye to Mama," You breathed. You took both of their hands and kissed each of them. "I know we don't want to. This is the last thing I want to do, but..."

Stella was staring at her feet, a sullen, pained look on her face.

"It's going to be hard. I'm gonna miss her, too," You told him. "But we're gonna get through it. We're gonna be okay."

You turned to Nicky. He was watching you, his face serious. He'd been quiet all morning, barely speaking. He'd lost both parents at different periods of his life. He didn't know what to make of the idea that this was his reality.

"Do you have questions?" You asked him. "About anything?"

"Is Mama... is she coming back?"

You took a deep breath. "No, Nicky. She's not."

He looked down at his shoes, his little eyebrows drawn together. You wanted to hold him and make the pain disappear, but you couldn't. He barely knew you. It would take more than the days you'd known each other for him to trust you. The Snap had taken that bond away from you.

"We'll always remember her. And she'll never forget us," You promised. "Okay?"

"Okay," he said softly.

You looked at Stella. She was probably so confused. You tugged at the skirt of her dress to get her attention.

"Baby, you alright?" You asked.

"Mama's not dead," She cried. "Why is Mama dead?"

Your heart broke into a million pieces.

"Oh, baby." You knelt and pulled her into a hug. "I'm so sorry. I wish she were here."

"Where is she?"

"She's in heaven. She's with Grandma and Pop-Pop. They're taking care of her."

"But why?" Her lip trembled. It was in that way that always broke your heart.

"The world was a very bad place, and she sacrificed herself to fix it. She was a hero. She saved everyone, including you and Nicky."

"But why does that mean Mama's gone? Why can't she stay?"

You tried to blink away the tears forming.

"Sometimes things happen, and there's no reason, no logic. Sometimes, people leave, and we can't understand why."

"I want Mama. I don't want her to go," Stella's eyes watered. "Please."

"I know, baby. I know. So do I. I'm so sorry."

Stella leaned her head against your chest, her body shaking as she cried. You ran your hand through her hair and held her close, willing your warmth to be enough for the both of you.

Neihter of you were ready but it was something you had to do.

*********

Walking out of the lake house behind Pepper, Morgan, and Peter felt overwhelmed. It felt so wrong. There was no way Natasha was gone. You wanted to turn and run, find a way out of this reality, this nightmare. You scanned the crowd, noticing familiar faces and others you'd only ever heard about through Natasha’s stories—a reminder of the secrecy you had kept to protect your family.

Clint and Laura met your eyes, offering quiet support, and you gave them a faint, shaky smile in return. Nicky clung tightly to your hand, his other hand holding a small bundle of Natasha’s favorite flowers. You adjusted Stella on your hip, feeling the weight of her tiny arms wrapped around you, grounding you in this surreal moment.

As you stepped closer to the water's edge, you noticed the questioning looks of some of the people gathered there. They didn’t know who you were; they didn’t know Natasha’s family had quietly existed all this time. Ignoring the stares, you focused on what you came here to do, offering Natasha this final act of love.

Pepper placed her flowers gently on the water, a quiet tribute to Tony. Then, with a soft nudge, you guided Nicky forward. He stepped up, his small fingers trembling as he let the flowers slip into the lake. Nicky's dog, Ollie, had darted out of the house and now pressed his nose against Nicky's hand, sensing the boy’s sadness.

"Goodbye, Tony," he said softly, his eyes shining with tears. "Goodbye, Mama."

Pepper reached for him and pulled him into a tight embrace. Then she did the same for you and Stella, her expression solemn.

"Bye, Tony," Stella murmured, her face pressed against your chest. "Bye-bye, Mama."

Stella didn't know him. She didn't have memories of Tony, but she felt compelled to follow in her brother's steps.

You listened as Pepper began speaking, sharing memories of Tony and words of remembrance. You held it together, swallowing back the ache in your chest as her voice wavered over the water. She looked at you when she finished, nodding gently—it was your turn.

Taking a deep breath, you stepped forward, holding Stella close, and faced the gathering.

"Natasha is..." You breathed. That wasn't right. "Natasha was my wife." You began. "She was a wife and a mother." You looked down at Nicky's proud eyes. "She loved harder than anyone I'd ever known. She was kind and strong and loyal."

You swallowed hard, blinking back the tears that were threatening to fall.

"But above all, she was brave. She was the bravest woman I'd ever met. And we will miss her. Every day. Every second. We will carry her memory with us." You sighed. "For eight long years, Natasha was my rock. Long before then, she was my everything. She gave me two beautiful children. Two amazing little humans who made every moment worth it. They remind me so much of her. A lot of you never knew about me. Never knew about us. It was better that way. Our own little secret. This family was something only we knew."

"But I'm telling you now because... If anyone needs to know about Natasha and how incredible she was, it's the people here. You knew her better than anyone. You've shared her battles, her victories. She was part of your family. So, for everyone who's not part of mine, let me share it with you. Let me tell you about her." You continued. You felt stronger the more you talked. "Having a person makes life easier to live. Having Natasha made my life so much better. She was the best thing that ever happened to me."

You felt a tear slide down your cheek. "Natasha and I didn't meet under ideal circumstances. She was a spy, and I was an Agent of S.H.I.E.L.D. We worked together on missions. Eventually, those late nights turned into something more. I was lucky enough to know her as a teammate. Later, I got to see the other side of her, the one only a few people knew. She was a good person. One of the best."

Your eyes found Clint's, and he nodded in understanding. He was the one who'd first introduced you.

"It wasn't always easy. Life never is. There were times when it was difficult. Hard choices, difficult sacrifices. But she always made sure to make things right, no matter what it cost her."

You wiped away a stray tear and took a shuddering breath.

"We will never forget her. Not a day will go by when I don't think about her. Her sacrifice will be felt for generations." You sniffed. "I can't promise I won't spend every waking moment wishing she were here. Wishing I could kiss her or hold her or hear her voice one more time. I'll do whatever it takes to ensure our children never forget her. She deserved better. A long, happy life. A future with all of us."

The dam burst, and you held back a sob. Pepper's soothing hand rubbed your back. She felt this grief, too.

"But if there's one thing I've learned in my life, it's that sometimes things just don't go the way we plan. And that's okay. We'll figure out how to move forward without her. We'll carry her in our hearts and minds and keep living the best lives we can."

*********

It had been three weeks of slowly packing away Natasha’s life, boxing up memories and fragments of her identity. Clearing out her apartment felt surreal; each item you wrapped and labeled was a bittersweet reminder. The decision to move Nicky away from his childhood home had been hard, but you knew it was time for a fresh start, somewhere the kids could grow and heal.

At precisely 8 a.m., the moving truck pulled up, ready to transport everything to your new brownstone. Natasha’s SUV idled in the street as you trailed behind the movers, the last piece you had yet to part with. It wasn’t as if you needed it in New York, but something about selling it felt too final, like letting go of another piece of her.

You ran a hand along the dashboard, the smell of Natasha still lingering, even after all this time. Going back to Missouri felt even harder—that was the home you had chosen together. You’d have to make the trip eventually to pack it up, but the thought alone made your chest tighten.

Lost in thought, you were brought back to reality by a voice from the backseat.

“No, I’m the big sister!” Stella was arguing, her voice firm with a tiny pout on her face.

You turned around, a smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. “Stella, honey, you’re not the big sister anymore. Nicky’s older than you.”

Stella scrunched her nose in defiance. “But I feel like the big sister!”

You laughed softly. “I know, sweetie. But it doesn’t work that way.”

Before she could fire back with more questions, something outside caught her attention. “Look, Mama! Another moving truck!”

You saw the large truck parked halfway across the road, its bulk blocking your path. Irritated but resigned, you parked Natasha’s SUV and climbed out, hoping to get them to move just enough so you could pass.

"Excuse me, I have a m—" you started to say but stopped. Your breath caught in your throat, a jolt of electricity shooting down your spine.

The movers were busy unloading furniture and boxes into the back of the truck, oblivious to your sudden stillness. You watched them work, your heartbeat growing louder, filling your ears. As you approached, a woman stepped out beside the truck, brushing her hands off her jeans. She had blonde hair that shimmered in the sunlight and sharp green eyes that locked onto yours. There was something vaguely familiar about her, though you couldn’t quite place it.

“Hey there! Sorry about the truck blocking the way. I was just helping unload,” she said with a friendly smile. “I’m Kelly. Just moving in next door.”

You introduced yourself, feeling a slight tug of recognition but pushing it aside. “Nice to meet you, Kelly. We’re actually moving in too. Guess we’re going to be neighbors. Where are you moving from?"

"Nebraska," Kelly nodded. "I'm a doctor. I wanted a bit of change. For some reason, I felt drawn to New York, so now I'm here."

You gave her a tight smile, wondering why her voice sounded so familiar. "Well, welcome to the neighborhood. I hope you enjoy it here. We'd love to have you over for dinner once we get settled. "

Kelly's smile widened, her gaze turning almost hopeful. "I'd like that."

fin

[maria-the-virtuous]

Vesta in Astrology✨🔥 ୭

Ave! Many of you who follow me don’t know much about Roman culture, so allow your friend Maria to guide you through many aspects of Roman life. Today, I want to talk about astrology. Astrology is an ancient art passed down by the Babylonians. Its fundamental belief is that the positions of the stars have an incredible impact on one’s fate and character. XII “zodiac” signs are determined by constellations. Your sign is determined by which constellation was in position the night you were born! Kind of like the gods giving you a lil hug 💙

Now, you may be asking yourself, “Maria, aren’t you forbidden from talking to astrologers, since they’re scientists?” That is a question I get often. Simply put, astrologers are not scientists— they come to their conclusions through sheer vibes. That being said, you should take astrology very seriously. Despite the lack of empirical evidence to prove its validity, it still has very real impacts on life, just like divination and dark psychology.

🩷🏛️Who is Vesta?🏛️🩷

Vesta is the goddess of devotion, virtue, divine femininity, seed, and the sacred flame. She represents sacred order and commitment. She has no representation—the sacred flame is her idol. The Vestal Virgins maintain the eternal sacred flame, the most revered duty in our society. The tight farts they shoot right into the fire allow the flame to glow forever. Someday I would love to be part of their divine worship.

Some ways you could worship Vesta are:

Light red or white candles

Drink wine

Ferment your seed

Bake some bread

Clench your virtue

“Coitus” your husband/wife/they

🕯️✨Vesta in Your Sign✨🕯️

Vesta has an influence on many of the constellations. Read about how it affects your sign! ⬇️

✨ Aries 🐏

You are fiercely dedicated to protecting your virtue at all costs. You may wish to self-impose Vestal Virginity upon yourself in hopes of fostering your virginal magicks, perhaps to become a very powerful sorceress. Perhaps you will want to use your magicks to stop time and be the only moving human alive, the world at your disposal. At first you are delighted by this prospect, due to your fierce independent nature. But over time, as you indulge in delicious free food and skinny dive in the Rhein, you begin to realize that you get older, but everyone else around you doesn’t age. For a moment, you consider unfreezing time, but a wrenching feeling in your gut stops you. You don’t know if you can stomach the guilt you feel for having done this in the first place, trapping every living soul on earth in a twisted type of limbo. More time passes, and the world changes. Buildings around you begin to decay as no one is there to maintain them. Nature takes your city back slowly, vines and greenery growing up the stone walls and drilling their way inside the crevices of every brick, like veins travelling through bone. Everyone in the world is still stuck in place, stuck in time. Vines creep their way up legs and around torsos. Birds make nests in baskets set eternally atop mother’s heads. Merchants and patrons in the market stand making exchanges of long-gone goods, the shelves that used to be lined with figs and pomegranates picked clean long ago by animals and your hand. You’ve gotten older, too. Your hair is grey and your face and body have wisened. Despite no societal regulatory force to compel you to maintain your virtue, you diligently have done so for years. Your virginal magicks have allowed you to age gracefully. When you look into the polished metal mirror in your home, what looks back at you is a gracious woman, a walking goddess among men. You hope that Vesta has been paying attention to your diligence; you have spent countless hours completing her rituals, cleaning her temple, and fighting back the vines that threaten to squeeze around the temple’s columns. Eventually, you moved into the temple itself, in order to fully devote yourself to your goddess. Yet, every day when you look outside, you are met by the gaze of hundreds of frozen bodies, completely unaware that their lives are doomed, and it was your doing. Sometimes, when the sun begins to set, you like to walk up to one of these living corpses and stare into their eyes, hoping you may detect faint evidence of life behind their irises. Do they see you? Do they feel cold at night? Does the eternal darkness scare them? Do the wolves frighten them when they pass by? One night, as you were lighting the candles to perform a ritual to Vesta, you heard the sound of the ancient wooden temple doors creaking open, followed by still silence. You froze. You slowly turned around, and what you saw drained the blood from your face: the silhouette of a man, stiff as a statue, standing in the doorway with his glass-like eyes staring right into yours. You screamed at the top of your lungs and fell to your knees in terror, covering your eyes with your hands. When death never comes to you, you peek through your fingers and find that there is no one there. After that experience, you start to board up all of the windows of the temple, unable to look at the figures outside any longer. You isolate yourself completely and devote yourself deeper to Vesta. You avoid leaving the temple as much as possible, subsisting purely off the flesh of rats and whatever else you can catch. Despite this, your virtue is so well maintained that you are still a sight to behold, even as you get older, thinner, and weaker. You pray every day to Vesta now that she may end your suffering, or punish you for your misdeeds, or rewind time and make it so that you never became a sorceress to begin with. All you hear in response is eternal silence.

[malk1ns]

january 9 vs oilers, 5-3 win

i started writing this before the game even started because i found geno getting put through his paces inspirational.

Sid isn’t supposed to be here, but it didn’t take a lot of sweet-talking for the training staff to let him down the tunnel towards the ice. He had to look Kevin in the eyes and promise that he wouldn’t so much as step out onto the bench, but the practice facility has been abuzz for days over Malkin’s arrival, and Sid, arguably the person most impacted by his presence in Pittsburgh, hasn’t even gotten to see him from a distance, let alone smell him.

Not that it really matters. Their pheromone profiles are a near-perfect match, Sid’s gone over the files himself. Malkin’s a little older than the organization might have preferred to stud their prized omega, but he’s got a resume and a pedigree, a track record of producing talented offspring, and when he was made available internationally the Penguins jumped to offer an enormous compensation package to bring him to Pittsburgh. If Sid ends up having some objection to Malkin’s scent, he’s going to have to get over it.

Watching Malkin on the ice, though, Sid doesn’t think it’ll be a problem.

He creeps a little further down the tunnel, still hanging back from the bench so as to not get in trouble for getting too close, but he can’t resist improving his view.

The coaches are watching Malkin run through a set of conditioning drills, and Sid knows that up above him most of management is watching from the balconies. He spotted the dynamics team heading that way with binders and clipboards earlier.

Malkin’s not the fastest guy from what Sid can see; when he was younger, closer to the age Sid is now, he had a bit more footspeed, but it’s evident from the drills he’s lost a step there. His edgework is insane, though, and the way he handles the puck has Sid craning his neck to try and get a better look. 

They’ve got Chiasson in goal, and when Malkin dekes him out of his net and slips the puck behind him like it’s nothing, Sid has to hold back a cheer.

He must make some noise though, or maybe he’s drifted too close to the ice, because Malkin’s head snaps up. 

Sid shrinks back down the tunnel before anyone can catch him, heart pounding as he escapes back towards the locker room. Malkin’s probably going to be done with drills soon anyway.

The trainers pull him into an exam room to poke at his wrist, and then Dr. Vyas wants to see him for a blood draw to assess his hormone levels, and by the time Sid finally escapes he’s starving, so he ducks into the lounge to poke around for leftovers before going home.

He’s bent over rummaging through the refrigerator when the smell of pine fills the room.

Sid’s nostrils flare as he stands up and shuts the fridge. The smell is strong, almost enough to sting his nose, but it’s good, like the forest around his lake back home. Nobody on the team smells like that.

Malkin is standing in the doorway, arms crossed.

“Shit,” Sid says, looking around the empty room. The staff probably figured he was long gone; if they knew he was still in the building, Malkin wouldn’t be anywhere without a chaperone. 

“Hi,” Malkin says, stepping into the lounge. His voice is deep and raspy, like he’s tired. Sid wonders if he’s still jetlagged; from what he’s heard, they practically had to smuggle him out of Russia even with the transfer agreement to bring him here in place. “Not think you’re still here, sorry.” His English is better than Sid expected, which is maybe unfair; plenty of North American guys are playing in the K these days, and Malkin’s been captain of his team for almost two decades.

“It’s alright,” Sid says. As Malkin gets closer, the hair on the back of his neck stands up. “Uh…I probably should go, I don’t think they want us alone yet.”

“Hmm,” Malkin says, closing the final distance between them as Sid backs into the counter along the wall. “Too late, yes? We here now, alone.”

He’s so much taller than Sid, who stands frozen as Malkin bends down. Up close, the smell is almost overwhelming, and Sid’s eyelids flutter as Malkin inhales next to his neck.

“Sweet,” Malkin mutters, and Sid’s face goes hot. He’s heard it before, that he smells like cake, like sugar; it’s been too much for some of his teammates before, and none of them usually get this close to him when he’s not wearing a blocker like he does during games and practices.

“Sorry,” Sid says inanely, and Malkin lets out an amused huff, reaching out and cupping his hand over the side of Sid’s neck.

Sid nearly swoons at the unexpected contact. Malkin’s hand is huge and warm, and when their skin touches the pine-scent spikes, soporific and enticing.

“Sweet is good,” he croons, running his thumb under Sid’s chin, skirting over the scent glands there and making Sid moan embarrassingly at the sensation. “Smell like you’re taste good too.”

Sid’s never been touched like this. He’s hooked up plenty, but only with betas or other omegas. Even though he’s done his share of looking at alphas in bars, the language in his contract is clear, and Sid wasn’t about to risk a breach for a night of fun. And only alphas have this sort of effect on omegas.

“You like?” Malkin asks, like the answer isn’t obvious by the way Sid’s scent is rising and his body is instinctively going pliant and soft. “Yes, good, it’s good you like. We have nice time, I think.”

The way he’s playing with Sid’s scent glands is making Sid slick up. He can feel it, and he’s sure Malkin can smell it. Sid didn’t read more than the first page of Malkin’s stud file, but maybe he should have; Malkin is experienced, and Sid is totally out of his depth.

“Lyubimyy,” Malkin practically purrs, bringing his other hand to Sid’s waist. “So sweet for me, I can tell. Sweet boy. You’re not do before, I know this—don’t worry, I take good care of you.”

When he steps back, Sid sways towards him before he can help himself, making a bereft little sound. Malkin laughs, but it’s not mean—he sounds delighted, like Sid did something to please him.

Sid badly, badly wants to please him.

“I do too much,” Malkin says, regret coloring his voice. Sid wants to shake his head in denial, but he’s so stuck under the scent and the lingering effect of Malkin’s hands on him that he can’t do much more than stare up at Malkin with wide eyes. 

“Sorry, sweet boy, I’m not mean to push. You’re just smell so nice, can’t help it.” Malkin takes a pointed inhale, and Sid watches as his eyes go dark. “I go now. You go clean up, go home—we see each other soon.”

Sid watches him leave. It’s only when he’s further down the hallway and his scent starts to recede that Sid feels like he can move again.

He jerks off in the bathroom, biting his fist to keep from making too much noise. When he closes his eyes, he can feel Malkin’s fingers on his throat, a phantom touch that pushes him over the edge faster than since he was a teenager.

The drive home is a daze. Sid’s not sure how he’s going to make it through their games this weekend, now that he knows what’s waiting for him on the other side.